Trouble in the Trees (7 page)

We were loud.

We were also very visible.

Michael had found a bunch of picket signs in his garage. The night before, we'd covered the old blue and white slogans and replaced them with our own.

The new signs read,
Trees are meant for climbing
and
If we can't climb, we won't bathe
and
No More
Rules
. On Michael's sign, he'd written the word
RULES
in the middle of a big red circle with a line through it. Like the No Smoking signs you see all over the place. Tyler's sign was the same except that, instead of
RULES,
he'd drawn a bathtub in the middle of the circle. He was really into the no-bathing thing.

On my sign the words
Need to be free to climb a
tree
were written in bright green. I held it high and marched at the back, making sure everyone stayed in line. Cedar Grove isn't very big, so we made the same loop over and over again.

It wasn't long before we started to get some attention.

Mrs. Leary leaned out her window and yelled, “I can't hear
Coronation Street
!” Then she added, “There are bylaws in Cedar Grove, you know!” Of course, that made us all laugh. She obviously had no idea what we were doing. Poor old Mrs. Leary. Had she ever been a kid? It was hard to imagine. We moved quickly past her house.

Dad stood at the corner with a couple of the other parents, drinking coffee. He smiled as we marched by. When I'd told him about the tree-climbing protest, he'd gone on and on about how proud he was of me and about how much he'd admired the hippie protesters he grew up with. He always wanted to join them, but he never had the time to do anything but play hockey.

Mom wasn't exactly supportive of the protest, but she said it was good that I was doing something. Lucky for me, she was at an engineering conference, so I didn't have to deal with her disapproval.

Our message was obviously being heard by some residents of Cedar Grove, but I hadn't seen Ms. Matheson or anyone else I recognized from the Neighborhood Council. I started getting a little anxious. I'd been so busy planning the protest that I hadn't really thought about the possibility that it might not work. It had to work.

After an hour we stopped and had some snacks. Cookies and juice supplied by Mrs. Williams. It seemed strange that she was supporting us, given that she was a member of the council. Was it possible that she was afraid Mrs. Leary could convince the council to ban pets? Whatever the reason, I was glad Ashley had suggested snacks. Protesting was tiring.

It was hard to get everyone going again after the break. Some of the kids had had enough.

But then Sarah and Ethan started chanting, “
We
want to climb! We want to climb! We want to climb!
”

Sammy and Salina brought out a bunch of noisemakers—toy drums and maracas and a tambourine. Tyler and Michael started banging on metal garbage lids with hockey sticks. Soon everyone was marching again, and we were louder than ever.

We must have passed Ethan's house about a hundred times. I'd almost given up hope when Ms. Matheson suddenly appeared on the doorstop. “Okay,” she shouted above the noise, “what's it going to take to make you stop?”

Almost immediately, everyone stopped marching, chanting, rattling and banging.

Knowing that she had our full attention, Ms. Matheson used her principal's voice to say, “This kind of behavior is not acceptable.” She glared at Tyler, who just happened to be standing right in front of her.

“It was Bree's idea,” Tyler said. Coward, I thought.

“Brianna?” Ms. Matheson said, rubbing her forehead. “What's this all about?”

“We're protesting the Cedar Grove bylaw against tree climbing,” I said, trying to sound confident and official.

“What you are doing,” Ms. Matheson said, still rubbing her forehead, “is disturbing everyone.”

“It's a peaceful protest, Ms. Matheson,” I said. “We want to make sure everyone in Cedar Grove knows how we feel.”

“I think everyone has heard you loud and clear.” As Ms. Matheson said this, she scanned the group, trying to make eye contact. A principal trick, for sure. Poor Ethan. “Now why don't you use those hockey sticks the way they are meant to be used,” she said to Tyler and Michael.

“We're not done protesting, ma'am,” Michael responded.

“How long do you plan to go on?” Ms. Matheson asked. She glanced at the other parents. There was a big group of them now. Dad had brought out a bunch of lawn chairs and set them up in front of our garage. They were drinking coffee and eating Timbits. They were acting like we were entertainment. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

“We're not bathing until the bylaw is changed,” Tyler said, confident now that Michael and I had spoken up. “Or showering,” he added. Just to be clear, I guess.

“Good luck with that,” Ms. Matheson said sharply. She turned around and closed the front door behind her. Ethan stood trembling next to Sarah.

“Now they'll probably make a bylaw against protests,” someone said. Everyone laughed, but it was nervous laughter.

We marched a little more, this time chanting, “
No
more rules! No more rules!
” But the protest didn't last much longer. The enthusiasm was gone.

I should have known that was a sign of things to come.

Chapter 11

At first, the no-bathing thing was no big deal. But on day five I started to feel dirty and discouraged. After social studies, I stayed behind to ask Mr. Vandermeer how long they'd protested in Clayoquot Sound before the clear-cutting stopped. Mr. Vandermeer laughed and said, “Years.” I didn't think that was very funny. There was no way I could go years without climbing or taking a bath.

When I got home from school, Tyler and Michael were out playing basketball. They asked if I wanted to shoot some hoops with them. I couldn't climb trees, which is what I really wanted to do, and I wasn't about to start skipping or reading, so I decided to join them.

Bad idea. I got my first whiff of bo as I tried to block one of Tyler's shots. He ended up scoring on me because I was gasping for breath. What a smell! Michael wasn't quite as bad but he still stunk. Boys are so disgusting.

“PEEUW!” I yelled after a few more minutes of torture. I couldn't take it anymore.

“What's your problem?” Tyler asked as he sank another layup.

“You stink.”

“Duh,” said Tyler. “What did you think was going to happen when we stopped bathing? That's the whole point. Our ‘stink,' as you call it, is what forces our parents and the Council to take action and change the bylaw.” He obviously wasn't bothered by it at all.

Michael, on the other hand, looked a bit self-conscious. “At least that's the theory,” he said as he passed me the ball.

“Well, you've forced
me
to take action. I'm outta here.” I passed the ball back to Michael and headed home to get my bike.

I needed some space. As I rode, I managed to clear my head and not think about anything. It was great. I felt better than I had in days. No, weeks. Maybe months. It felt like I'd been fighting this tree-climbing bylaw forever.

But the good feeling disappeared as soon as I returned to Cedar Grove and ran into Ashley. She was out walking Puddles, her poodle. I knew right away that she'd taken a bath or a shower more recently than me. Her pretty blond hair was bouncing around her shoulders, so clean it almost sparkled.

“Hi, Bree!” she called out enthusiastically.

“Hey,” I mumbled. I didn't want to stop, but it didn't look like I had a choice. She was blocking my path, and Puddles had decided it was time for a little “doo-doo,” as Mrs. Leary called it.

“Bike ride?” she said as she pulled out a bag to clean up the poo.

I wanted to scream. I was on my bike, wearing my helmet. Of course I was out for a bike ride! I would be riding right now if her clean body wasn't in my way! With as much self-control as I could muster, I shot back, “Dog walk?”

Ashley laughed as she bent over to fill the bag. “I don't want to break the rules!” She held the bag up proudly so I could take a good look. Yuck.

“What about the protest?” I asked when the bag was finally out of my face.

“What do you mean?”

“The protest? No bathing?”

“Oh.” She looked down. “That.”

“Well?” I demanded.

“Well,” she said slowly, “I didn't think we were really serious about that.”

“Not serious? Do you want the council to prevent Cedar Grove residents from owning pets?”

“No. Of course not.” Ashley looked at Puddles. “I want the council to stop making unnecessary new bylaws as much as you do. But the no-bathing thing… I just thought it was a gimmick.”

“Yes! A gimmick to try and force the council to listen,” I said with disgust. “And to be effective, we all need to do it. When the council members see you looking all sparkly clean, they aren't going to take us seriously at all!”

“And you think that not bathing is going to make them take us seriously? I think it makes us look like silly little kids who are mad because we're not getting our way.”

“And I think you just couldn't handle being dirty. So much for solidarity.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way, Brianna.” Ashley didn't seem angry. Just truly sad that we had a difference of opinion. Again.

“Well, me too.” The back of my throat was starting to burn. With my teeth clenched I opened my mouth just wide enough to say, “I better get home.”

“Me too. See you around.” She gave her dog a pat on the head and started to lead her away.

I rode in the opposite direction, toward the mailboxes. Mrs. Leary was already there, fumbling to find her tiny mailbox key on a ring that looked like it belonged to the school janitor. She must have kept every key from every car and house she'd ever owned.

I waited, trying to be patient. It had been almost a week since the protest, and I hadn't heard anything from the Neighborhood Council. I kept thinking I'd see one of their pee-colored notices in the mail, but nothing had showed up yet.

When Mrs. Leary was finally finished, she turned and looked me right in the eye without saying a word. Then she kind of scrunched her nose and limped away. This was typical Mrs. Leary, but it still made me panic. What if I smelled as bad as Tyler or Michael?

Thank goodness it was almost the weekend. I didn't want to deal with people anymore. And I really didn't want my classmates to start noticing my lack of hygiene. That would be bad.

When I finally opened our mailbox, I spotted the notice right away. My hands were trembling as I rushed to unfold the paper. I was positive that our protest had finally been successful.

But the notice had nothing to do with tree climbing. It was another reminder about cleaning up dog poo! This time threatening to fine anyone who was caught not cleaning up after their dog. What were they planning? To do dna testing to determine which dog the poo belonged to?

Well, score two for Mrs. Leary and none for me. Now I was even more discouraged.

How long could our protest go on? Was anyone even listening? They were treating us like a bunch of kids who didn't matter. But we had something to say! And it was just as important as Mrs. Leary's constant complaints.

This was so unfair!