It's a Green Thing (19 page)

Last night's fund-raiser was a screaming success. I didn't expect there would be so many Nick Stark fans in this town. Apparently I was wrong. And okay, most of the concert attendees were older folks, like forty and up. But according to my dad, that's usually the case. Still, it was pretty cool. When Dad called me onto the stage to join him, I couldn't help but feel proud of him—and proud of my connection with him. Really, it was awesome. And, oh yeah, we made a boatload of money. So not only will we be getting backpacks and school supplies for kids in need but coats and shoes as well. How cool is that?

This morning Dad went to church with me. And to my surprise, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall came up to meet him. Brooke wasn't with them, but still I was speechless. Fortunately, Mr. Marshall initiated the introductions. Then I managed to mutter, “These are Brooke's parents.”

Dad nodded solemnly.

“We wanted to apologize to you personally,” Mr. Marshall said to my dad. “We are terribly sorry for the ordeal that our daughter has put both you and Maya through.”

“Thank you.” My dad nodded politely. But there was a coolness to it.

“And we saw your concert last night,” gushed Mrs. Marshall. “Just wonderful.”

“Thank you again.”

Then Caitlin brought her in-laws over, and fortunately, we were distracted by introductions to the Millers.

“My mother-in-law is a huge fan,” said Caitlin, “and she was dying to meet you.”

“We're both fans,” said Mr. Miller, “and last night was fantastic.”

“Their daughter's band was supposed to play,” I explained, filling him in about the double-booking.

“And don't tell Chloe,” said Mrs. Miller, “but their loss was our gain.”

Finally I managed to extract my dad from the throng of fans. Some old and, after last night, some new. We went and got some lunch, and then I took him on a driving tour of the town.

“It's charming,” he said when we finally ended up at home, where we planned to spend a laid-back afternoon. “It reminds me of an old fifties sitcom, like
Leave It to Beaver.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I think it's fantastic.”

I smiled. “So do I.”

The weather (high seventies with a nice breeze) was perfect for hanging in the backyard. I showed my dad some of the things I was working on in the garden, then we had iced tea, and before long my dad was snoozing in the chaise lounge—totally relaxed.

I slipped back into the house where Uncle Allen and Kim were puttering in the kitchen. “What's up?” I asked.

“We want to fix you guys dinner tonight,” Kim said.

“Is that okay?” my uncle asked. “We thought it would be more relaxing for Nick not to be mobbed by fans.”

And he was right. It was very relaxing. He grilled kabobs, some with meat and some without. We lit the torches and candles once again, and it was perfectly delightful.

I
took my dad back to the airport this morning, and although I was sad to see him go, I felt slightly relieved to get back to my “normal” life. I mean, it was more fun than I expected to have my celebrity dad in town. But I was ready for life to settle back into my comfortable routines, and I was happy to go back to work.

“Welcome back,” Jackie said cheerfully. “You've been missed.”

“You have no idea,” said her daughter, Rosemary.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Did you have to work a lot of extra hours?”

Rosemary laughed. “No, not missed like that.”

“You've been missed by customers,” Jackie said. “It seems you have your own fan base.”

“My own fan base?”

“Yes. So many people saw you on that TV spot and then again at the concert.”

“And then there's your green column in the paper,” Rosemary added, “which I must say is really good.”

“So it seems you're the new celebrity around here.”

I frowned.

“Don't you want to be a celebrity?” asked Rosemary.

“Not really… I just want everything to go back to normal.”

They both laughed.

And as the day progressed, it seemed more and more that normal was slipping between my fingers. Not only were customers treating me differently, but when I checked my phone messages on my lunch break, several were from Suzy Richards at Channel Five News. I figured it was related to the concert and maybe they wanted to do some kind of follow-up, but when I called her, she was up to something completely different.

“I spoke to your uncle today, Maya, about your green column in the paper.”

“You read that?”

“Sure. It's great.”

“Oh.” Still, I was confused.

“And I've been thinking there must be a better way for you to get more people concerned about conservation and recycling and all that stuff.”

“How?”

“TV.”

I wasn't sure how to respond.

“Yes, I know you're not that excited about being the center of attention, Maya. You made that clear when you came in here.”

“That's right.”

“But the problem was that you were so great at it.” She chuckled.

“Yes, but—”

“So your uncle and I were talking, and we both felt that if you really care about recycling and this town, well, you should be willing to sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”

“By doing a green spot on Channel Five News.”

“A green spot?”

“Yes. Your uncle has agreed to share ‘It's a Green Thing’ with our TV station.”

“He has?”

“Well, it was conditional. Naturally, we couldn't do it without you.”

“I'm still not sure.”

“Look, it's simple, Maya. You'd come in here and shoot, say, three spots all at once. And we'd run them on, say, Monday, Wednesday, Friday. You know, like three times a week.”

“Uh-huh?”

“It would probably take only a couple of hours, maybe less since you're such a natural in front of the camera.”

“But I—”

“Okay, before you put up obstacles, I want to point out something.”

“And that is?”

“Well, you really do care about the environment, right?”

“Of course.”

“And as you noticed, our city does not have curbside recycling, right?”

“Yes.”

“What better way to get it than to have all our viewers being informed by you? My guess is that it'll be up and running by fall.”

“Really?”

“The media has a huge influence. I'm sure you know that.”

“But I'm not—”

“Oh yes,” she said quickly, “I should tell you that there's money involved. I know you're working at Jacqueline's, but when school starts, it might be difficult to get in as many hours.” She laughed. “Although with Nick Stark for a dad, I wouldn't think you'd be too desperate for money.”

“I like being independent,” I shot back at her.

“Good girl. Kudos for you.”

“So what kind of money are you talking about?” I asked with a little more interest. After all, I still have my emancipation plan, and the court expects me to prove that I am self-supporting.

“Well, we haven't crunched numbers yet, Maya. But I think it's safe to assure you that you'd make more working for us than at the dress shop. And you'd be spending a lot less time doing it.”

I considered this. With my newspaper column, doing a Channel Five News spot, and maybe just a few hours a week at Jacqueline's, I might be able to convince a judge that I was ready to support myself.

“So will you at least think about it, Maya?”

“Sure. Can I get back to you tomorrow?”

“Sounds great. And something else you might be interested in…”

“What's that?”

“We could set this up with your high school or even the community college as an internship so you'd get credits for it.”

“Really?”

“Sure, we do it all the time.”

“Okay. This is sounding better and better.”

“Terrific. We'd really love to have you on our team, Maya. After you left last week, several people commented on what a natural you were and how easy you were to work with.”

“Well, thanks…”

There's no denying that this was flattering. As I'm writing this, it occurs to me that just one year ago my life was totally miserable. I felt hopeless and scared, and the future seemed bleak. And yet here I am now. I can't help but think God is the one responsible. Which reminds me…I have unfinished business to take care of with Brooke. But I'm just not sure how to go about it. Do I go to her privately? Or would it be better to have her parents there? I don't feel like I can trust Brooke on her own. And her parents went out of their way to apologize to my dad. Unless that was simply their excuse for meeting him. But anyway, I think I'll try to arrange something. Maybe on my day off. On Thursday.

But on Thursday, today, I found myself at Channel Five News again. This time I was taping my “It's a Green Thing” spot. As soon as I agreed to do this (yesterday), Suzy put together a contract and arranged the first taping. They will be scheduled on my days off until fall.

The taping ended up taking longer than we expected, almost four hours. We were all just trying to figure it out, and everyone had a different opinion. Suzy assured me that once we get this down, it won't be such an ordeal.

“And maybe we can film her at home,” suggested Ron, the camera guy. “You know, doing some of the things she talks about.”

“That's a great idea,” agreed Suzy. So next week we'll be “on location” at the Peterson residence.

“But let me check with my uncle first,” I said.

“I can do that for you,” Suzy said, nodding to her assistant. “We'll need him to sign a waiver anyway.”

It was nearly three when I finished, and I went out to the parking lot and looked up at the hill. I've tried to call the Marshalls' home several times, but I always get their machine. I keep imagining Brooke up there looking at her caller ID and deciding not to answer since she probably doesn't want to talk to me. So I decided just to drive on up and see if I could catch her at home. Maybe doing gymnastic flips into her pool. But when I got there, a young woman answered the door.

“Is Brooke here?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

“No.” The girl studied me, then her eyes lit up. “Hey, are you the green girl in the newspaper?”

I forced a smile. “Yes.”

“Cool.” She nodded. “Very cool.”

“So do you know when she'll be back?”

“I'm the house sitter. The Marshalls are on vacation for, like, about ten more days, I think. Up in Canada visiting the grandparents.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” I said, actually feeling relieved. “That's okay.”

But my relief faded as I realized this meant ten more days of putting up bricks between God and me. Then I thought,
No way!
I needed to resolve this sooner. So I called Caitlin and poured out my story.

“Oh, poor Maya. I didn't realize you were still dealing with that.”

“Well, we've missed a few Saturdays.”

“You can forgive Brooke without being face to face.”

“Really? For some reason I thought it had to be in person.”

“No, not at all, although that's often best. But sometimes it's impossible, for instance if the person who offended you has passed on or lives in another country.”

“Or is incarcerated.”

“Yes.”

“So what do I do?”

“You just come before God, and you honestly tell Him that you want to forgive her.”

“That's all?”

“Well, it's different for everyone. But that's pretty much it. It's mostly just a change of heart, Maya. Like one day you're angry and bitter at someone, and then you hand it over to God, and you're not.”

“Just like that?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Okay…” So I thanked her, then drove to a nearby park and walked over and sat on a bench beneath a big tree. I tried to imagine Brooke, and I told God that I've had some pretty bad feelings and thoughts toward her. I confessed that sometimes I've hated her. Finally I told Him that I was tired of being angry at her. I said that I wanted to let it go, and I asked Him to help me. And just like that, it's like this load was lifted. I mean, it was so easy I wasn't even sure if it was for real. But as quickly as the load lifted, that old deep sense of peace came back, so I was certain it was God. And then it's like I saw that whole wall come tumbling down. Nothing stood between God and me.