by Micol Ostow
Adam nodded grimly. “Obviously, we want to work with administrators to the best that we can, but you know what they say about the squeaky wheel…”
Billie couldn’t deny that. And despite the nagging feeling that Ritter might not appreciate her joining a group that was going to protest his policy, Billie was in—all in.
Luckily, Parker seemed to feel as galvanized as she did, and the two left the Green Gorillas’ meeting buzzing with energy and anticipation—something she knew had nothing to do with the caffeine surging through their systems.
“That was…incredible,” she gushed as they boarded a bus heading back to their neck of the woods. “I owe you a huge thanks for the hookup.”
Well, not “hookup” hookup, she realized, blushing to herself and allowing a momentary mind movie of Adam’s sparkling eyes. Maybe there was another reason for the tingling she felt all across the surface of her skin...
Unfortunately, back at school on Monday, Heather was nowhere to be found. Rumor had it that she’d caught an icky stomach bug that had been going around. Or maybe she was just suffering from the same vitamin-D deficiency that seemed to have taken hold of Billie herself.
Forced to put her need for girl talk on hold, Billie went for the next best thing. She tracked Parker down in the student newspaper office.
As usual, she found him in position behind his enormous computer monitor, engrossed in whatever his latest story was. The screen threw ghostly flickers of light across his face as he stared ahead, lost in thought. Billie almost hated to disturb him.
Almost. But not quite.
Giggling to herself softly, she tiptoed up behind him, snaking her hands lightly around his face and placing them firmly over his eyes. “Guess wh—”
Parker shouted “Whoa!” and jumped up from his seat, clearly startled.
Billie dropped her hands to her sides and stepped back sheepishly. “Did you guess?”
“I guess you almost gave me a heart attack!” Parker said, his voice stern, but his eyes twinkling. “Jeez.”
“Sorry ’bout that.” Billie tried to look contrite, but it was hard when the corners of her mouth still wanted to perk up into a grin. Parker was cute when he was scared half to death. “But…I have a great story idea for us!”
“Yeah?” Parker motioned for her to take a seat at the swivel chair next to his own. “If you’re not exaggerating, then all is forgiven.”
“I’m not exaggerating. At least, I don’t think so,” Billie assured him, settling down next to him and leaning forward with enthusiasm. “I was thinking we could do a profile on the Green Gorillas, you know? And the sit-in they’re planning.”
She had been thinking about it—all day Sunday while she was supposed to be working on homework, the thought of the piece had played itself over and over in her mind.
The thought of the piece, and the piercing brightness of Adam’s eyes.
Somehow, though, she didn’t think the part about Adam’s eyes was going to be the winning argument for Parker. So she’d decided to take a different tack. The activist tack. If she’d learned one thing about Parker since arriving in D.C., she knew how to hit him where he lived.
“The thing is”—she said, words pouring from her mouth in a heated rush—“the sit-in is something that anyone can get involved in, you know? And it’s so proactive—like, just the one day, but a day of action. And talk about visibility! You remember what Adam said—the Gorillas’ blog gets, like, hundreds of hits a day. Trust me—people will know about this protest. It’s going to be so much more effective than all of those stupid mailings, e-mails, and endless, pointless ‘research’ that we’ve been doing over at Ritter’s office. And you know we’re not the only ones who are totally tired of the busywork.” Her eyes glittered as she described the plan. She truly couldn’t wait to pull it off.
“It definitely sounds like it could be big,” Parker agreed.
Billie couldn’t help but hear the slight note of reluctance in his voice. “But?”
“I just…wonder how Mr. Ritter is going to take it. The news of your involvement, I mean.”
Billie’s eyebrows squinched up. For her part, she’d been trying not to think about that. “Maybe he’ll be impressed that we’re taking…um, initiative?” Her voice squeaked, a telltale giveaway that her confidence wasn’t nearly as strong as she was hoping to project.
Parker shrugged. “Look,” he said, “I think the sit-in is a good idea. I mean, heck, sign me up. But it’s possible that Mr. Ritter would prefer something a little more off the grid. You know, quieter. Walk softly, and all that. Since you’re basically protesting against his own office.”
Billie slapped her palm against the desk. The horrible part was, of course, that Parker made sense. She’d have to be mad not to assume that the sit-in wouldn’t ruffle some feathers.
But still. “We have been walking softly. Too softly. And the result is that the bay might never be cleaned.”
Parker shook his head again. “I believe you. And like I say, I’m not disagreeing with you. But I’ve known the Ritters for a while now, and I think you might want to give Mr. Ritter the heads-up about it before D-day. And before you write it up for the paper.”
Billie considered this for a moment. The notion of confronting Mr. Ritter was terrifying, even if it was the Right Thing to Do. For the time being, she decided to put the Mr. Ritter issue out of her mind. She’d get him to see it her way. Maybe he wouldn’t ever really embrace the idea of the sit-in, but if nothing else, he’d understand where she was coming from.
She hoped.
But, yeah—for now, back burner. Because what Parker had just implied was much more exciting news.
“Meaning…you’ll let me write it up for the paper?” Parker nodded. “Who am I to stand in the way of free speech? Besides—here at the Daily, we’re all about high… profile…ness…”
He was teasing her, of course, but Billie could see that through the faint smile, something was bothering him. Something having nothing at all to do with the paper, Proposition Seven, or anything remotely related to politics. She leaned forward, gazing at him steadily. “What’s up?”
“Deadlines, you know,” he said, waving her off.
Billie would not be put off. “You’re in a Mood.” Funny that she should know Parker well enough to recognize a Mood when she saw it, but there it was. Moodiness. “Give it up.”
“It’s nothing.” Parker looked uncomfortable. He coughed, clearing his throat, and when he glanced at Billie again, his face was impassive. “You and Adam seemed to get along, huh?”
“Um, yeah, I guess,” Billie said. She was confused. What did Adam have to do with Parker’s Mood? Now she really needed some quality time with Heather. She’d never understand boys.
Parker sighed heavily, leaning forward and placing his hands on his thighs. “Have you heard anything from Eliza lately? Has she…has she asked about me at all?”
The question lay between them, radioactive with meaning. Billie and Eliza had been e-mailing, of course, but lately Eliza hadn’t mentioned one word about Parker—whatever that meant for their relationship hiatus. And Billie’s Melbourne mates had reported that Eliza had fallen in with Jess and Nomes. It wasn’t a bad thing—Billie was friendly enough with Jess and Nomes and thought they were cool girls, if a little rowdier than she and her mates were—it just meant that Eliza was probably keeping herself busy. Probably with boys—or maybe even one boy in particular. Billie swallowed. If there was one thing she suspected above all, it was that Eliza was probably off making good use of her “space” from Parker.
“No,” she said finally. “I haven’t heard anything. But”—she tried to cover—“I think the internship that she signed on for is loads more intense than ours. Like, she’s out in the field mucking about all day. No time for messages back home.”
Billie stood, resting her hands on her hips purposefully. Something needed to be done about the Mood situation, posthaste. But what? “There must be some pl
ace in this city that isn’t soaked in partisanship, right?”
Parker blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Some place that the tourists go when they’ve had enough with the Capitol Building, the Mall, the White House, and all of that.”
“The zoo’s pretty big,” Parker confessed, after a thoughtful moment. “Especially when the weather’s nice.”
Billie glanced out the window at the sunny, crisp fall day. “As it is today,” she said pointedly. “Decision made. We’re going. After last period.”
“To the zoo?” Parker asked, as though she’d suggested a brief jaunt to Pluto, or Narnia, or flat-out jet-setting back to Australia for a few hours.
“It sounds fun. You need fun.” She narrowed her eyes at him, willing it to be so. “You are going to have fun.”
The good news was, the National Zoo was definitely fun. So that was something.
Billie and Parker had meandered through the rolling paths in no particular rush, only to find themselves mesmerized by the giant panda habitat, of which the zoo seemed appropriately proud. Pandas of different ages—and levels of cleanliness, Billie noted casually—munched contentedly on large green leaves and generally ignored the fact that they were being ogled by masses of wide-eyed tourists.
“So, what’s the deal?” Parker asked. He scratched at his nose and glanced down at the plaque that hung before them. “Is there such a thing as a non-giant panda? Like, a mini panda?”
“I reckon not,” Billie said. She giggled, and tapped at the tall glass wall. A mama panda, extremely roly-poly and looking none too hyper, blinked sleepily. “I mean, other than baby giant pandas, I suppose.” They’d already caught a glimpse of a baby panda being bottle-fed by a zoo official. Talk about cute overload. It was dead unbearable. But at least it’d had the desired effect of causing Parker to smile.
“Baby giant. That’s an oxymoron,” Parker observed.
“Always thinking like a writer,” Billie said, shoving up against him. “Can’t you take even an afternoon off?”
He shook his head ruefully. “I’m here, aren’t I? I watched the whole feeding thing. With the bottle, and the…feeding.”
“Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t love that,” Billie threatened.
Parker shrugged, then smiled reluctantly. “Let’s keep that to ourselves. It’s not exactly manly, you know, getting all hyped up about baby bears.”
“I’ll take it to the grave,” Billie swore. “And for what it’s worth, pandas aren’t actually bears.” She held up the leaflet they’d picked up when they’d paid their admission to the zoo. “Let’s check out the marsupials next. You know: the koalas or kangaroos.”
“Native to the Australian region,” Parker replied, raising an eyebrow. “You getting homesick?”
Billie looked around in surprise, realizing. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not at all.”
It was ironic that she should come literally halfway around the world, and here Parker was talking about koalas and kangaroos. She couldn’t be farther away from Australia, here at the zoo. And yet for now, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
Chapter Seventeen
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: fish and chips
Hi there! How’re you going?
Rumor has it you’ve been spotted behind the counter at Fishy Wishy. I can’t believe my parents put you up to that! Well, chalk it up to yet another “culturally rich” experience.
It sounds like you guys have been getting on well, though, which is great. In fact, it may be more than I can say for myself and your parents.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m hardly the rebellious type. But ever since the news broke about the Proposition Seven funding, I’ve been trying to find a way to reconcile my conscience with my work at your father’s office. And what I have in mind may not be exactly what he was hoping for when he first signed off on my internship. . . .
Billie
“ELIZAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”
Eliza woke with a start. She’d been dreaming that little lollipop people were chasing her, yelling her name.
It wasn’t hard to see where that dream had come from.
“EEEEEELIZA!!!”
Oh no…Those weren’t lollipop people…
It was the twins. Eliza had to watch them Saturday morning while the Echolses went to brunch with some friends. Clearly, they were raring to go and now were pounding on the door to her room.
“Come on out and play.” It was Nick. Or Sam. Or maybe both. It didn’t matter right now.
“I’M UP! Give me five minutes and I’ll be out.”
She heard them start counting on the other side of the door.
“One Mississippi, Two Mississippi…”
The twins used to count using the one one-thousand method, but Eliza had taught them to use Mississippi, which they enjoyed much more and apparently made them quite the cause célèbre on the playground with their friends. At this hour, though, she didn’t care how they counted, she just wished they would stop!
This is SO not right for a Saturday morning. Eliza swung her feet out of bed and rubbed her eyes. This is going to be a very long day.
“Oh, you’ve got to go!” Jess’s voice rang through the phone.
Eliza lay on her back staring at the ceiling after a grueling day of babysitting the twins and then serving fish and chips. The rest of the family was now in the living room watching a movie while Eliza hid out in her room.
“I told Nomes, and she spat the dummy at the thought of you missing a trip to Bells with Macca. We decided; you’re going,” Jess said in a way that left little room for debate.
“I don’t know. The Echolses will freak out, and I will definitely be grounded until the moment they put me on the plane back home.” She thought back to her last e-mail from Billie and smiled ruefully at the irony of the two of them cranking up the parental worry-o-meter at almost exactly the same time. Coincidence? Or foregone conclusion?
Eliza rolled onto her side and held the phone against her ear with a pillow as she absentmindedly played with the fur on the giant purple stuffed dolphin on Billie’s bed.
“Yeah, but you’re going to miss out on the summer. You’re not even going to get a Christmas barbecue. Bloody oath, you should go.”
“I don’t know, Jess. Running away seems…extreme.”
“You are not running away. You’re going on a little trip for a couple days. It’s, I don’t know, a cultural learning experience.”
“I hear you but…I just don’t know.” There was only so far she could stretch the whole “learning experience” excuse, even in her own mind.
“Whatever. So are you bringing a swag…er, sleeping bag?”
“Oh! I haven’t even thought about that. I don’t have one, and I definitely can’t ask the Echolses for one of theirs. I could probably swipe a blanket from the closet, though.”
“Or you could use a tartan blanket by the name of Hamish to keep you warm.”
Eliza could picture Jess’s knowing grin even over the phone. “Shut up,” she said, not really meaning it or minding the innuendo, and they both had a giggle. “All right, well, I’d better get to bed.”
“Okay, but listen, I think you should go. What’s the worst they could do?”
“Tell my parents. Tell S.A.S.S. Send me back home,” Eliza ticked off the horrible possibilities. “You’re a bad influence.”
“That’s for sure!” Jess said proudly.
Eliza laughed, and the girls said their good-byes.
After hanging up with Jess, Eliza was more conflicted than ever. To go, or not to go, that was the question.
She flopped backward on her bed and mentally hashed out the pros and cons of going away with Macca and his friends.
Pro: Macca is fun, and his friends will be, too. Between the Fishy Wishy and babysitting, I’ve been working my butt off, and deserve a little fun.
Con: The Echolses might not exact
ly see things my way.
Pro: Macca is hotness personified.
Con: I don’t have any second chances left.
Pro: If Billie really goes through with the sit-in thing, my parents will have their hands full. Hers will, too, probably.
Con: Or they’ll just lock us both up together and throw away they key.
Pro: You only live once.
She sat up, biting her lip. Then she reached for her cell phone.
Macca answered after only one ring. “What’s it going to be?”
Eliza took a deep breath. “What time are you picking me up tomorrow?”
Eliza felt like a secret agent. After she showered and got dressed in the morning, she packed up her clothes and toiletries, a pair of very cute flip-flops, and a magazine or two. She stuffed everything into a backpack usually reserved for her schoolbooks or for carry-on when flying, and tossed it out the window. Steve was going to pick her up for work on the corner—she’d made special arrangements this morning so as to avoid arousing suspicion from the Echolses if they were to catch sight of her overnight bag.
Eliza grabbed a piece of toast as she passed through the kitchen and said a quick good-bye to the Echolses, trying her best to act nonchalant. She ducked around the side of the house, picked up the backpack from where it had landed in the garden, and went to the corner to wait for Steve.
The day dragged on forever. The nice weather seemed to have drawn people down to the beach a day earlier than usual, so the lunch rush was particularly busy. She shuffled back and forth between the tables and the counter, dropping off trays of fish and clearing and wiping tables when people left.
It was astonishing to Eliza what little regard people had for their manners when they were away from home. Customers would get irate over minor mistakes that were easy to fix—a vanilla milkshake instead of a chocolate one or two sides of slaw instead of three. It was shocking.
