by Dyan Sheldon
By now, of course, the situation is a little more complicated than it was originally. Instead of one scraggly boy plastered against the trunk, Clemens has been joined beneath the ancient oak by Waneeda, Sicilee, Maya and Maya’s bicycle. Dr Firestone had assumed from what he’d been told over the phone that Clemens was by himself. A lone voice crying not in the wilderness but at the tennis courts, easy enough to drown out. Still, although he hasn’t looked at them closely, Dr Firestone can see that the three other figures under the trees are all girls. Girls, in Dr Firestone’s opinion, do not lead rebellions; they do the cooking for them. So no problem there.
Nodding, Dr Firestone straightens up, pats the foreman’s shoulder in a don’t-worry-I’ll-take-care-of-this way and walks calmly but authoritatively towards the tree and its protectors.
“Well, well, Mr Reis, fancy seeing you wrapped around a tree.” Dr Firestone is not a man to waste a smile, but the corners of his mouth do twitch. “I was under the impression that your views had matured in the last few months. That you’d learned some moderation…” He shakes his head, as if sad to find that another illusion has been shattered by the hammer of time. “But I see we’re back to our old extreme methods.”
The corners of Clemens’ mouth don’t twitch at all. “I’m not being extreme, Dr Firestone. I’m employing direct action. You know, like the Boston Tea Party? Those guys didn’t have any sense of moderation either.”
Dr Firestone is not about to get into a debate about historic protest movements with Clemens. They could be here all morning. “I hope you’re not seriously comparing yourself to our founding fathers, Mr Reis.”
“Of course not,” says Clemens. “I have no intention of taking up arms.”
Dr Firestone shifts his attention to someone he considers easier to deal with. Maya Baraberra is just the type to think that wrapping herself around a tree is cool, but she is also the type who is more about image than principles. “I must say, Ms Baraberra, I’m surprised to see you here.” The shadow of a smile flickers across Dr Firestone’s face. “It’s not like you to break the rules. I’d expect you to be in class by now.”
“I would’ve been in class,” says Maya in a way that makes the principal wonder why he’s always thought of her as a model student. “Only they decided to chop the trees down today after promising that they wouldn’t, so I’m here instead.”
Dr Firestone blinks. “I see…” He shifts his attention once again, still hopeful that he’ll find someone who isn’t determined to give him a hard time. Waneeda has always been so much a part of the background in school life that he has no idea who she is, which makes her at least a possibility. “Well, well…” he says, his eyes on her. “I’ve never known you to cause any trouble before…”
“We’re not causing trouble.” Waneeda’s expression is the facial equivalent to digging your heels in the ground. “It’s the tree crew that’s causing the trouble.”
Dr Firestone isn’t listening. His gaze falls on the last protestor with a jolt of surprise. “Ms Kewe!” Finding Sicilee among the troublemakers, looking like she’s just stepped out of the pages of Teenage Vogue, is no less astonishing than finding the First Lady knocking down pins in the Clifton Springs Lanes would be. And she looks happy to see him! “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
“I’m saving the planet, of course.” Sicilee’s hair swings over her shoulder like a beam of sunshine. “That’s why we’re all here.”
“Is it?” Lulled into a false sense of security because he isn’t aware that Sicilee smiles the way others breathe, Dr Firestone rocks back and forth very gently. “Well, I’m sure that’s very commendable … very commendable indeed. You know that I like to encourage our students to participate in the larger world… But I’m afraid that at the moment you’re not actually saving the planet, Ms Kewe. What you’re doing, I’m afraid, is causing a nuisance and an obstruction.”
“You have no right to cut down these trees,” says Clemens.
“But we aren’t just cutting them down, son.” Dr Firestone shakes his head at such a foolish misconception. “You may not be aware, but the council has promised to plant three trees elsewhere in town for every one tree that’s removed here.”
“Five-hundred-year-old trees?” asks Waneeda.
Dr Firestone chuckles as if he’s delighted to find that she has a sense of humour.
“But we presented a petition,” argues Clemens. “We’ve lodged an official appeal. We’re supposed to be waiting for the meeting in May to have a second vote.”
“Oh, I see…” Dr Firestone’s smile relaxes a little. All is clear. He understands. “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible oversight. I don’t know how it could have happened. You should have been informed that the appeal was rejected after all. The decision was made to go ahead in a special session of the town council.”
A connection exists between Clemens, Waneeda, Maya and Sicilee, due to the fact that they all belong to the same club. But up until this moment it has been a superficial connection at best – no more significant, really, than the connection between a random group of people, all of whom like root beer or peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Now, however, thanks to the hypocrisy and deceit of the town council, the school board and the administration, it takes on a new depth. Clemens, Waneeda, Sicilee and Maya all exchange the same look. Who the hell does he think he’s kidding? Such is the power of flagrant injustice to forge bonds.
“But that wasn’t the deal,” says Maya.
“Oh, but I think that if you look back at the records, you’ll find that it was.” It is one of Dr Firestone’s natural gifts that he always sounds reasonable and right – even when he is actually being neither. “Everything was agreed months ago. Long before your little petition.”
“No, that’s not true,” says Waneeda. “The deal was that there was going to be public consultation and debate.”
Dr Firestone shrugs – helplessly. Don’t blame me, his expression seems to be saying. “Well, I’m afraid that the opportunity was there, but no one availed themselves of it. And now it’s too late. The council’s decided to go ahead with the sports complex. As planned and previously agreed.”
Even Sicilee is looking serious by now. “And?”
“And I would like you all to get out of the way and let these men do their job.” Dr Firestone bestows on them one of his PTA smiles. P-r-i-n-c-i-p-a-l, as he likes to say. The principal is your pal.
“What if we won’t?” asks Waneeda.
As if by some unspoken agreement the girls all move closer to one another.
“Yeah,” chorus Maya and Sicilee. “What if we won’t?”
“Ladies…” purrs Dr Firestone. “I’m sure that you don’t want any trouble at this juncture in your high school careers.”
“But what if I do?”
The principal frowns at the three girls in front of him. And then he looks up. He never noticed Clemens scrabbling into the tree.
Chapter Forty-three
Last man standing
After Dr Firestone (muttering threats and promising to make Clemens regret his rash behaviour) storms off to confer with the foreman again, Clemens climbs a little higher, demonstrating a physical agility of which only Mrs Huddleston, who has seen him scamper over her back fence on more than one occasion recently, was aware. He’ll never get back down without help or breaking a leg, of course, but that’s a small price to pay for the annoyance he’s causing. Serves them right for being so untrustworthy. From his perch, Clemens can see Dr Firestone and the foreman, standing side-by-side, both holding their cell phones as if they’re grenades. Dr Firestone has been on and off his phone any number of times since he took up his position next to the foreman. Who did he call? The police? The National Guard? Mr and Mrs Reis? Come and get your son out of this tree or the only college he’ll get into will be in Peru?
It isn’t long before a crowd starts to gather. People walking past stop to see what’s going on. Neighbours, noticing the gro
ups of onlookers, come out to see what they’re looking at. Passing cars slow down and then pull over. Within mere minutes, the number of people with dogs, toddlers, their bedroom slippers still on or leaning against vehicles on Greaves Road could be in the Guinness World Records. Clemens looks down through the lacework of leaves on the growing throng and smiles. An audience is what he needs. Publicity. Witnesses. Complications. It’s too bad he didn’t think of this before.
Clemens leans against the trunk, more being held than holding on, enjoying the feeling of being in the sky – wondering who else has sat up here to think or dream and what they saw. Not someone arriving with a tray of coffees in paper cups and a box of doughnuts for the men determined to destroy this tree, that’s for sure.
Clemens sighs. It really is too bad that he didn’t think of it before. There are a lot of good things about spontaneity, but now he realizes that there are a few drawbacks he didn’t think about in the heat of the moment. There have been tree sit-ins that have lasted over a year, but those demonstrations were planned in advance; based on strategy, not impulse. Clemens, of course, acted on the spur of the moment. He’s made no preparations. He has no plan. How long does he really think his demonstration can last? It could get a little lonely, sitting in a tree – no matter what its age or how many its memories – not to mention uncomfortable. He has no food or water; no toilet; nowhere to sleep. What happens if it rains? What if, in this age of climatic uncertainty, the temperature suddenly drops or a freak tornado hits Clifton Springs? The girls have positioned themselves close to the base of the tree as guards, but Clemens knows that, if he leaves the tree even for a few minutes, when he returns Waneeda, Sicilee and Maya will have been taken away and there’ll be no getting back up. Making his great act of rebellion no more than an empty gesture.
And then he sees a tall, lean figure, coatless and bagless, nonchalantly strolling across the school grounds.
Clemens leans down through the leaves. “Here comes Cody!” he hisses. Clemens is so used to being a minority of one that it didn’t even occur to him that as soon as Cody heard about what was happening he’d walk out of the building and join him. Thank God. And Cody always has some scheme or angle. He always has a plan. “Here comes Cody!” The cavalry is on its way.
The girls have been standing close together, tense and angry and uncertain, not knowing what to expect and not knowing what to do should anyone try to move them away. But at the sight of Cody they immediately relax. Like Clemens, they think that Cody is here to help.
Sicilee claps her hands. “I knew he’d show up. He’ll make them understand.”
“Dr Firestone listens to him,” says Maya.
“Dr Firestone likes Cody,” says Waneeda.
Cody gives them one of his loose, hey-man waves as he ambles across the lawn, and they all wave back.
But he doesn’t so much as glance towards the trucks, where the principal and the foreman are smiling slightly over their coffees.
“Doesn’t he have to talk to them to make them understand?” Waneeda asks as Cody fails to make the crucial change of direction. “How come he’s coming over here?”
“Maybe he wants to talk to Clemens and us first,” suggests Maya. “You know, so he knows where we’re coming from.”
Waneeda frowns. “Shouldn’t he know that already?”
Which is, of course, a good point.
The reason Cody doesn’t go directly to Dr Firestone to dazzle him with his logic and persuasive eloquence is because he and the principal have already spoken, in some detail and at some length. After Clemens took to the tree and the girls gathered at the base, Dr Firestone had Cody pulled from his homeroom to speak to him on the phone. “Clemens is your friend,” said Dr Firestone. “See if you can’t talk some sense into him. The last thing I want to do is have to bring the police into this. Tell him that. Make him understand that I’m thinking only of him. This kind of thing isn’t going to look good on his record, you know.” Dr Firestone would hate to see Clemens’ future ruined over something as childish as climbing a tree. Cody Lightfoot is not someone whose view of the world is ever obscured by anyone else. His interest in the Environmental Club has always been as much about what it could do for him as what he could do for it. And so, as he approaches the huddle by the tree, what he’s thinking about is the other thing Dr Firestone would hate to see happen besides the destruction of Clemens Reis’ future. “You’ve put so much time and effort into the Earth Day preparations, Cody,” added the principal. “It’d be a real shame if that was jeopardized because of a stunt like this.”
As he nears them, Sicilee, Waneeda and Maya surge forward to meet him, all talking at once.
Can you believe that they’re doing this…? They lied through their teeth… They’re, like, totally going back on their word… Thank God you’re here… You have to help Clemens… You have to make Firestone listen to reason…
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Cody laughs, good-humoured and affable even in a crisis. “I know all about it.”
“Who told you?” asks Waneeda. “Has the rest of the club heard too?”
Although two questions have been asked, Cody answers neither. “You know what they say,” says Cody. “Good news travels fast, but bad news travels faster.”
“People are always sitting in trees in California, right?” asks Maya. “What do we do next?”
“I think you should talk to Firestone,” says Sicilee. “See if you can’t get him to call a truce.”
Cody shakes his head. “The man I want a word with is our brother in the tree.”
“But Sicilee’s right,” protests Maya. “If you talk to Dr Firestone first—”
“We’re counting on you to make him change his mind,” interrupts Waneeda. “He listens to you.”
Cody raises his hands like a speaker trying to still the applause. “What we all have to do here is be reasonable and calm.” He lowers his voice and winks in such a way that each of them thinks he’s winking at her. “We wouldn’t want Clem to fall out of that tree.” And then he pushes through them until he is standing directly under the branch where Clemens sits like a very large squirrel. “Hey, my man!” Cody gazes up. “What’re you doing up there?”
Clemens stops smiling. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“You’re missing first period, that’s what you’re doing.” Cody laughs so Clemens will know that he’s joking. “And you’re annoying the hell out of Dr Firestone and those dudes with the trucks.”
“Good.” Clemens doesn’t join in the laughter. “Because they’re absolutely annoying the hell out of me.”
Cody nods, but it is not, of course, a gesture of agreement. “Thing is, bro,” he says slowly, almost drawling, “that I think you kind of have to look at it from their point of view, you know? The reality is that they’re not against you, dude. They’re just doing what they do.”
Clemens’ eyes narrow. “Which means?”
“Which means they’re not persecuting you or your trees. They’re just doing their jobs.”
“They’re just doing their jobs?” repeats Clemens. Now he does laugh. “So I take it you didn’t come out here to join me, is that right?”
“No can do.” Cody makes a helpless gesture, not a million miles away from the one made by Dr Firestone not so very long ago. “I’m not saying that I think you’re wrong or anything, Clem. You’re right in the footsteps of a noble tradition. Civil disobedience is part of our history, right? It’s one of the things that’s made us a symbol of hope for the downtrodden and the oppressed. That whole no-taxation-without-representation scene… The suffragettes… Martin Luther King… But it’s not always the coolest thing to do. And I think this is one of those times when you have to go with the flow, not swim against the current.”
Although Cody isn’t looking at them, Waneeda, Maya and Sicilee are all looking at him. Sicilee and Maya, who have hoisted Cody on a pedestal of dreams, are clearly shocked to watch him not simply fall off, but jump. Even Waneeda,
whose feelings for Clemens have made her critical of Cody, looks surprised and somewhat shocked.
“Excuse me.” Waneeda taps him on the shoulder. “Are you saying that you think we should just give up? After all the work Clemens put into this?”
Cody doesn’t turn around. “Don’t think of it as giving up,” he says to Clemens. “Think of it as recognizing that this is one of those times that you just can’t win.”
“Wait a minute.” Maya moves closer. “What happened to protecting the Earth being the most important thing anyone can do? What happened to that?”
Cody still doesn’t turn around. “You can always fight another day,” he shouts up through the leaves. “But you’ve got to pick battles you know you can win.”
“Excuse me,” says Sicilee. “Maybe I misunderstood you, but I could swear I heard you say that principles are more important than opinions.”
Even the fact that Sicilee is standing on his foot doesn’t make Cody glance over at her. “I mean, let’s be practical here, Clem,” he goes on. “You have no food, no water, no shelter, no toilet… So you have to come down from there eventually. Probably sooner rather than later. And then it’s going to be boom, boom, chop, chop, adiós ancient vegetation.”
Maya grabs him by the arm. “But that’s no reason for us just to give up right away,” she insists. “The least we can do is put up a fight.”
Cody finally looks over at her. “I like your spirit,” he says, sounding remarkably like an adult telling a child that he really likes the necklace they’ve made out of pasta tubes coloured with poster paints. “I really do. Just like I admire Clemens’ spirit. But you’re missing the dock here and going straight into the marsh.”
Only yesterday Maya would have said that Cody Lightfoot could never irk or annoy her. She would have been wrong, of course.
“Why can’t you just speak English?” she snaps. “What’s ‘going straight into the marsh’ supposed to mean?”
