Elmwood, Illinois. 1948. June Le Masters is always in the middle of everything! 11 years old and in the middle of 11 kids, living in the middle of Illinois, in the middle of the United States. Even her name June, is the middle month of the year. Everything about her screams, “I am the middle kid.”

Except June, she never screams. She doesn’t speak up enough. She always lets others go first, and always says, “I’m sorry.” She says sorry for things that aren’t even her fault. She just wants everything to be nice and happy. She tries to be a good girl but because of her brother Bob, she is now in the middle of all his trouble with the FBI.

Bob struggles with everything. The way he stutters, the way he plays with others, the way he behaves at home. He is not like the other kids.

Now, girls aren’t supposed to tattle or speak up. Those are the rules.

This is especially hard when you have a brother who has a hard time in school. She has to watch out for Bob, and because of that, June must learn to speak up. Because of that, June needs to break the rules.

“Girls aren’t supposed to tattle!” That’s the rules! 

I am not sure who made the rules, but I am in the sixth grade and, for as long as I can remember, teachers and grown-ups remind me not to be a tattletale.

I remember, way back when I was a second grader, Mrs. Daly had a cat tail that she hung up on the blackboard. It was from a costume, long and black, and stuffed with cotton. It stuck out like it was from a scaredy cat and pointed straight into the sky.

She had a safety pin on it and she stuck it next to the American Flag. Every day, when we would say the Pledge of Allegiance, I would see it hanging there and be reminded not to tattle.

If a kid tattled…well, Mrs. Daly made you wear that tail…tattletale. She would pin the long black cat tail to your dress, right on your back side and make you wear it on the playground for the entire recess.

I never remember a boy wearing it. Only the girls. 

One time, Eddie was making fun of my brother Bob and the way he stutters. I told the teacher, and she said, “June, you are gonna wear the “tattle-tail.” All the kids laughed, pointed, and stayed away from me. 

I think she wanted to make me feel bad about speaking up. I think she wanted to teach me a lesson, but all I learned that day was that I couldn’t trust Mrs. Daly.

I think that’s a horrible lesson to teach anyone. To teach a girl that when something bad happens, that she can’t tell, or she will be punished. To teach a girl that if she speaks up, she will be embarrassed.

This is especially hard when you have a brother who has a hard time in school. I have to watch out for Bob, and, because of that, I must speak up.