Operation Yes (15 page)

The second little green man (or LGM, as Melissa named them) appeared in Miss Candy's butterscotch candies dish. The easy part was placing it there, because Miss Candy was always away from her desk, helping someone find a book. The hard part was photographing it without anyone noticing. Luckily, when the School Commission announced that they couldn't revisit Young Oaks for at least three months because of “prior commitments,” Mrs. Heard had allowed work on the Reading Castle to resume. The loud whirr and click of the camera was lost in the buzz of Miss Candy's rotary saw.

“Maybe you've got a secret Army boyfriend,” Airman Kresge said with a grin when Miss Candy found the soldier. “Maybe I'll have to go beat him up.”

Miss Candy rolled her eyes. She put the LGM front and center on her desk and waited to see what would happen next.

Gari had a harder time with the third LGM, because Trey deployed it in a tree overlooking the playground.

“He's guarding the perimeter,” insisted Trey. Gari made him hoist her up on his back so she could take the picture.

“
Inside
from now on,” she said. She hoped having human supporters would not make a mess of her plans.

In the cafeteria, Mrs. Purdy knew something was up when some of the boys still wanted to sit with the girls, even after she'd removed the tape and told them that if they behaved, they could return to their former seats. She was especially observant on the day when Bo and Gari and Melissa and Trey took turns whispering to the rest of the class huddled around them. If they were talking to one another, then they probably weren't planning another food fight. She was pleased that her seat assignments had worked.

So when Bo came to her and asked to place an army figure to guard the crack in her cash register, she played along. When Gari aimed the camera in her direction, she smiled and patted her curls. But she had a strong feeling that she was not the focus of the picture.

Once the rest of the class was in on the plan, LGM began to appear more rapidly around the school.

Zac left several next to the lost and found box in the school office. Kylie posted hers on top of the
EXIT
sign next to the map in the front hallway. Martina put an LGM in the girls' bathroom, but it was okay because it was actually an LGW. She was on duty over the yellowed porcelain sink, the one with no plug in the drain, which was dangerous because anything, even she, could fall down it.

Allison decided to approach Mr. Nix through her little brother, Tony. She gave him a bag of LGM to take to his class, along
with a fake sixth-grade worksheet on estimating group sizes, on which she'd circled several wrong answers and written: “You should already know this! This is first-grade material!” By the day's end, twenty LGM were lined up in a neat row along the top ledge of Mr. Nix's chalkboard. He added and removed a number of them each morning, to see if his class could tell instantly if there were more or less than the day before.

Day after day, more and more LGM appeared at strategic spots around the school, until they had used every one of the rescued soldiers they had started with. Gari had a stack of developed pictures, and Trey had a map of where each figure was placed, and Melissa had a notebook filled with their plans for the future. Bo had so much energy built up inside him that he ran to school without stopping.

It was time to go public with their plan. But first, they wanted to tell Miss Loupe.

She had noticed the LGM and the new quote they'd left on her desk, of course.

“There are more?” she said. “In the school? Why didn't I notice?”

Melissa started to tell her that she'd worn the same shirt three days in a row this week, so it wasn't surprising that … But, no. Better not to point out that detail.

They didn't reveal all of the plan, not yet. But Trey showed her the map. “Here they are. So far.”

Gari showed her each picture. Miss Loupe studied the one of the LGM in the tree.

Bo cut to the chase. “Will Marc like it?” Miss Loupe had said Marc could talk to her on the phone for a few minutes now. And that he was getting used to his artificial foot. But did he remember Room 208?

Miss Loupe agreed. He would like it.

“Are you sure you want to take on a project this big?” she said. “I mean, I love it, and you're wonderful to help him, but —”

“Trust us,” said Bo. “It's going to be great.”

They brought Melissa's notebook, Trey's drawing, and Gari's developed pictures to Mrs. Heard's office. Bo presented her with an LGM and asked, with his best grin, if she would pose with it beside the rusty bear mascot in front of the school.

“For the paper,” he said. “We want a reporter to come to Young Oaks.”

The principal was astonished at what had been happening right under her nose, but she liked the idea of a reporter coming to the school. After she had her picture taken, she placed the LGM by her phone. It made a satisfying clicking noise when she tapped it against her desk while calling the School Commission.

“Yes. Yes. A reporter
will
be here, looking around. Just letting you know.”

Before the story appeared in the paper, Bo asked his dad if he could ride along in the official car.

“Can I drive?” he said as he hopped in.

“No,” said his dad.

“Can I have some of your coffee?”

“Try it,” said his dad. “You won't like it.”

“Can I tell you about a secret plan?”

“Yes,” said his dad. “Is this briefing classified?”

 

The article in the
Reform Chronicle
was published with this headline:

 

STUDENTS AT YOUNG OAKS PLAN TO DEPLOY 100,000 TROOPS

 

In the article, the reporter admitted to fudging the numbers for the air show attendance.

“You see,” she wrote, “when I described the crowd last month, I used the words ‘up to 30,000,' because that covers everything from one person to thousands. But the students at Young Oaks want to be more precise. They are counting.

“They want to collect and deploy throughout their school exactly 100,000 little plastic army figures — each purchased for a donation of one dollar. When they have reached their goal, they will celebrate by giving the entire amount to the care of wounded soldiers.”

Bo was quoted in the article as saying: “When you see a problem, you can't lie there with your tongue sticking out, playing dead.”

Gari was quoted as saying: “War. There should be a better plan.”

At the end of the article, Melissa was quoted as saying: “Be kind. And take good notes.” The reporter thought that was brilliant, and she admired Melissa's well-organized, nearly full,
color-coded notebook. She also told Gari that digital cameras were much more practical and loaned her one for the project. “This one will take up to two thousand pictures at a time,” she said.

Miss Loupe posted the newspaper story in her classroom. She sent copies to her sister in Japan, to her younger brother at the Air Force Academy, and to her mom and dad.

Please read this to Marc
, she wrote above the headline.

After they read it, her mom and dad taped the article to the wall in Marc's room at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

 

Gari printed out the e-mail her mom had sent and brought it in to the class too.

 

My FOB tour was short but amazing. I got to fly in a helicopter! But more importantly, I learned what happens to my patients as soon as they are brought in from the battlefield, and how they are prepped for the helicopter ride to our hospital. Just like you said happened with your teacher's brother, Marc.

It's different being here than working in home health care, but I'm learning something new every day. I hope you are too.

XOXO from my medical team. They will be sending a donation soon. What the class is planning to do is beautiful.

All the time, Mom

P.S. Don't forget to send that reporter a thank-you note!

 

After the article appeared, Sanjay suggested they invite the whole town to see what they were doing. “We'll make it an open
house!” he said. They didn't tell Miss Loupe, but he and Martina also sent a copy of the paper to her old boyfriend Eric Browne. They circled the real-estate ads for properties that needed renovating in Reform.

 

For the open house, the Base Exchange store placed a special order from the factory for a large shipment of LGM. Mrs. Heard helped the class set up a separate bank account for the donations, and, with her approval, a container of LGM was placed in the front hallway, under the map. Mrs. Heard spent one weekend repainting the coastlines and redrawing the meandering path of the Mississippi River, as well as re-bluing both oceans. She added a special star near Washington, D.C., not just because it was the nation's capital, but because Walter Reed Medical Center was there, and inside the rehabilitation wing, Marc was waging his great battle.

Most of Reform came to Young Oaks on open house night, including the mayor. He purchased fifty LGM and had his picture taken with Room 208 outside the school in front of the yellow-ribboned oaks.

Gari asked him if he was running for reelection.

“You're always running,” he said. “You never stop.”

“Even in a small place like Reform?”

“Especially here.”

Miss Loupe stationed herself in Room 208 and greeted visitors as they came in. She showed them Marc's picture and told them the story of his rescue. She met Colonel Whaley for the first time.

“Bo tells me you used to live on base,” he said.

“Yes, on Colorado Street,” she replied. “My dad was an instructor pilot.”

“And now you're an instructor too,” he said.

He walked around the Ugly, Ugly Couch and looked down at the Taped Space. He read all the posters on the walls. He touched Bo's name on the list of the Ugly Couch Players.

“I see why Bo likes school for the first time in his life,” he said.

After he left, Miss Loupe allowed herself a small smile.

 

For each LGM purchased, Melissa recorded the donation in a separate notebook, and Trey showed the sponsor where on his school diagram it could be placed. Gari insisted on this.

“It can't be random! We're
arranging
them, not playing with them!”

Melissa agreed. She liked the way Gari's plan was emerging, and she liked the shape of the play forming in her notebook. They would take that part of Operation Yes to Miss Loupe soon enough.

Melissa also liked the way she and Gari had started walking around the perimeter of the playground together after lunch.

“Do you think Rick smells good?” she said.

“Sometimes,” said Gari.

“He says he's going to pierce his ear next year.”

“Cool. Very West Coast.”

“Bo's cute too.”

“Ugh,” said Gari.

 

Miss Candy's half-built Reading Castle was a popular spot for the LGM. Airman Kresge used his day off to help her finish more walls. Mrs. Purdy's lunch line was also a favorite location. She washed each LGM before placing it on top of a section of her gleaming, stainless-steel service shelves. Mrs. Heard let her office filing cabinets be covered with as many as would fit. She even purchased the handful that were still in her desk drawer and deployed them along the sills of her tiny windows.

Some of the LGM didn't stay at the school. They traveled around with the persons that had bought them. This was okay, Room 208 agreed, as long as they were returned for the night of the show.

Bo kept at least three men in his pockets, and he was always pulling them out and rearranging them into scenes on his desktop, or beside his lunch tray, or even along the back of the Ugly, Ugly Couch. His mom took one to work with her, in the pocket of her athletic shorts. His dad zipped one, along with his loose change, into his flight suit pocket each day when he got dressed for work.

Melissa had only one, but she kept it clean, scrubbing the small triangle where the bent arm met the fixed leg with an old toothbrush, and rubbing a drop of Vaseline on the helmet to keep it shiny.

Shaunelle's littlest sister kept getting hold of hers, leaving teeth marks in its back, so she hid it behind her books while she was at school.

Trey had six or seven, which took on real faces when he sketched them, with scars and grimaces and bloody wounds. He
drew them in helicopters and in hospital beds. He drew them throwing themselves on top of grenades and standing guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. He drew them without legs and without fear.

Operation Yes seemed to be going well. Young Oaks was behind it, and the town of Reform too. But …

Over the winter break, Miss Loupe drove to Washington, D.C., to see Marc. She brought back a picture of the two of them in Santa hats. Marc had a patch over one eye. In the background, Bo could see the
GET WELL
poster they'd all signed and sent. Dozens of Gari's pictures of LGM covered the wall. Several of the nurses and staff at Walter Reed had sent donations.

“Is he doing better?” asked Gari.

“It's slow,” said Miss Loupe. She tucked the picture of her and Marc next to the framed quote and the little green man guarding it. “We didn't expect his recovery to take this long.”

“Did you see your dad?” asked Bo.

Miss Loupe nodded. “He asked about all of you.”

She stopped reading them the lessons out of the textbook and began to teach them science and math and social studies and language arts with more enthusiasm. But when they asked about the Ugly Couch Players and theater camp next summer, she didn't tell them that she was thinking of not coming back. And she didn't mention that she had done nothing further with her grant proposal. The Taped Space was there, waiting, but Miss Loupe never stepped in.