Dodger for Sale (12 page)

“This little fellow is unique, unmatched, alone in the world. He also has a distinctive cry and an incredible story.” That was Dodger’s cue.

“Du-u-ude!” he croaked. “Du-u-ude!”

Rodger said, “The Large-Mouthed Blue Frog is a faithful and loving creature. Because the species is so rare, the male will spend years and years hopping through the swamps, eating harmful and annoying insects and singing out with his mating call: Du-u-ude! Du-u-ude! He will carry on like this forever, or at least until he finds a female Large-Mouthed Blue Frog to be his lifelong companion, his love, his queen. Will you allow him to dream his patient dream of love and happiness, or will you chop down his home?”

The crowd was absolutely speechless. In the silence that followed, the mayor said, “Why don’t we take a short recess break, and then come back to vote?” The lights came up around the room, and people started shuffling chairs around, going out of the room for drinks, and chatting with their neighbors.

Except for the kids. They all came rushing forward to play with Dodger. “Du-u-ude! Du-u-ude!” he cried happily. Dodger always loves attention.

Meanwhile, Lizzie called the mayor over. He frowned but made his way across the front of the room to us. Mrs. Starsky must have sensed trouble brewing, because she came scurrying in our direction as well. “Sir,” Lizzie said to the mayor, “I would like to ask you to abstain from voting.”

“Abstain? Why in the world would I abstain, little girl?”

“Well, it’s just that … I don’t think you can possibly be a fair judge in this issue.”

He put on his big, fake smile and said, “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. I love the environment as much as anybody, and—”

“No, you don’t!” Lizzie said under her breath. It was time for the fireworks to start.

“Excuse me, young lady. Did you just interrupt me? And did you dare to stand here and claim that I do not love the environment?”

Lizzie stood her ground. “I did. Because you don’t!”

“That’s a lie!” the mayor growled.

“Really?” Lizzie asked. Then she turned off the projector screen, faced the screen of the computer in the mayor’s direction, opened up the video from his visit to our school, and pressed
PLAY
. Boy, the mayor didn’t look very attractive when he was ranting and raving in close-up: “I came here because you wanted to save the forest and preserve the environment. Well, you know what? Nobody elected me to protect a bunch of trees! I couldn’t care less about the environment! If it would help the most prominent citizens of this town to make money, I’d go out there and chop down those stupid trees myself!”

Jeepers. The mayor leaned toward Lizzie and hissed, “This is blackmail, and I won’t stand for it! Give me that computer!”

“Not so fast,” Mrs. Starsky said, stepping between the mayor and Lizzie. “That computer and everything on it is school property. And if Lizzie wants to, I think she could show that clip to the whole audience after the break. After all, you said it on public property, in a public meeting. Surely you aren’t trying to say that showing these words to the public would be blackmail?”

The mayor stormed away, but when the meeting started again, he excused himself from voting. There was only one other thing to say before the vote was cast, and it was my job to say it. “Excuse me,” I said, “I have a proposal that I think the council should hear before voting.” I had come up with this part all by myself after reading my father’s Step Eight: Make a Win-Win Plan. At first, I hadn’t been sure exactly what making a win-win plan was, but then I had realized it was exactly what I had done when I’d negotiated with my mom for the right to go downtown to Lasorda’s office. And again when we had worked together with the leprechauns. How cool was that? I was learning how to get what I wanted, and make other people happy, too!

Anyway, I took a deep breath and began.

“I have thought really hard about this, and I believe there might be a way to make everybody happy. The seller of the land, Mr. Lasorda, wants money to pay off his debts. The buyer, Mr. Beeks, wants a place to open up his funplex, which sounds like an excellent project. The town wants jobs for its citizens. And the student council wants to preserve the forest lands for our future. Am I correct?”

I looked up from my paper and saw nods all around. Of course, my win-win plan went even further. I had an idea for how the Great Lasorda and Dodger could work things out with each other and the leprechauns, too, but I wasn’t about to announce that part at a town council meeting. First I had to save the forest.

“Now, it has come to my attention that the town owns a whole square block of abandoned storefront real estate right on Main Street. What I propose is this: Why can’t Mr. Beeks pay Mr. Lasorda for the forest, but then swap pieces of land with the town and build his project in the downtown location? That will be great for business AND great for the environment. Mr. Lasorda will get paid, Mr. Beeks will get a place to build his businesses, the town will get a newer, better Main Street, and the forest will be saved for the Large-Mouthed Blue Frog. What do you think?”

The entire room erupted in muttering. I heard shouts from all over the room:

“Outrageous!”

“Who does this kid think he is?”

“Excellent! I think this boy should be our next mayor!”

“Up with frogs!”

Right in front of me, I saw James Beeks say to his father, “Dad, I hate to say it, but I think Willie’s idea is really good!”

Then Mr. Beeks whispered back, “You don’t understand—Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son never backs down. And we never lose!”

James replied, “It isn’t losing if everybody winds up happy. It’s just good business.” Mr. Beeks looked stunned for a moment, but then—slowly, slowly—he smiled at his son.

When the noise died down, the president of the town council asked Mr. Beeks if he would be satisfied with the new arrangement. I held my breath, but after a moment, Mr. Beeks nodded. The members of the council whispered to each other frantically for a while, but then announced that they would now vote on my proposal.

I never would have believed it before, but politics can be kind of exciting.

L
ET ME TELL YOU
how things turned out. The vote passed. The leprechauns turned Dodger back into himself, so Lizzie didn’t even have to kiss him to break the frog spell. Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son traded the forest to the town in exchange for the square block of valuable downtown real estate. The town promised to leave the forest undeveloped forever, and named the area the Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son Blue Frog Preserve. The Great Lasorda got to keep the money he got for selling the forest. The leprechauns got a free, safe place to live. The student council got a huge blue plaque from the mayor and the town council. Mrs. Starsky was really, really proud. I have a feeling she didn’t erase the webcam recording, though—just in case.

And that’s not all. Amy got to keep her title as Queen of the Leprechauns. That might not seem like much, but it comes with some cool benefits. Here’s the best one: Every once in a while, when Amy runs a little short on cash, she leaves a pair of shoes under her bed. And I’m not going to tell you that the leprechauns fill her shoes with fairy gold or anything—that would just be too crazy. But all I know is that I have the only little sister in town who can afford her own state-of-the-art detective lab. Plus some pocket money for ice cream.

The Great Lasorda is doing all right, too. He argued and complained a lot about having to share his forest with the leprechauns for all eternity, but really, I think that ever since everybody stopped arguing about who owes what, he and his new partners, Rodger and Dodger, enjoy the company.

Speaking of company, one day in early spring, I was walking home alone through the forest, and suddenly found that James Beeks was walking along next to me. “You know,” he said, “I guess you and Lizzie were right: The woods are kind of cool after all.” There was a red-and-white fast-food bag blocking the path in front of us, and Beeks started to step around it. Then he looked at me sheepishly, bent over, and picked up the bag. “Still,” he said, “having my own private place to practice baseball would have been awesome.”

That was when I got a crazy idea. It was nutty to even think about, because Beeks and I had always been enemies. But on the other hand, he had kind of helped us to save the forest. And he had admitted Lizzie and I were right about something. And he had even picked up trash in the woods without being ordered to. Before I could think twice, I said, “You know, James, I know a field where we can practice baseball all we want.”

He looked at me like I had suddenly grown a pair of bug antennae from my head. “You mean, together?”

I nodded.

“Really?”

I nodded again.

He thought this over and said, “Is the field any good?”

I didn’t reply, because I didn’t have to. I just turned down the little side path that led to the Field of Dreams. James might have muttered a little under his breath, but he followed me. When we broke out of the trees and into the clearing, he looked around in awe. “How—” he started to ask.

“It’s a really long story, James.”

Beeks rubbed his eyes, looked around again, and said, “And this is really all yours?”

“And yours, whenever you need a place to work out. I mean, if you want to. We could get ready for the season together.”

“I guess I can give it a try,” James said. “But, um, does this mean we’re, like, friends?”

“Believe me,” I said, “stranger things have been known to happen.” With that, I walked over to the equipment locker behind the backstop and threw him a glove. He caught it and smiled.

Lizzie and I are still best friends, of course. She’s trying to convince me to run for president of the sixth grade when we get to middle school. I tell her we’ll see what happens. But she knows as well as I do that I’ll probably give in.

My dad is still waiting for my book notes about the quest to save the forest. I told him I’m still polishing them up, but that I’ll let him know when they’re ready for the world to read them.

Yeah, right.

In the meantime, if you aren’t sure you believe me about all of this, you can come visit the Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son Blue Frog Preserve. If you’re brave enough, and your heart is pure enough, you can start picking up any pieces of litter you see there. Then, if you listen very, very carefully, you might just be lucky enough to hear the strange sound of the blue frog calling out to his missing queen:
Du-u-ude! Du-u-ude!

Or maybe that’s just Dodger playing baseball.