Operation Redwood

by S. Terrell French

  “A terrible sin,” Danny said with a Mafia accent, “but not a crime.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Daphne obviously found you!”

  “Yeah. One minute, I’m trying to explain to Robin why you’re talking about the stupid tide rising, the next thing the sheriff’s there, then Daphne’s driving up.”

  “The sheriff?”

  “Daphne told them Bob kidnapped me. Bob is Robin’s dad. Luckily, the sheriff was a friend of his.” Julian tried to shut out the image of Bob’s angry face. “So nobody knows about Big Tree Grove or anything? Or the e–mails?”

  “No, I didn’t tell them anything about that. What about you? They must have given you a major grilling.”

  “You know Daphne,” Julian said. “She was too busy ranting and raving to ask questions. But then my uncle started asking me who Robin was and why I went up there.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing. What could I say?”

  “You just sat there and said nothing?” Danny gave him a look of admiration. “Wasn’t he mad?”

  “He was beyond mad. That’s why they kept me in solitary all weekend. Now I’m seriously grounded.”

  “For how long?”

  “For life, I guess. Or until my mom gets back. They’re trying to get hold of her.” Julian had been trying to avoid thinking about how his mom would react to having to come back early from China, and he continued quickly, “Daphne read me the riot act! No friends allowed! I think she means you.”

  “What?” Danny said, with a wounded expression. “She doesn’t like me? Now my feelings are hurt.” He put his hand on his heart and sobbed dramatically.

  Danny wanted to hear every detail about Huckleberry Ranch. Julian told him all about the tree house and everything Robin had said about Operation Redwood.

  “A tree house! And a covert operation!” Danny said admiringly. “You guys are good.”

  “But it’s not going to happen,” Julian said. “Even if my mom comes back, Robin’s dad will never let us come now.” He felt his spirits sinking. “Do you know that it’s not illegal to cut down redwood trees?”

  Danny frowned. “Sure. I knew that. If it was illegal, how could your uncle get away with it so easily?”

  “All right then, who’s Julia Butterfly Hill?”

  “Uh, I dunno,” Danny said in an Elmer Fudd voice. “A wabbit?”

  “Wrong. She was a woman who lived in a redwood tree for two years so that the loggers wouldn’t cut it down. Here’s another one. You can cut down trees in a national forest. True or false?”

  “Oh, come on, Julian, school’s over!”

  “This is the last one, I promise. True or false?”

  “False?”

  “Wrong again!” said Julian. “It’s true. You can cut down redwoods. You can cut down trees in the national forest. Did they ever teach us that in school?”

  “Nothing like that. They never teach us anything that really matters. Why?” He fell to his knees and raised his hands to the sky. “Why? Why does nobody care that we are so terribly mis–informed?” Grace Wu and her friends looked over, giggling, but Danny just shouted louder. “Why do they leave us to wallow in our ignorance? The laws of our country don’t protect us! They’re cutting down all our trees and soon there won’t be any oxygen left and we’re all gonna die!” Then he jumped straight up from his knees to his feet, like a hip–hop dancer.

  He sauntered past the smirking girls. “Who are you staring at?” Danny said, and grinned.

  The next afternoon, Danny brought an e–mail from Robin. In the middle of the empty blacktop, Huckleberry Ranch suddenly came alive again. Before, Robin had been an imaginary girl living in an imaginary house near an imaginary forest. Now, Julian could hear the words in her breathless, slightly superior voice:

  “OK, so what do you want me to say back?” Danny asked, peering over his shoulder.

  Julian hesitated. Suddenly, he felt awkward having Danny write back to Robin. After all, they’d never even met.

  “I don’t know,” Julian said. “Maybe I should write her back myself. Maybe I could get my own e–mail account and write her during ‘free time.’”

  Danny looked at him hard. “You’re cutting me out of the loop?”

  “No!” Julian felt his face grow warm. “I just thought it might give me something to do. And it might be more convenient that way, you know?”

  “This is what I know,” Danny said, with a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m the one who came up with the Plan. I helped you figure out the whole thing. If it weren’t for me, you would never have met Robin Elder! When your aunt was raving like a maniac and threatening to take me to the police, I covered for you and I got in big trouble. And I came all the way here to give you this stupid e–mail and now you’re trying to cut me out of the loop.”

  He gave Julian a look of contempt, then turned and walked out of the playground.

  Julian stood under the gray sky, shaken. For a few moments, he’d thought Danny might be kidding, just playing the part of the Angry Friend. But by the time Danny reached the end of his speech, Julian realized he was serious. He had seen Danny get angry at other boys at school or even yell at total strangers, but the two of them never fought. Luciana would say in amazement, “You boys are such good friends. Always playing, never fighting. I wish I had a friend like that!”

  He hadn’t been trying to cut Danny out, exactly. He wanted Danny to be part of Operation Redwood, but at the same time, part of him wanted to keep Huckleberry Ranch just for himself. He and Danny had been best friends since kindergarten and they’d shared everything—the same soccer teams, the same friends, the same teachers. Huckleberry Ranch was the only good thing he’d ever had all to himself.

  If he went back with Danny, everything would be different. Danny could be so charming; maybe they’d like Danny better than him. Or worse, maybe they wouldn’t like Danny. And Julian couldn’t really picture Danny sitting quietly inside the circle of redwood trees.

  His orange baseball cap was almost at the end of the block. Julian raced across the blacktop and past the gate and called Danny’s name as loud as he could. The Quantum counselor blew his whistle angrily and Julian stepped back inside the gate and called out again. Finally, Danny turned around and sauntered slowly back toward him.

  “What?” he said scornfully. “Do you need help setting up your e–mail account?”

  “Come on, Danny. Don’t be like that. Write Robin back. Please.”

  “She’s your girlfriend. You can write her back in the privacy of your own home. Or wherever.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend, you idiot. Come on. I didn’t mean anything. I can’t open my own account anyway. Daphne would probably pay someone to hack into it.”

  He could tell Danny was relenting. “If I’m in, I’m in,” Danny said. “I don’t want you e–mailing behind my back. Writing little love notes.”

  “You’re in. Come on! You’re my best friend. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even have gone up there. Write her back. Tell her I have to wait until my mom gets home. Then maybe we can figure out Operation Redwood.”

  “Since you’re groveling, and since you’re stuck with the Evil Ones,” Danny said grudgingly, “I will take pity on you and oblige.”

  Danny returned the next day with a print–out of his e–mail.

  hat night, Julian was informed that Sibley would be home for dinner and therefore he would not be eating in his room. Julian arrived at the table promptly at seven o’clock and silently surveyed the spread: creamed spinach, veal chops, quivering salmon mousse, and dinner rolls. Sibley gave him a sour nod, then ate stolidly while Daphne grilled Preston about his day. Every few minutes, she stopped to direct a pointed question at Julian, then stared in mock expectation as he gazed miserably down at his plate.

  Julian had already eaten four dinner rolls without attracting Daphne’s attention, and he didn’t dare try for a fifth. He forced himself to eat a few more bites of spinach and was about to cl
ear his plate when Sibley pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and, with elaborate care, unfolded it onto the polished mahogany table.

  “Well, you’ll never guess who I finally heard from today,” he said.

  “Cari! Am I right?” Daphne said immediately.

  Sibley simply raised his pale eyebrows. “And you’ll never guess what she said.”

  “Let me guess! She’s not coming home!”

  “Apparently, she’s extremely immersed in her work in China.” Sibley was now speaking in a tone of such exquisite sarcasm he sounded almost sincere. “She simply can’t get away.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud!” Daphne said. “Didn’t you tell her about Julian?”

  “I told her it was impossible for Julian to extend his stay with us. She’s trying to find somebody else. She asked us to keep him here for now.”

  “For now? How long is ‘now’?”

  Sibley gave a disparaging smile. “Undetermined.”

  “This is the last straw!” Daphne turned to look at Julian. “How can he stay here? He won’t even talk to us!”

  “Really, Julian,” Sibley added. “I think it would be in your best interest to speak up now.”

  Julian stared mutely at the candles. He knew how his mom was when she was absorbed in something new. Nothing else could get her attention. Not her meals. Not her friends. Not anything. Still, it hadn’t occurred to him that he would be stuck with Sibley indefinitely. It hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t come home.

  He had thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Now he realized he’d been wrong. With a sigh, he stood up and grabbed another dinner roll. Then he picked up his plate, stuffed the roll in his mouth, grabbed his glass and silverware, and walked away from the table.

  At Quantum, the counselors had given up even the pretense of entertaining Julian. He sat in the corner, reading old copies of National Geographic, while the other kids made bead necklaces. After lunch, he threw seventy–two free throws before Danny wheeled onto the blacktop on his bike.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “My cousins are here. I can only stay a minute because I’m supposed to babysit, but I wanted to give you this.” He leaned his bike against the basketball pole, unzipped his backpack, and thrust a crumpled paper into Julian’s hand:

  Dear Julian and Danny,

  My dad showed me this article! Yikes!

  Below it was an article from the San Francisco Chronicle: RECORD EARNINGS PUT SPOTLIGHT ON LOCAL INVESTMENT FIRMS. It was the kind of dull article that Julian never looked at twice, the type that ran in the Business section. But toward the end, he found the paragraph that had caught Bob’s eye:

  Among the leaders in profits last quarter was the San Francisco firm IPX Investment Corporation. Led by CEO Sibley Carter, who stepped up to the helm last September, the firm has pursued a strategy of aggressive diversification. “We have our fingers in a lot of pies,” Mr. Carter said. “We’re always looking for investments on the cutting edge, where the market may be lagging.” He said he expects investments in a number of new arenas, from timber to biotechnology, to reap significant gains by next fall.

  “‘Next fall,’ Julian!” Danny said. “It’ll all be over by this summer!”

  Julian lifted his eyes from the article and looked around the yard. There was the counselor, blowing his whistle, the girls swinging from the monkey bars, a couple of kids playing dodgeball. And in Julian’s hand were these dry statements about investments and profits. Nothing in his world or in the article seemed connected with Big Tree Grove. Nothing was sending an alarm that a rare and beautiful place was about to be destroyed.

  “Operation Redwood!” Danny said.

  Julian shook his head.

  “We’ve got to do it soon,” Danny said. “As soon as your mom gets back. She might even help, you know? Take pictures of the redwoods or something.”

  “My mom’s not coming back,” Julian said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She can’t come home. She’s too busy.” He put the paper in his pocket, picked up the basketball, and threw a perfect three–pointer.

  “She’s making you stay with the Evil Ones?” Danny said incredulously. “That’s brutal.”

  “She’s trying to find somebody else.”

  “Who?”

  Julian shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You could stay with me! I’ll ask my parents.”

  “Come on! They’re not going to let me stay there for a month.” Julian threw another three–pointer and watched unsmilingly as it whooshed through the rim. “Plus, you’ve got that journalism camp.”

  “I’ll beg them!” Danny said. The ball bounced toward him and he stilled it with one foot.

  “Even if I could stay with you, we’re never going to get to Robin’s,” Julian said. “Her dad hates me now. He’s never going to let me come back.”

  “He doesn’t hate me,” Danny said. “Maybe I’ll go to Robin’s this time and you can stay home and be the logistical support.”

  Julian opened his mouth in protest, but Danny punched him in the shoulder. “Just kidding! You’re so gullible!” He looked at his watch. “Aaa!” he cried. “I’m late! I gotta go. Once my cousins set our house on fire. They’re total pyromaniacs!” He threw the basketball to Julian and climbed onto his bike. “See you tomorrow!”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Julian said gloomily.

  “Oh, sorry.” Danny said. “I guess you’re stuck with the Dastardly Duo.” He gave Julian a look of sympathy. “I’ll see you next week. Have a nice Fourth of July.”

  Julian nodded halfheartedly.

  “Adios!” Danny cried, wheeling away. “Good luck!”

  Back at Sibley’s that evening, Julian just lay on his bed, staring despondently at the empty walls. His mom wasn’t coming home. She was halfway around the world, having all sorts of fun without him. She didn’t care that he was stuck at his uncle’s. Or imprisoned at Quantum. She probably didn’t even know what a jerk his uncle really was.

  Julian pulled his pillow over his head and breathed his own warm breath. All these silent evenings were getting to him, he thought from inside his black cave. His favorite teacher, Ms. Felicity, had told them that when they were upset, they should try to remember a place where they were happy. Julian tried to imagine himself sitting in the circle of trees at Big Tree Grove. But that just made him feel worse. He was never going to get back to Huckleberry Ranch. Even if he could get away from his uncle, Bob would never forgive him for lying to him. He’d probably never see Robin or her mom again.

  Maybe Robin would find a way to save Big Tree on her own. Or was it too late already? He could picture Robin hiding in the forest, watching the giant redwoods crashing down before her eyes.

  When he heard a muffled knock on the door, Julian didn’t even have the energy to lift the pillow from his head. He wondered dimly if he was getting enough oxygen.

  “Hey, Julian.” Preston’s voice pierced through the haze. “Are you sleeping?”

  “No,” Julian said, blinking in the light. “You better get out of here. You’re going to get in trouble.”

  Preston closed the door. “What’s the matter?” he said. “Are you sick?”

  Julian pulled himself up on his elbow. “I’m OK. I’m just . . . I don’t know. A little down.”

  “How come?” Preston’s blue eyes were wide beneath the arcs of his pale eyebrows.

  Julian had to concentrate to remember what had triggered his cloud of gloom. “Well, you know your redwood project?” he finally began. “I have some friends who have some redwoods. Not their own, but nearby. And somebody’s going to cut them down. And my friends don’t know how to stop them.” Julian knew he was being stupid, talking about Big Tree like this to Preston, but he was too worn out to stop himself.

  Preston nodded. “They don’t have a million dollars,” he said with a knowing air.

  Julian couldn’t help laughing. “That’s right. They don’t have
a million dollars, and neither do I.”

  “Some people do, though,” Preston said. “Some people are really rich.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t tell your parents about this,” Julian said quickly. “It’s kind of a secret.”

  Preston looked surprised. “Oh, not them,” he said. “They’re not rich. . .” but his voice was cut short when the door swung open.

  Daphne stood glaring at them, her arms crossed. “Preston, go to your room,” she said in her frostiest tone. “Julian. Come downstairs. There’s someone to see you.”

  ulian headed down the stairs uncertainly. Who would be visiting him? Daphne’s cool tone gave him no clue. Maybe it was the police. Maybe they could send him to juvenile hall for running away. Or maybe his mom had found someone for him to live with. Maybe his old neighbor, Mrs. Petrova, had had enough of Florida and had come back to San Francisco.

  But as Julian approached the front door he saw, not the police or Mrs. Petrova, but a small woman, dressed in black, with a purple scarf wrapped around her shoulders. The bright color of the scarf, together with her spiky black–and–white hair, made her look like an exotic little bird.

  “Popo!” Julian cried in surprise.

  “Julian!” Popo said. She embraced him awkwardly, then looked him up and down through her little round glasses. “Look how tall you are now!”

  Either his grandmother had shrunk, or he’d grown over the past several months. They were nearly eye to eye.

  “I’ve spoken with your mother in Beijing,” Popo said in a neutral tone. “It seems she can’t get away right now. So, the most sensible solution was for me to come stay with you for a while.” She said this lightly, as though she were always dropping by unexpectedly. “I need a little vacation anyway. I just got back from a trip to Washington. Very tight deadline.”

  She studied Julian for a long moment before turning to Daphne with a polite smile. “Thank you for watching my grandson. It was very generous of you and your husband.”

  Daphne crossed her arms with a petulant frown. “Julian is not free to come and go as he pleases right now,” she said. “His behavior has been completely unacceptable. We’re still waiting for an apology.”