The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love (9 page)

But neither of these scenarios happened. Somehow, when Cody stood up at the end of the meeting, Maya and Sicilee were left looking at each other across the space where he’d been. Sicilee tossed her hair and shrank her smile so small that she seemed about to spit. Maya stared back unblinkingly. If looks were curses, Maya would have been turned into a toad and Sicilee would have vanished completely, and probably for ever.

By the time they picked up their things and stood up themselves, Cody was walking out of the room with Ms Kimodo.

And so, against all the odds, Maya Baraberra and Sicilee Kewe ended up leaving the school side-by-side.

“You know, you really are incredible,” Maya says as they cross the main hall. She puts on an exaggerated, shrill and girly voice. “
Ooh, I’ve been doing the Green thing for, like,
ever
now … the bottles … the light bulbs … the whole vegan scene!
”

“Oh, listen who’s talking!” Sicilee fumes. “You made it sound like you and Cody were virtual twins.”

Maya’s laugh will later be described by Sicilee as sounding like the squeal of a panicked pig. “At least everything I said was true!”

Naturally, Sicilee had been prepared to embroider the truth a little – to claim she turned off lights and things like that – but how could she with Maya standing there looking like the cat that had swallowed every pigeon in the park? She had no choice. What was she supposed to say? That her mother gives her old clothes to the church thrift store and, every time he gets the electric bill, her father stomps around the house turning off lights? She had to lie. Boldly. Baldly. The worst thing was that once she got started, she couldn’t seem to stop. By the time she was done, she’d altered the truth so much that it wouldn’t have been able to recognize itself.

Sicilee yanks open one side of the glass doors. “Are you saying that you don’t believe me?” she asks as she sails through.

“Oh, heavens to Betsy! I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” Right behind her, Maya catches the closing door with her hip, her expression sour as she pushes through. “I am
so
sure you’re Greener than grass.” She leans her mouth close to Sicilee’s ear. “Like
not
!” If the planet thought it had to count on Sicilee to save it, it would shoot itself now. “If there was one word of truth in anything you said, it was the word ‘I’.”

“That just shows how much you know.” Sicilee strides on, hair swinging, heels clicking against the pavement. “It just so happens that
I
am not a liar, Baraberra. I leave that kind of thing to people like you.”

Maya’s laugh pops like a blister. “Oh, please. Spare me the self-righteous crap. I bet you don’t even know what a vegan is.”

“Of course I do.” Sicilee doesn’t. She thinks that vegan is short for vegetarian. She slows down so that Maya can catch up with her and see the scornful edge to her smile. “Just because I don’t go around drooling cool the way you do, Baraberra – shaking your stupid badges in everybody’s face and thinking you’re so great because you wear somebody else’s old clothes – doesn’t mean that I don’t know what’s going on in the big picture. I know what’s going on.”

Maya sneers.
Yeah, sure you do.
“Sicilee,” says Maya with exaggerated sweetness, “we’re alone now – you don’t have to pretend. You don’t have a clue what’s going on in ‘the big picture’.
Gott im Himmel
, you think
you’re
the big picture. If you can’t wear it, drive it, watch it, listen to it, or eat it, it doesn’t exist.”

“What? Unlike you, Miss Sacrifice-and-self-denial? Like you’ve dedicated your life to protecting chipmunks and drawing on the walls of the cave you live in?” Sicilee’s laughter splutters like machine-gun fire. “You are such a total phoney. You know, you don’t look like you’re doing without much to me. Your parents have two cars, just like everybody else. And you have all the stuff everybody else has.” Sicilee’s smile shrinks contemptuously. “Your cell phone does everything but fly.”

They aren’t walking any more. They’ve stopped a little way down the drive, where they are squaring off like boxers.

“Sicilee,” says Maya, “the point isn’t whether or not I and ten billion other people have a cell phone. The point is that besides everything else you aren’t – you know, like human –
you
are so definitely not the animal-rights type.”

“And when did I say I was?” Sicilee has seen animal-rights types on the news. They’re usually screaming, wearing balaclavas and throwing paint on people wearing totally gorgeous mink coats. “Those people are nothing but terrorists.”

“Oh, spare me.” Maya purses her lips in that smug and irksome way she has. “To an animal,
you’re
the one who’s the terrorist, with your fur coat and those boots you wear that make you look like you’ve got dogs wrapped around your feet. Which is why you can’t be a vegan. Vegans
are
animal-rights types, Barbie-brain.”

“I know about fur and everything.” Sicilee’s smile shines like highly polished steel. “But for your information, I only just started being a vegan. I can’t completely change my whole wardrobe overnight.”

“I know you just started being a vegan.” Maya grins. “About forty-five minutes ago.”

“Oh, right. At about the same time that you started riding a bike everywhere.” Sicilee’s arm sweeps across the empty bike rack outside the library. “Just where
is
your bike, Your Greenness? Or is its invisibility part of it being environmentally friendly?”

“It has a flat. You probably don’t know this, but you can’t ride a bike with a flat tyre.” Maya starts walking again. “And anyway, I’m a hell of a lot Greener than you’ll ever be.
Gott im Himmel
, you are like a walking advertisement for the consumer society. You won’t last an hour being Green.” Maya looks over with a serene smile. “You won’t even last ten minutes.”

“Oh, really?” sneers Sicilee.

“Yeah, really,” says Maya. “You’re about as Green as strip mining. You probably leave the lights on when you’re sleeping, so you’ll be able to see yourself in the mirror if you wake up during the night.”

“And I suppose you’re Greener than a tree, Madame I-ride-my-bike-in-blizzards!” The many people who know only Sicilee’s dazzling smile would be surprised at how good she is at contorting her mouth into an expression of revulsion and disgust. “You are so false, Baraberra. I bet you’ve never even been on a bike.”

“Well, you lose, Kewe. Because not only have I been on a bike about a trillion times, but as soon as I get the flat fixed, you’ll be seeing me on it every day.”

Neither of these statements is much truer than Sicilee’s claim to be a concerned environmentalist and vegan. The truth is that Maya has been on a bicycle only a dozen times, the last being over four years ago when she skidded on something in the road, ran into a hedge and decided it was easier to get rides from her mother than risk her life.

“And you’ll be seeing me eating nothing but vegetables,” counters Sicilee (who has never thought of vegetables as more than a garnish).

“Sure I will.” Maya takes a step towards Sicilee. An innocent bystander might wonder if she’s planning to hug Sicilee or give her a shove, but all she does is smile – albeit in a slightly spine-chilling way. “You may think everybody’s got the wool pulled over their eyes, you know? So let me be the one to tell you that they don’t. It is pathetically obvious that you only came today because you have the hots for Cody Lightfoot.”

“And that isn’t why you came?” Sicilee smiles back. “You are such a scammer, Baraberra. You are so transparent I could watch TV through you.”

“At least I have real Green credentials,” snaps Maya. “Unlike some people I could mention.”

“Oh, please.” Sicilee’s hair swings, scythe-like, with scorn. “You may be able to convince some people that you showed up because you can’t sleep for worrying about the whales, but not everyone’s that gullible, Baraberra. Sweet Mary! If you’d sat any closer to Cody at the meeting, you would’ve been on
my
lap.”

“You don’t stand a chance with him.” Maya’s voice is so reasonable and calm you’d think she’d started talking about something else entirely (socks, perhaps, or how to bake a potato). “Cody’s not one of your preppy puppets who’s only interested in what a girl looks like.”

“Oh, really?” Sicilee makes a face. “Then you’d better hope he’s not interested in brains or character either, because those are two more qualities
you
don’t have.”

Maya pretends to laugh. “But the joke’s going to be on you, you know. Because I’m going to win.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sicilee’s smile stretches so that it almost seems to wrap itself around her head. “I wouldn’t get his name tattooed on my butt just yet, if I were you.”

Chapter Eighteen
The times are a-changin’ – whether Clemens likes it or not

Waneeda
may have scoffed at Joy Marie’s belief that the Clifton Springs High School Environmental Club could still be saved, but Waneeda, it seems, was wrong. Something was ventured and something was gained. It was very, very dark, but now here’s the dawn – all bright and golden and full of promise. In the space of just one afternoon, Cody Lightfoot has turned everything around. Room III buzzed with energy the way wild meadows once buzzed with bees. The geeky, whining image of the club vanished in knowing laughter. From now on, they’re going to have fun. From now on, instead of laying guilt trips on their fellow students, they’re going to show them the way. As Cody put it with that smile that causes everyone to smile back, “Make them aware and they will care.”

Cody believes that they can inform people of the problems facing the planet and let them know what can be done about them in a laid-back, entertaining way. No pain, but plenty of gain. Cody Lightfoot is the sunny, hope-filled day to Clemens Reis’ moonless, gloomy night. Where Clemens has been known to bray about “Kamikaze Consumers” and the “Shopocalypse” to come, Cody talks mildly about “The Not Yet Awares” and what a big difference it would make if everyone bought a little less now and then. If Cody and Clemens were policemen and not teenage boys, Cody would be the nice, easy-going cop who asks you if you want a coffee, and Clemens would be the one who slams his fist down on the desk and tells you that you’ll never see daylight again.

“We have to get the communal qui flowing here,” said Cody. “Involve people. Make them feel like they’re really doing something. Let them know that we’re all in this together.”

To do this, this year they’re going to have a major celebration for Earth Day that will involve not just Clifton Springs High but the entire town. This is what they did at Cody’s school last year and it was an incredible success that got them widespread media coverage and national attention. If it can work in California, the birthplace of photochemical smog, says Cody, there’s no reason it won’t work here. There will be stalls and competitions, exhibits and information, swap shops and a recycling centre, music and food. Everyone will be encouraged to join in. There will be something for everyone, and something everyone can do. They’ll need plenty of volunteers to run the stalls. They’ll need people with special interests to run workshops. They’ll need tons of donations of clothes, books and household items. Everyone is excited. Even Ms Kimodo. Ms Kimodo thinks they’ll have less trouble getting Dr Firestone on board than they would have trying to fall off an ice-covered mountain. “The Earth Day celebration’s just the kind of upbeat thing he loves,” said Ms Kimodo. Which is true. Nothing pleases Dr Firestone more than a smiling photo of himself on page one of the
Clifton Springs Observer
.

The meeting ended in high spirits. The gleeful gaggles of girls departed, bubbling with energy and eagerness, and Ms Kimodo and Cody left together talking about how best to approach Dr Firestone, leaving Clemens, Waneeda and Joy Marie to put the room back in order.

“What have I been saying?” Joy Marie grins when the door shuts for the last time.

Clemens and Waneeda, who are setting down a desk, both look over at her.

“Never say die?” guesses Clemens.

“Miracles do happen?” ventures Waneeda.

“Well, kind of.” Joy Marie snaps a chair into place. “What I meant was, I said that the club was going to be saved and it is! We’re out of the woods.”

Clemens brushes something invisible to the human eye from the top of the desk. “Maybe.”

Joy Marie puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe?” she repeats. “What do you mean,
maybe
? We have all these new members… We have this great plan… We’re actually going to have Dr Firestone
with
us instead of against us, which should make a nice change…”

Clemens’ mouth shrugs. “I just mean … maybe. As in, maybe we’re not out of the woods. Maybe we’re just in a clearing.” What Clemens means is that he’s afraid from the speed with which things have already changed that they could lose their focus. Making the club viable is one thing; making it unrecognizable is something else. “It’s only day one, you know.”

Waneeda pops another chocolate caramel into her mouth and stuffs the wrapper in her pocket. “Things can still go wrong,” she says.

“Oh, thanks, Waneeda. That’s really helpful. I bet Columbus wished he’d had you with him when he set sail for the West Indies.” Joy Marie’s face flushes with annoyance. “You don’t say anything throughout the whole meeting, and now you’ve decided to be all negative as usual.”

“I’m not being negative.” She is. As it happens, this is partly because she agrees with Clemens. Although her own motives are not beyond reproach, Waneeda can see that there’s a difference between one person joining the club because of Cody Lightfoot and twelve joining for the same reason. It’s a little like building your house on sand. Or a lake. The foundations are bound to shift in time, to crumble and collapse. But Waneeda’s negativity also owes something to Sicilee and Maya. The state of bliss with which the meeting began for Waneeda ended as soon as she realized that there was going to be no way of ignoring the two of them. It was hard trying not to notice them sitting on either side of Cody like particularly self-satisfied bookends, but it was possible. When they popped up together like slices from a toaster, carrying on so much that Cody wound up going back to his seat, Waneeda knew that there was no way of pretending they weren’t there. She could see that every meeting was going to be dominated by them out-Greening each other.
I’m Greener than you are… No,
I’m
Greener than you are… No,
I
am… No, I am… Well, I’m so Green that I’m going to change my name to Chlorophyll… Oh, yeah? Well, I’m going to change my name to Spinach!
Which means that every second of happiness given by her proximity to Cody and his smile is going to be soured by their presence. “I’m only saying…”