Stand up for girls’ rights and make a difference: Julie’s story
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Taking charge in
changing times
As The Big Break begins, Julie is struggling with her parents’ divorce, which means she must move to a new house, start over at a new school, and find new friends. Yet Julie’s filled with hope when she thinks there’s the chance to play basketball on the school team—until she learns it’s just for boys. Only then does Julie realize she has the power to bring about change.
The world spun—first upside down, then right-side up again—as Julie Albright and her best friend, Ivy Ling, turned cartwheels around the backyard.
“Watch me do a backflip!” called Ivy.
She leaned back, stretching her neck like a tree bending in the wind. Soon her shiny black ponytail bounced upside down as she twirled through the air, landing perfectly on two feet.
“I always fall flat on my face!” said Julie. “I’ll never be as good as you, no matter how hard I practice.” She sighed. “I’m sure going to miss doing gymnastics with you after school every day.”
“I’m going to miss playing basketball in your driveway,” said Ivy, “even though you always beat me.”
Julie stuck out her lower lip and made an exaggerated sad face. Both girls fell down laughing. Then they stretched out on the grass, folding their hands behind their heads, and gazed dreamily at the clear blue sky, a perfect September day.
“Hey, look,” said Julie, pointing to an airplane high up in the sky. “Maybe that’s my dad! Hi, Dad!” The two girls whooped and yelled and waved.
Mr. Albright was a pilot. Julie always waved at every airplane she saw, imagining it might be her dad flying to some exotic, far-off country.
“What are you going to miss most?” Julie asked.
“Walking to school together and sitting behind you in class,” said Ivy.
“Who am I going to be lunch buddies with?” said Julie. “You’re the only friend in the world who would trade me your Twinkie for a pickle!”
“Julie!” Mom called from the back porch as she took down some hanging geraniums. “Time to get a move on. The van will be here in half an hour.”
“I guess I had better get going,” said Ivy.
“Not yet!” said Julie. “Come up to my room with me while I make sure I’m all packed.”
Upstairs, Julie scooped up Nutmeg, her pet rabbit, from her favorite spot in the laundry basket and plopped down cross-legged next to Ivy on her bed. Ivy stroked Nutmeg’s velvet-brown fur, while Julie scratched her pet behind her floppy lop ears. “I’m sure gonna miss you, girl,” said Julie, kissing Nutmeg on her wiggly nose and nuzzling her whiskers. “But Ivy’s going to take extra-special good care of you whenever Dad’s gone.”
Julie took a long last look around her room. Ghosts of posters that had once decorated the walls formed an empty gallery around the room, showing off the flowered wallpaper. Craters in the blue shag rug made a strange moonscape, a map of where Julie’s desk and dresser had once been. Boxes were piled everywhere. The room was middle-of-the-night quiet.
“I still can’t believe you’re moving,” said Ivy, flashing her dark eyes at Julie.
“It’s only a few miles away, across town,” said Julie. “It’s not like I’m moving to Mars.”
“I won’t be able to blink lights at you from across the street anymore to say good night,” said Ivy.
“But we can call each other,” Julie pointed out. “And you’ll still see me on the weekends when I come visit my dad.” There was that lump again. She felt it every time she thought of being without Dad. She thought she’d gotten used to the idea of her parents being divorced, but now that she wouldn’t be living with Dad anymore, suddenly it wasn’t just an idea. It was real.
“Here,” said Julie. “I made us friendship bracelets. We can both wear them and think of each other.” She handed a colorful knotted bracelet to Ivy.
“Neat!” said Ivy. “Here, tie it on my wrist.”
Julie’s big sister, Tracy, poked her head into Julie’s room. “Mom says to start bringing our stuff down. Set it in the front room.”
“Not yet!” Julie protested. “Just a few more minutes.” It was bad enough they were making her move. Now they were taking away her last moments with her best friend, too.
“Mom says now,” said Tracy, sounding annoyed.
Julie got up and tried lifting a too-heavy box, then set it back down and began dragging a garbage bag across the floor instead. “Now I know why they call it Labor Day,” she grumbled.
“I guess I better go, for real this time,” said Ivy. Julie nodded. The two friends hooked pinkies in a secret handshake they’d had since kindergarten. Neither girl wanted to be the one to let go first.
***
A few hours later, Julie, Tracy, and Mom sat on the floor of their new apartment, holding cardboard cartons of Chinese takeout. Mom had pushed a few moving boxes together to serve as a table, and their dinner was spread out on top of the boxes.
“It’s so great here,” said Tracy. She paused to slurp some noodles off her chopsticks. “You should see all the groovy shops I passed along Haight Street when I went to get the takeout!”
Julie admired the way her big sister was always so confident about everything. She wished she could be certain she’d like it here.
“My favorite part is that we live above my shop now,” said Mom. “Think of it! To go to work, I just have to run downstairs!”
A few months ago, Mom had opened a shop on the corner of Redbud and Frederick. The shop was called Gladrags, and it was full of handmade stuff, such as purses made of worn-out blue jeans. Mom had told Julie the name was from the Rod Stewart song that went “the handbags and the gladrags . . .” The name was Tracy’s idea. She had heard the song on the radio.
“How about you, Julie?” asked Mom. “What do you think you’re going to like best about living here?”
Julie glanced around the room. Tiny rainbows of color danced across the empty walls, flashing from the prism Mom had hung in the front window.
“Well, um, I especially like the dining table,” Julie decided, pointing to the boxes they were eating on. Mom and Tracy laughed.
“The real dining table isn’t put back together yet,” said Mom. “I couldn’t find the screwdriver.”
The doorbell rang, and Tracy ran to answer it. “Mom, it’s some guy,” she announced.
Julie looked up from her chicken chow mein. Standing in the doorway was a curious-looking man. He had a bushy red beard and wiry red hair, and he wore a patched green army jacket and a baseball cap.
“Hank!” said Mom, standing up. “C’mon in. Girls, this is Hank, a friend from the neighborhood. He was my first customer the day I opened the shop!”
“Far out,” said Tracy.
“Hank, these are my girls, Tracy and Julie.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you from your mom,” said Hank. “Here.” He held out a plate covered with foil. “I brought some of my famous zucchini bread to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“Yum!” said Julie, peering under the aluminum foil.
“Thanks,” said Mom, taking the plate of zucchini bread. “Can’t wait to taste it. Can you stay for some tea?”
“No, I’m on my way to a big meeting about the Vet Center. But thank you.” He tipped his cap at Julie and Tracy, and left.
“That was so nice of him,” said Tracy.
Mom nodded. “Hank’s a good egg.” She set the plate on the kitchen counter. “Now, where were we?”
“I’ll help you put together the dining table if you’ll help me fix up my room,” said Julie. “I need curtains. And a shade for my lamp.”
“We can make curtains,” said Mom. “And decorate a lampshade. Hey, how would you like one of those fuzzy rugs in the shape of a foot?”
“Okay,” said Julie, helping Mom clear away the leftovers.
“I volunteer to wash the dishes tonight!” said Tracy.
“There aren’t any dishes,” said Julie. “We ate out of the boxes.”
“Exactly!” Tracy grinned. She pretended to practice tennis against the living-room wall with an imaginary racket—first her forehand, then her backhand. “I just can’t wait for school. I’m going out for the tennis team. Maybe debate, too. But definitely tennis,” Tracy chattered on. “Someday I want to go to France. To the French Open.”
“What’s that?” Julie asked.
“It’s only a world-famous tennis match. Chrissie Evert won the Grand Slam there for the last two years in a row!”
“My sister’s a tennis freak,” Julie announced.
Tracy pretended to lob the ball right at her sister. “Fifteen–love!” said Tracy.
“I don’t see how I’m going to start a new school this week,” Julie said when Mom came to tuck her in. “I don’t even know where a pencil is, or my binder or anything. What if I left some of the stuff I need at Dad’s? What if I get lost trying to find my classroom? What if nobody talks to me and I can’t find a friend?”
“Honey, I know this is all new, and it’s not going to be easy at first,” Mom said, sitting down beside Julie on the bed. “But I’ll take you the first day, and we’ll meet your teacher and make sure you know your way around. And how could the other kids not like you?” Mom reached to hug her.
Julie squirmed away. “You don’t understand.”
“Look, I know starting over in a new place is scary. It’s scary for me, too, starting a new business. But sometimes you just have to trust in yourself and take a chance.” Mom kissed Julie on the top of her head and turned out the light.
Rising to the
challenge
In Julie Takes a Stand, she gets the chance to celebrate the Bicentennial on a wagon train, sending her on a journey of self-discovery. Back in school, Julie runs for student body president in hopes of improving the detention system. But is her bold idea for change enough to turn the vote in her direction?
Julie lifted her long calico dress to lace up her shoes. Then she smoothed her apron and tied the strings of her sunbonnet. “How do I look?”
“Like a real pioneer,” said Mom, taking straight pins from between her lips. “I have to finish off this hem. Dad’ll be here to pick you girls up first thing in the morning.”
As Mom pinned up the hem of the pioneer dress, Julie hugged herself with excitement. Tomorrow Dad was taking Tracy and her to the airport. They were flying east to Pittsburgh, where Julie and Tracy would join their Aunt Catherine, Uncle Buddy, and cousins Jimmy and April to celebrate the Fourth of July.
But this was not just any July Fourth celebration, Julie reminded herself. It was 1976, the Bicentennial, and Julie and her sister were going to be part of a very special event. An old-fashioned pioneer-style wagon train, with wagons from all fifty states, was crossing the country in honor of America’s two-hundredth birthday. Except unlike in the pioneer days, this wagon train was starting on the West Coast and heading east, all the way to Pennsylvania. “It’s like history in reverse,” Dad had put it. In Pittsburgh, Julie and Tracy would join their cousins on a horse-drawn wagon for the last three weeks of the journey.
Julie shivered with anticipation. An airplane . . . and a covered wagon! She would be like Laura Ingalls Wilder, who had crossed the prairie with her family in the Little House books. Julie could hardly wait.
Tracy stopped brushing her hair and held up the green and white cotton dress Mom had made for her. “Did pioneers really wear these long dresses and ugly aprons? I’ll die of embarrassment if I have to wear this. I look like Raggedy Ann.”
“You can wear blue jeans on the wagon,” said Mom. “But take the dress—you may want to wear it when you get to Valley Forge.”
“Think of it as dressing up for a giant birthday party for our whole country,” Julie said. “Just think, two hundred years ago was the original Fourth of July, with the Declaration of Independence.” Julie held up a hairbrush in a dramatic pose. “Give me liberty or give me death!”
“Give me my hairbrush,” said Tracy, grabbing the brush and stuffing it into her overflowing suitcase. “Okay, I’ll take the dress, but I need a second suitcase. I haven’t even packed my pillow yet, or my magazines, or—”
“Why not take your tennis racket, and your hair dryer, and your princess phone?” Julie asked, turning to admire her pioneer outfit in the mirror.
“Ha, ha, Julie Ingalls Wilder,” Tracy teased back.
Mom smiled. “I sure am going to miss you girls,” she said, handing each of them a gift.
Julie unwrapped her present. Inside was a blank book covered in fabric with orange pop-art daisies. “A journal!” She hugged the book to her. “Thanks, Mom. It’s perfect.”
“A trip like this is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” said Mom. “You’ll want to remember everything that happens.”
It didn’t take long for Julie to finish packing. From all the weekends she’d spent at Dad’s house, she’d become an expert packer. She neatly tucked her pioneer dress on top of her jeans, her T-shirts, and her Little House books.
“Please tell me you’re not taking all nine of those books in your suitcase,” said Tracy.
“Why not? At least my stuff all fits in one suitcase.” Julie glanced at Tracy’s two bulging suitcases. “Looks like you’re taking your whole closet and half the bathroom.”
Tracy shrugged. “So? This way I’ll be prepared for anything.”
***
That night, a fluttery mixture of excitement and nervousness kept Julie from falling asleep. She opened her new journal to the first page and wrote:
Things I want to do on my trip:
Ride a horse
Learn pioneer stuff like building a fire
Sleep in a tent
Make friends with cousin April
Julie paused and chewed the end of her pencil. There was something else she wanted to add, but she didn’t know quite how to put it. Finally she wrote:
Do something special for my country
She read over her list. The last line looked a little funny. After all, the wagon train was something special. Maybe that was enough. But Julie couldn’t help hoping that somehow she could do more than just go along for the ride. The wagon train journey would be a once-in-a-lifetime event, as Mom had said. Julie hoped that somehow she could be a special part of it.
***
“Buckle up,” said Julie’s father. “We’re getting ready for takeoff.”
Soon they were high up in the air. Dad took out a map of Pennsylvania and spread it across Julie’s tray table. Julie traced her finger along the route Dad had highlighted. It ended at Valley Forge.
“Dad, how come all the wagons are going to Valley Forge?” Julie asked.
“Well, it’s a big park, so there’ll be enough space for all the wagons, horses, and people,” said Dad. “And two hundred years ago, George Washington and his soldiers spent a long, hard winter in Valley Forge during the Revolutionary War. So it’s an important place in history.”
“Yeah, they were freezing and starving,” Tracy chimed in. “We read about it in school. They didn’t have enough shoes, or coats, or food, or anything. A lot of soldiers got sick.” She shook her head. “I never would have made it, that’s for sure.”
Dad chuckled. “Even those soldiers barely made it, but in the end, they pulled through—and turned the tide of the war. And because of them, we’re here today, and our country is two hundred years old.”
Julie thought back to that winter so long ago. It was difficult imagining the hardships those soldiers had lived through—and all because they had this idea of starting a new country. Would she be willing to go through that, all for an idea that might not even work? And later, settlers crossing the country in horse-drawn wagons to find new homes had known hunger and sickness, too. Julie looked out the airplane window into the vast blue sky. It was strange to think about George Washington and his soldiers, pioneers like Laura Ingalls and her family, and now her own family flying through the air in a jet plane—and how they were all part of the same country. They were all connected.
Guidance for girls today
By role modeling resilience, activism, and leadership in her stories, Julie helps girls understand they can face any situation:
Bouncing back. When tested by adversity, whether it’s at school or with her family, Julie’s always optimistic she’ll figure out a positive side to the changes in her life.
Speaking up. If there’s a cause Julie believes in, she summons the courage to make her viewpoint known and act upon it.
An example for all. Despite facing criticism, Julie is willing to risk failure in order to make things right.
“I hope readers realize that the struggles girls went through in the 1970s have paved the way for many of the wider opportunities that girls have today. What are often unquestioned rights now were intense political struggles for girls and women of the 1970s, such as divorce and equality for girls in sports. These stories can empower girls to create change—to know that they have the capacity to effect change in their own lives, no matter what obstacles they face.”
“I hope readers realize that the struggles girls went through in the 1970s have paved the way for many of the wider opportunities that girls have today. What are often unquestioned rights now were intense political struggles for girls and women of the 1970s, such as divorce and equality for girls in sports. These stories can empower girls to create change—to know that they have the capacity to effect change in their own lives, no matter what obstacles they face.”
— Megan McDonald, author of the Julie series
Authentic from the start
While the 1970s don’t feel like history to many people because they lived through the era, we didn’t simply rely on memories to craft Julie’s world. For more than three years, our staff historian, editors, and product designers researched nearly every aspect from the time and place of Julie’s story.
From there, author Megan McDonald supplemented her understanding of the time period by poring over hundreds of books, newspapers, magazines, and websites. But some of Megan's most relevant sources of information were related to her: four older sisters who helped Megan relive the 1970s.
Together the sisters were able to recall the sights, sounds, and smells of the time period. Rummaging through the family attic, they discovered old peasant shirts, hippie dresses, and seed beads, plus photographs, report cards, letters, and school papers. And of course, all while listening to records on vinyl!
With all this inspiration to tap into, the team developed a world that represents the 1970s as realistically—and “groovily”—as possible.
Julie’s sister goes “car stuffing”—a ’70s fad in which teens see how many of them can fit into a vehicle!
As technology became cheaper and smaller, curious girls like Julie could record their experiences in the world around them.
Before screens took over entertaining kids, board games like Chinese checkers were a favorite in the ’70s.
Putting it all into play
Everyone who grew up in this era recognizes the signature pieces of this set: striped Jell-O™, cuddle monkeys, Jiffy Pop™ (made on a stovetop, not in a microwave), plus a phone with an actual cord that was never long enough to reach your bedroom.
The iconic egg chair matches form with function—its funky shape provides noise cancellation for one of the chair's main purposes: listening to music, a growing influence on girls’ lives in the ’70s.
Julie’s bathroom features ’70s details like a furry toilet seat cover and macramé plant holder. Plus, the entire set folds up in a nod to the popular dollhouses from the time.
Highlighting flower power and the peace movement in its design, this working pinball machine would fit right in at any arcade in the 1970s.
Explore more of Julie’s world
Teachable history
We feel that Julie is such a good role model for our daughter. We want her to also speak up for what she believes in and to be a spunky, strong woman as she grows older. Thanks to American Girl for helping us start these conversations and for giving our daughter a role model to look up to!
American Girl Customer
EJoy