Saturday steppin' into the club
The music makes me wanna tell the DJ Turn It Up
I feel the energy all around
And my body can't stop moving to the sound

But I can tell that you're watching me
And you're probably gonna write what you didn't see
Well I just need a little space to breathe
Can you please respect my privacy

Sitting at her desk in her sixth period Spanish class, twelve-year-old Donna Jo Tanner (who liked being called "D.J." for short) was feeling very mixed-up — both angry and confused that afternoon at Van Atta Junior High. The reason why was the bully Colleen and her gang of girls; it was like they were the rulers of the school or something.

If only I could think of a good word I could call them in Spanish. (As I well know, the word "puta" obviously won't work because it definitely does mean a not-so-nice name for a girl when translated to English.) Maybe the word "bruja" could work instead.

It had been a very bad day for D.J. right from the start. As she had walked down the halls to her first class, Colleen and her cronies were standing there off to the side, and they looked her up and down. D.J. stopped and turned to face them just as Colleen stepped up to her.

"Hello, scrub," she hissed, her tone all snobby.

"What do you want?" D.J. replied as she did her best to keep herself from getting angry.

"For starters," Colleen remarked in the same snobby tone, "look at how you're dressed."

D.J. looked down at herself; her outfit consisted of a black T-shirt, blue jeans and white shoes. "So?"

"So, you look so scruffy and uncool. And your hair looks like something chewed on it," Colleen sneered. Then she laughed along with her gang as they pointed at D.J., who felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. Angrily, she brushed them away and continued off to her class.

D.J. shook her head, still hearing Colleen's insults as they kept repeating in her brain.

(Bridge:)
Why can't you just let me
Do the things I wanna do
I just wanna be me
I don't understand why
Would you wanna bring me down
I'm only having fun
I'm gonna live my life
(but not the way you want me to)

She hated it. The rumors. The pointing fingers. She recalled walking to her previous classes, while the bullies would point at her and laugh. And they would whisper things — and call her mean names such as "freak" or "copycat" (although D.J. couldn't help thinking they possibly mistook her for her best friend Kimmy Gibbler with the latter insult, since it was Kimmy who usually copied off of D.J. when it came to schoolwork and not the other way around), while other times they called her "teacher's pet" or even "flub girl" (although last time she checked, the latter was kind of brand-new, insult-wise).

And for D.J., that hurt; it was worse than being pelted with stones or being punched or slapped in the face so many times. By the time lunch time had rolled around, D.J. had to sit by herself. Whenever she'd walk up to a table, someone from that table would get up and stand in front of her, and she was forced to move on. The third attempt she came to a table where a football player was sitting. He placed his foot where she was going to sit and glared up at her.

"Sit somewhere else, Blondie!" he told her angrily as he kept his football on his other side next to him, while people began applauding.

D.J. walked off, wondering if she would ever be able find someplace to sit so she could eat her lunch. She tried to act like it didn't bother her, but deep down, it really did. That insult from the football player really hurt. Why did it seem like these people singled her out so they could push her around? She didn't do anything wrong.

All day she had been picked on by people who didn't even know her and teased by the popular girls. When she was walking to her last class that afternoon, someone came up behind her and knocked her books out of her hands. As she bent down to pick up her books and resume heading towards her last class, more people surrounded D.J. and her anonymous enemy.

"What are you gonna do about it, freak? Huh?"

Then, when she finally got her stuff together and resumed her walk to her sixth-period Spanish class, two boys walked over and shoved her up against the lockers.

"Ha! That'll teach you a lesson, geek!" one of them called, and then laughed mockingly.

(Chorus:)
I'm tired of rumors starting
I'm sick of being followed
I'm tired of people lying
Saying what they want about me
Why can't they back up off me
Why can't they let me live
I'm gonna do it my way
Take this for just what it is

Here we are back up in the club
People taking pictures
Don't you think they get enough
I just wanna be all over the floor
And throw my hands up in the air to a beat like (What?)

I've gotta say respectfully
I would like it if you take the cameras off of me
'Cause I just want a little room to breathe
Can you please respect my privacy

Finally, much to D.J.'s relief, the bell rang; finally, she could go home. After heading down the steps, she climbed onto the bus and found an empty seat. But as her luck would have it, Colleen and her cronies were sitting behind her.

"Hello, scrub."

Doing her best to ignore the insult, D.J. instead focused on her backpack in her lap.

"So I heard you were bullied and pushed around," Colleen expressed in a mock pity voice. "How sad. Too bad you don't have any friends to stand up for you, or that you can't stand up for yourself."

That one remark about not having any friends made the hair on the back of D.J.'s head stand up straight, and she rolled her eyes. A fresh lance of anger welled up within her, but she pushed it down, as she wanted to be nice. After all, to D.J., fighting with fists was resorting to violence, and that was the last thing she wanted.

As soon as the bus stopped in front of her house, she stepped out and was finally able to let the pent-up tears flow freely like a river.

(Bridge:)
Why can't you just let me
Do the things I wanna do
I just wanna be me
I don't understand why
Would you wanna bring me down
I'm only having fun
I'm gonna live my life
But not the way you want me to

(Chorus:)
I'm tired of rumors starting
I'm sick of being followed
I'm tired of people lying
Saying what they want about me
Why can't they back up off me
Why can't they let me live
I'm gonna do it my way
Take this for just what it is

Walking up to the house, D.J. opened the door and closed it before walking through the living room and into the kitchen. Her father Danny was sitting there at the table with her little sister Michelle, who was 2 and a half years old. Seeing D.J., his face broke into a grin.

"D.J.! Hey, how was your day at school?" he asked. D.J. wanted to tell him the truth, but for some reason she couldn't get the words out.

"Um, I'll tell you in my room, Dad," she replied. Danny's smile turned to a confused expression as D.J. then went up the stairs to her room (which she shared with her other little sister, seven-year-old Stephanie). With that, he also headed up the stairs after her.

D.J. was sitting on her bed when Danny walked in and sat beside her; she looked up, and her eyes were filled with tears as she began her story. 

"Today was one of the worst days of my life. There were these girls who just teased me for no reason other than to make me feel bad. I had to find an empty table at lunchtime because everyone else would block the table they were sitting at when I tried to sit there; when I was walking to my last class, someone walked up behind me and knocked my books out of my hands.

"Finally, these two boys shoved me against the lockers, and one of them called me a geek," D.J. finished.

Danny initially couldn't think of anything to say in reply to D.J.'s tale. He felt partly sad for her because he firmly believed no one should experience that kind of behavior, and partly angry at the students who picked on her the way they did. How could they treat his oldest daughter as though she was nothing?

Right then, he looked up to see Rebecca "Becky" Donaldson — his co-host on Wake Up, San Francisco and his brother-in-law Jesse Katsopolis's girlfriend — standing there in the doorway with a concerned expression on her face as she listened to D.J.'s story. He wanted to ask how long she'd been standing there, but changed his mind, deciding it wouldn't be a good thing to say in this case.

"Danny, I think you'd better let me handle this one," she explained. "I've been there, so I know how she feels."

"OK," Danny replied, getting to his feet and leaving the room, so Becky and D.J. could have their private chat. Deep down, he knew and firmly believed he could trust Becky with giving girl advice to his daughters; being a woman, she had a better understanding of how their minds worked. And he had to admit, thanking Becky for her help afterwards sure felt good too.

"D.J., those students probably bullied you because they felt insecure. But you don't have to let them ruin or run your life," Becky stated, as she comfortingly placing an arm around her future niece's shoulders. "I went through that at junior high once too."

"Really?" asked D.J., wiping away some of her tears.

"Yes," replied Becky. "But I held my head high and went about my work. Eventually, I was able to graduate from junior high and move on to high school. As for those bullies, they probably felt sad to see me go."

Becky noticed D.J.'s efforts to put on a brave smile, even with the tears staining her face. "Just do your best to be brave, D.J., for I know you can do it."

"Thanks, Becky. I needed that advice," D.J. replied.

"You're welcome," Becky nodded as she and D.J. hugged.

D.J. knew she could talk to Becky about anything in the world that concerned girls. Also she knew that somehow, Becky would make a great aunt for her, Stephanie and Michelle, as well as a great match for her uncle someday.