Operation Redwood

by S. Terrell French

  There was a timid knock on the door. Julian opened it, and Preston looked quickly down the hall and slipped inside. He was dressed in his plaid bathrobe and slippers and was holding a paper napkin and two pieces of cheese pizza on a paper plate.

  “Julian!” he said, his face bright with pleasure. “I saved two pieces for you. They’re still kind of warm, even.”

  “Thanks. You’re a good cousin. You’re the best one I’ve got!” It was an old joke. He was starving. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

  Preston sat down cross–legged on his bed. “I can only stay a minute because I’m not allowed to be in here. Mom went out. Helga’s on the phone with her boyfriend.”

  Julian nodded. That should give them ten minutes at least. He sat down and began to devour the pizza.

  “So, where did you go?”

  Julian sat for a moment, chewing. “Well, I went to visit a friend of mine.”

  “Who? Danny?”

  Julian smiled. Preston had only met Danny twice, but he adored him and was always talking about him.

  “No, a girl. Named Robin. She lives kind of far away from here,” he said, between bites.

  “How did you get there? Did you take an airplane?”

  “No,” Julian said with regret. It wasn’t fair that he’d never even been in an airplane and Preston had practically flown around the world. “A bus. Not like a city bus. A bus that goes to different towns.”

  “But why didn’t you go to camp? I went to camp last summer and it was really fun.”

  “Well . . .” Julian hesitated. “I wanted to see my friend. And I guess it wasn’t really the right camp for me.”

  Preston shook his head. “Mom and Dad were really mad. When they found out. I don’t think it was a very good idea.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Julian finished the crusts of the pizza and wiped his hands on the napkin. “So what have you been up to? Did you finish your redwood report?”

  Preston nodded. “I got a five plus out of five. Do you want to see it?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll see what Helga’s doing. Then I’ll come back.” He leaped to his feet. “If I can,” he added seriously. He took the greasy paper plate and napkin, opened the door, and looked both ways. Then he scurried in his silent slippers down the hallway.

  A few minutes later, Preston was back, carrying an enormous poster. In the center, he had drawn the outline of a giant redwood tree with crayon and painted it with watercolors. Around the tree were circles of colored construction paper printed with Preston’s neat handwriting.

  “We had to have eight facts and two opinions,” Preston said with pride. “I did a ‘sloppy copy,’ and then I did the final draft.” Julian knew how long it took Preston to write a single sentence. He must have spent hours putting the poster together.

  “See, here’s fact number one,” Preston said. “‘More than 95 percent of the original redwood forest has been cut down.’” Next to this, he had drawn a picture of nineteen stumps and one tree. “Because 95 percent is the same as nineteen out of twenty,” he explained. “My teacher helped me figure that out.

  “Fact number two: ‘The oldest recorded redwood tree is more than 2,200 years old, but the species Sequoia sempervirens’— I don’t know if I’m saying it right—‘has existed for millions of years.’ I drew a dinosaur here because there were redwoods during the time of the dinosaurs.

  “Fact number three: ‘The tallest redwood tree is 379 feet high.’ I didn’t need to draw a little picture here. See, I just drew a ruler along the big tree.

  “Fact number four: ‘Redwood trees provide shade and protection for chinook and coho salmon streams.’ This is my best picture. Well, maybe after the big redwood.”

  The salmon had each scale drawn in pencil and colored in with blue and green watercolors. The scales looked watery and shimmery.

  “That is a work of art,” Julian said. “You’ll have to show me how to make a fish like that.”

  “I messed up on the green, so I put blue on top, and see, it turned out great,” Preston said happily. “OK, here’s my first opinion. Well, it’s not exactly an opinion. It’s more like a wish but my teacher said it was OK: ‘I wish I could live in a redwood forest.’”

  Julian thought of Big Tree with a sudden pang. “I’d like to live in a redwood tree.”

  “Oh, that would be even cooler, like a tree house. I didn’t think of that. Well, actually, I kind of have something about that later. You’ll see. OK, here’s fact number five: ‘Some animals that live in the redwood forest are salamanders, banana slugs, spotted owls, marbled murrelets, elk, deer, flying squirrels, fishers, and bats.’ A fisher is actually not a fish, like I thought. It’s cute—like an otter. See? Here’s my flying squirrel. It didn’t really turn out.”

  Julian had to admit that it looked a little like a rat. “But squirrels and rats are both in the rodent family,” he added gently.

  “Fact number six: ‘In 1999, the government protected thousands of acres of land in Humboldt County in the Headwaters deal. It is mostly old–growth, which means trees that were not planted by people but have been there a long time.’ I didn’t know what to draw for this one,” Preston said. “You see, finally I decided to draw this girl in the top of a tree. I can’t remember her name, but she lived in a tree for two years to keep them from cutting it down and after that they saved the Headwaters.”

  “Julia Butterfly Hill?” Julian asked, and Preston nodded. Julian wondered why it was that as soon as he learned something new, he would suddenly realize that everybody else already knew it. He’d ask Danny if he knew who Julia Butterfly Hill was.

  “Fact number seven,” Preston was saying, “is here: ‘Trees are measured in board feet. One board foot equals a piece of wood one foot long, one foot wide, and one inch thick.’” Next to this fact, he’d drawn a little wooden board with two tiny rulers along each side.

  “I like your knothole,” Julian said.

  “Here’s my last fact: ‘One old–growth redwood tree can be worth $150,000.’ My dad told me that one. You were allowed to interview people, and my teacher said he counted.” The last picture showed a tree with a $150,000 price tag attached.

  “Here’s my last opinion. ‘If I had a million dollars, I would buy six redwood trees so that nobody could cut them down.’ You see, I had to figure out the math. My teacher helped me because I was trying to figure out how many redwood trees I could buy with a million dollars. I thought it would be a lot, but it turned out it was only six, plus a remainder, which isn’t that many.”

  Julian wished he could tell Preston about Big Tree Grove, and the tree house, but it was too risky. Instead, he said, “You did a great job on your poster. It’s amazing. It looks like a fifth–grader did it.” Preston flushed with pleasure.

  “Now you better get out of here,” Julian added reluctantly. “I’m already in enough trouble for both of us.”

  Julian woke up the next day with a curious empty feeling. A morning of waiting turned into an afternoon of waiting, which turned into a blank, dull evening. His meals were brought to him on a tray by the housekeeper, and he was permitted to leave his room only to go to the bathroom. He was tempted to use his pocket knife to carve his initials into the baseboard, like the immigrant prisoners on Angel Island, but was sure that not even the tiniest defacement would escape Daphne’s eagle eyes. After spending a whole day alone, Julian began to feel as though he didn’t even exist. He began to understand why solitary confinement was considered a punishment even for people who were already in prison.

  As soon as it was dark, Julian tried to go to sleep, but since he’d spent the day doing nothing, he wasn’t at all tired, and he tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally drifting into sleep. He woke up feeling heavy and groggy and unsettled.

  Julian had finished the cereal from his breakfast tray and was drinking his orange juice as slowly as possible when he heard a quick knock. Immediately, his uncle walk
ed in and sat down in the wooden chair across from his bed.

  “Good morning, Julian.” As always, Sibley’s hair was neatly parted on the side and his steely eyes were humorless.

  “Good morning.” Julian’s voice was rusty with disuse.

  “You’ve had some time now to think about what you’ve done,” his uncle said. “I have several issues to discuss with you. First, your behavior has been inexcusable. We gave you a good home for two months. Daphne went out of her way to arrange your summer vacation—and how do you pay us back? By running away. By disrupting our entire household. You have no idea the trouble your little escapade caused.”

  Julian waited silently for him to finish.

  “We’re trying to contact your mother. Given your behavior, we think it’s best that she return immediately.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Julian that his mother might have to cut short her trip to China. He lowered his gaze and shifted uneasily.

  “I would also like some explanation for your behavior. Why would you go up to that place? Were those people friends of your mother’s? What were you thinking?”

  Sibley stopped, waiting for a response, while Julian stared at the hole in his blue jeans. Was his uncle trying to trap him, or was it possible that he hadn’t yet made the connection between Big Tree Grove and the Elders? Either way, Julian could see no advantage in telling his uncle the truth about his escape. The intercepted e–mails, Danny’s inspired invention of the Plan, all the plotting they had done to make it work—these were all wrapped together in his mind with his days at Huckleberry Ranch. These were things to keep close to the heart.

  On the other hand, he didn’t have the energy, or the wits, to come up with another plausible explanation for his actions. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that plans did not always work out exactly as you’d imagined. Whatever story he made up, Sibley could double check by interrogating Danny or, worse, contacting the Elders.

  To speak the truth was impossible. To disguise the truth under a web of new lies would just lead him back in a circle to where he was now.

  Julian said nothing.

  His uncle waited a long time, until the silence became almost unbearable. Finally, very slowly and without ever dropping his gaze from Julian’s face, he said, “Julian, I asked you a question. I would like an explanation of what’s going on here.”

  A strange calm came over Julian. His uncle’s pale eyes were boring into him, as if they were trying to access the data hidden in his mind, but Julian felt cool and detached.

  “For the last time, Julian,” his uncle said, “answer me.”

  Julian felt like he was floating high above the room. He saw that, really, his uncle’s anger was not so important. It was not as important as Big Tree Grove. The circle of redwoods was still there, hidden deep in the forest, cool and shady and quiet. It would be there long after his uncle’s anger had died away. Or it should be. It should be there forever.

  Sibley stood up. “I’m sorry that you have made this decision, Julian. I don’t have to tell you that there are going to be consequences, serious consequences.” He stared at Julian for a long time, shook his head, and walked out, closing the door angrily behind him.

  hen he looked in the bathroom mirror the next morning, Julian was surprised to see his own familiar face staring back at him—the unruly black hair, the dark uptilted eyes. He had survived another empty, endless day and dream–filled night, and he felt that the solitary weekend should have transformed him, made him look somehow older, wiser, and more gaunt, but his face was disappointingly the same.

  Almost as soon as he returned to his bedroom, he heard a sharp rap on the door and his aunt appeared before him in her tennis outfit.

  “Julian,” she said, her voice already registering her distaste. “Your uncle and I have discussed your consequences.” She stopped, waiting for Julian to look her in the eye. “We still haven’t been able to contact your mother.” Daphne gave him a severe look, as though this was somehow Julian’s fault. “But obviously we can’t have you moping around here all day. Especially if you won’t even talk. So until she returns, we’ve enrolled you in the Quantum Childcare Center.

  “These are the rules: The Center is open from nine to six. When it closes, you’ll return here immediately and go straight to your room. You will not go over to friends’ houses, and you will not receive friends here. When you’ve provided us with a written explanation of your actions, and an apology, we will reconsider the rules and determine any appropriate changes.”

  Daphne’s voice had taken on some of the steely inflection of her husband’s. Julian could imagine the two of them coolly discussing the terms of his imprisonment with the same seriousness they brought to any domestic issue, like a bathroom remodel or a dinner party.

  “Do you understand me?”

  Julian nodded.

  “I suppose a ‘thank you’ would be too much to ask,” Daphne added disagreeably, and walked out the door.

  Quantum Childcare Center was located in the basement of an old church. When Julian arrived, two little boys with blank faces were playing math games on the computer and a few girls from school were milling about. There was Grace Wu, whom he’d known since first grade, now long–haired and with an inch of bare skin showing above her jeans. She came toward him and started asking him about his summer. But her questions only reminded Julian of Huckleberry Ranch, and he couldn’t bring himself to say more than a few words. Finally, she gave up and walked away.

  Most of the morning was “free time.” Julian persuaded a glum fourth–grader named Gus to play Chinese chess with him. They used a bottle cap and a piece of broken crayon to replace the missing pieces. Julian won two games and let Gus win the third, which seemed to cheer him up a little. Later, the counselors set out dirty tubs of paint for “art.” Julian slumped on his stool for a long time, staring at the blank paper. Then he dipped his paintbrush in silver and painted a shining river. Around it, he painted two dark mountains and a black sky with silver stars.

  Julian spent the next afternoon on the Quantum playground, shooting baskets by himself under the sun’s gray glare. The wind had blown over the trash can, and crumpled papers, soda cups, and plastic bags were scattered everywhere. He was trying to make his fifth basket in a row when somebody slammed into his side and knocked his ball to the ground. Julian looked up angrily.

  “Danny!” he cried in surprise.

  “Julian!” Danny gave him a hug that lifted Julian off the ground. “I was afraid I’d never see you alive again!” He stepped back, his black eyes shining. “I tried to call you a hundred times over the weekend. My mom even tried. All we’d get was the machine, and then finally we got your aunt but she kept saying you were unavailable, like she was holding you down in the dungeon or something.”

  Julian laughed. “Well, not quite, but almost.”

  “It was scary. She kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, but Julian is unavailable.’” Danny pinched his face up sourly and spoke in a high, whiny voice. “No matter what I asked her—‘Julian is unavailable.’ Even my mom was worried. I almost talked her into a plan where she’d distract your aunt and uncle, and I’d slip into the house and rescue you. But she chickened out.”

  “You should have. I was basically in solitary all weekend,” Julian said with the casualness of a seasoned spy.

  “I tried to warn you! Did you get my message at Robin’s?”

  “Yes,” Julian said, laughing. “‘The tide is rising! The tide is rising!’”

  “OK. You were right about that one. It wasn’t the best thing to have to say in an emergency. I mean, what’s the big deal? The tide is rising? So what? It rises every day! Twice!”

  “I told you it was a stupid code!” Julian said.

  “I’ve been thinking—for next time the code will be ‘It’s about Martinez.’ Isn’t that good? You could slip that into any message. ‘Give me a call. It’s about Martinez.’ Or ‘There’s a meeting tonight—it’s about Martinez.’”


  “Yeah, much better.” The boys looked at each other and burst out laughing. “What are you doing here?” Julian said. “How’d you find me?”

  “Grace Wu told Joey Spitoni. He’s in basketball camp with me.” Danny glanced around at the trash–covered playground in disgust. “What a mess! Hey, there’s Spacey Gracie now!” He turned to the swing set and gave Grace and the other girls a friendly wave, and they put their heads together and whispered, then smiled back.

  Julian waved his hand in front of Danny’s face. “Come on, Danny. Focus! I’ve been dying to talk to you, but my aunt took away my phone.” They walked to the corner of the blacktop, where no one could overhear them, and sat down on a brown bench covered in graffiti. “What happened with Daphne?”

  “It was ugly. Thursday night she calls. She found your old sneakers,” Danny snorted, “and was going to send them to you, but when she calls math camp, they say you never showed up. So she calls me. At first, I say I don’t know where you are. But then everyone’s totally freaking out. They were going to call the police, the FBI. My mom’s crying. She thinks you’ve been abducted. So I had to tell them. I gave them Robin’s name and told them she lived near Willits. My dad was ready to skin me alive. I lost my allowance for the entire summer!”

  “What else did you tell them?”

  “Nothing! They wanted to know who Robin was. I said I thought she was some kind of family friend. I was trying to think what to say, but everyone’s asking me questions, cross–examining me. Your aunt threatened to send me to juvenile hall!”

  “Conspiracy to aid a runaway! Is running away a crime? Is lying a crime?”