Boys, Bears, and a Serious Pair of Hiking Boots(2)
Author: Abby McDonald

“You’re selling off the back field!” Olivia appears beside me, her voice ringing with accusation. What she lacks in height, she more than makes up for in volume. “They’re going to rip it up and build condos!”

“And?” Principal Turner is unconcerned. “Those proposals were announced months ago.”

“Yes, but we’ve discovered the plans will endanger a rare species,” she announces proudly. “One that will have its habitat destroyed by the greedy, profit-driven decision-making of the school board. Not to mention the generations who will be robbed of a prime natural environment for the sake of —”

“Yes, yes.” Turner waves at her to stop. He pinches his sinuses for a moment, as if he’s got a headache coming on. “Endangered species?”

“Knieskern’s beaked-rush,” I confirm, hoping I got the pronunciation right.

Turner brightens. “You’re getting worked up over a type of grass?”

“Just because it’s not something glamorous like a bald eagle doesn’t mean it’s not important!” Olivia protests, hands on her hips.

“I agree.” Then, if his agreement wasn’t worrying enough, Turner begins to smirk. “Knieskern’s beaked-rush certainly needs protecting.” He gives us a smug smile. “Although since it’s a wetland species, I don’t think we’re in danger of breaking any laws here on dry land, do you?”

Busted.

“But the ground is pretty damp,” Olivia argues in vain. “Miss Kirk won’t let us practice cross-country back here because of that time Meghan skidded and sprained her ankle.”

“It wouldn’t take much to commission an independent wildlife assessment,” I add, trying to be the voice of reason. “Maybe delay the sale by a couple of months and —”

“Enough!” Turner suddenly explodes. “I want you and your . . . fellow agitators packed up and gone. Do you hear me?”

We both take a step backward. His face is turning a strange shade of pink.

“You may have complete disregard for my authority, young ladies, but perhaps some of your, your comrades care about their college applications!”

I hear fearful murmurs behind me, but despite my faint lurch of panic, I don’t surrender. The school has been waving around that “college application” trump card for years now, but every single one of the Green Teen seniors got accepted into their first-choice college. It’s an empty threat. At least, I hope it is.

Luckily, I have one last card to play, too. “You know, why don’t I give that nice woman at KPXW a call?” I turn to Olivia theatrically. “The one we met at that last council meeting?”

“You mean Linda, in the news department?” Olivia catches on, answering with an exaggerated frown.

“That’s right. She did say to call if we were doing any more protests.” I glance back at Principal Turner. “I bet they’d have a crew out here in no time to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Great idea.” Olivia pulls out her cell phone. “I think I’ve got her number here. . . .”

“That won’t be necessary!” Turner suddenly has a change of heart. “Why don’t we, uh, all calm down?”

“We are calm,” I answer sweetly. “We’re just trying to protect the environment.”

“And that’s very admirable.” His bald spot is shiny with sweat, and I can just see him picturing the local evening news: “Evil Principal Kills Defenseless Wildlife!” He pauses. “Didn’t you say something about an independent assessment . . . ?”

“To study the natural impact of construction,” I finish, handing him a flyer. “See? The federal hotline number is right there.”

We wait. Olivia clutches my hand, and we both cross our fingers. Behind us, the crowd grows restless.

Finally, Turner gives a long, mournful sigh. “Very well. I’m sure we can delay the final approval for a while.” He looks around, defeated.

“Omigod!” Olivia shrieks, clutching me with joy. “We did it! We did it!”

The Green Teens begin to cheer, and I feel a wave of pride sweep through me. Victory!

We’re enveloped by shouts and high-fives as the group celebrates, but I remember to turn back. “Thank you!” I tell Turner. “Really, I mean it. Thank you!”

He almost rolls his eyes, turning to go, but before he can even take a step, Olivia grabs a sign and lunges forward.

“Don’t mess with the Green Teens!” she yells, just inches from his face. Turner jerks back in shock, and the ground underfoot must be wetter than he expected, because he lands heavily on one foot and starts to slip. I gasp, but there’s nothing I can do. His foot slides forward, his body tips back, and before any of us can move, he skids ass-backward into a huge puddle of noxious liquid.

Squelch.

“See?” Olivia sniggers. I grab her arm to shut her up, but she just can’t help laughing triumphantly. “Wetlands. We told you so!”

2

Principal Turner’s newfound love of the environment doesn’t extend to the mud all over his wrinkled mall-store suit. His lecture on respect and authority lasts forever, and if that isn’t dull enough, he has us stay late to slosh gray paint over parking lot graffiti as penance. By the time I pull into our driveway and unpack the panniers on my bike, it’s almost dinnertime.

“Hey, Mom. Sorry I’m late.” I haul an armful of cloth bags into the gleaming kitchen, spilling lentil and soy-bean packages all over the counter. The day I announced I was going to eat only fair-trade, free-range, vegetarian produce was the day my mom suggested I buy my own groceries. I don’t mind. It saves me from accidentally eating food from some corporation that exploits migrant workers or injects their produce with growth hormones.

“Hi, sweetie.” Mom has the phone trapped against her shoulder as she whisks dressing in a glass jug. Her blond hair is sculpted into a perfect bob, and she’s wearing neat gray pants and a creamy silk blouse. “Remind me to switch cable companies.” She sighs, leaning over to land a quick kiss on my forehead as I pass. “They’ve had me on hold forever.” She tastes the dressing and pauses, adding another sprinkle of pepper. “Good day?”

“Good enough.” I shoot her a nervous glance, not sure if news of our protest has made it through the PTA gossip tree yet. But it looks like I’m free and clear, because she just suggests, “You should go wash up before dinner. I made your favorite, that tofu-nut bake, and your father should be down in a minute.”