Real Mermaids 2 - Don't Hold Their Breath (10 page)

By dinnertime, Chelse had set up a Facebook page and had 37 likes. Dad was reheating Mrs. Blake's lasagna in the microwave while I filled Cori in on the news over the phone.

“Butterflies versus Boutiques.” I read the title of the Facebook page as I surfed the web at the kitchen counter.

“She used my butterfly arm. Cool!” Cori said.

Chelse had cropped the picture from my cell phone to show just Cori's arm and a dump truck off in the distance. In the description she'd written, “Mall construction is destroying Monarch butterfly habitat. Join our protest to save this beautiful butterfly from becoming endangered.”

“Do you think it'll work?” Cori asked.

“Not sure.” I scrolled through the page's members but only recognized a few people. Some wondered what the group was all about. Some agreed with how wrong it was to destroy Monarch butterfly habitat for the sake of a larger mall. Others posted pictures of their cats.

“Guess it can't hurt,” Cori said. “I'm going to share the link with my friends.”

I clicked the Share button and did the same. Not that I thought my 258 friends would make much of a difference, but by the time I returned to the Butterflies vs. Boutiques page, seven more people had joined.

I clicked on Chelse's profile. “Chelse is popular, huh? Over a thousand friends.”

“Oh wow,” Cori said.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you see what she just put on her wall?”

“No. What?” I refreshed Chelse's page but it took forever to reload on my decrepit laptop. “Oh!”

I know you're all wondering about THE VIDEO! :) Watch it on the Butterflies vs. Boutiques page and while you're there, help support a good friend, a great listener, and a worthy cause.

I clicked back to the Butterflies vs. Boutiques page. Chelse had posted a video with the caption “New and Improved!”

“What does ‘New and Improved' mean?” I asked.

“Shh…I'm watching it now,” Cori said.

I pressed Play and waited for the video to buffer. It was the same video her ex-boyfriend had posted but with new captions.

gurl1: hey gurl!

gurl2: hey gurl! whatcha doing?

gurl1: figuring out that my ex-boyfriend is a moron. whatcha doing?

gurl2: agreeing with you.

The dog ran in front of Chelse and made her trip, just as before, but this time the video stopped while she was in midair. A new caption flashed at the end.

WARNING: Don't fall for morons because they might put stupid videos of you on Facebook.

“Oh, ha-ha! That's awesome,” I said.

“I know, right?” Cori replied.

“What's this?” Dad leaned across the counter to see. He placed a bowl of steaming lasagna in front of me.

“Call you later,” I said before hanging up.

“This is what you were saying earlier?” Dad scrolled through the page. “About the Monarch butterfly?”

“Yeah. We've already got”—I refreshed the page and felt a rush of excitement—“154 likes! Cool, right?”

“I dunno, Jade. Do you really think a
Facebook
page is going to do any good?”

A roiling anger boiled up inside of me. Here we were, trying to do something to make a difference (well, actually it was Chelse's idea, but whatever), and our parents
still
didn't take us seriously. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Eddie and I are going to work on the Merlin 3000 tonight.” Dad bobbed his eyebrows then dug into his bowl of lasagna.

If
they got the Merlin 3000 up and running and
if
we could somehow get to mom, then it wouldn't matter if she had finished her transformation yet. That was more
ifs
than I was comfortable with.

The doorbell rang as I glanced at the Facebook page again. 247 likes.

“Oh good. Gran's here.” Dad went to the front hall to answer the door.

“Gran?” I stabbed my fork into my lasagna. Not only was I not allowed to date but now I needed a baby-sitter?

I guess going to the movies was out of the question.

•••

With Dad and Eddie playing mad scientist, there was nothing left to do but watch TV bingo with Gran, surf the net, and worry and wait.

Gran sat on the couch next to me with two TV tray tables full of bingo cards. Her hands were a bingo dabbing blur, marking each number as the local cable announcer called out the numbers.

“I'm honored you gave up your Sunday Roulette Night at the casino to hang out with me,” I kidded.

“Oh, not roulette, silly. Sunday night is half-price slots.” She slapped my knee and squeezed it with a giggle, never missing a bingo number in the process. “But anything for my little Jadie.”

I had to admit, it didn't feel quite as condescending when Gran called me little. She was my grandmother, after all. So maybe she wasn't a typical grandma, but at least she had an excuse for talking to me like a six-year-old.

“Watch my cards while I go to the little girls' room, will you, Jadie?” Gran got up and adjusted her
Embrace
Your
Inner
Cheesecake
T-shirt around her wide hips. “Otherwise, I'll have to rip a toot and it won't be pretty.”

Like I said: not typical.

“Got you covered.” I put my laptop on the side table next to the couch and grabbed her bingo marker to start dabbing dots over all her N-42s. Gah! She had a
lot
of cards.

The phone rang.

I fumbled to answer it while trying to listen to the announcer call the next number.

“Hey,” Cori said.

“Hi. You got my text? Sorry about the movie.”

“No worries. My knee is still killing me and my mom wasn't too keen on the idea anyway. That's not why I called. Did you see the invitation?”

“What invitation?” I asked.

“B-7,” the TV announcer called.

“Check Facebook,” Cori replied.

I dabbed as many B-7s as I could find then refreshed the screen on the Butterflies vs. Boutiques Facebook page. We were up to 473 members and Chelse had created an event and invited everyone to attend.

BUTTERFLIES vs. BOUTIQUES RALLY

“What's this all about?” I asked.

“Chelse is trying to get a bunch of people together for a protest,” Cori said.

“O-72,” the announcer called out from the TV.

“Just a sec.” I scanned Gran's cards to find all her O-72s.

“What the heck are you doing, anyway?” Cori asked.

“You don't want to know.” I laughed.

Thankfully, Gran got back from her washroom break and shooed me away so she could take over bingo duty. I scooted over to the side of the couch with my laptop to have a better look at the invitation.

Time:
Monday, August 1, 10:00 a.m.

Location:
Port Toulouse Mall

Created
by:
BUTTERFLY vs. BOUTIQUES

More
Info:
Chamberlain Construction says they are a GREEN company, but their Port Toulouse Mall expansion is threatening the Monarch butterfly's precious habitat. Wear GREEN to help stop the Port Toulouse mall construction. Do your part to save this special species.

“This is for tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I can't go because I have to work, which totally bites,” Cori said.

I scanned the invitation again. “Chelse really has taken this butterfly idea and run with it, huh?”

“No kidding.”

“Oh, what the heck, it can't hurt.” I accepted the invitation, but almost wished I hadn't since the only people who'd confirmed were Chelse, Trey, Luke, and me. I hated to admit it, but maybe Dad was right. Did this Facebook thing stand a chance?

“Oh! BINGO!!” Gran called out, nearly making me fall off the couch. “Bingo! Bingo! Get off the phone, Jadie. I need to call it in!”

“Sorry, Cori! Gotta go!” I hung up so Gran could call the TV station to claim her prize and stared at the four lonely profile pictures in the rally's Attending column. Would tomorrow's rally help save my mom or just be another huge disappointment?

Four kids wearing green T-shirts in front of a mall didn't exactly qualify as a rally. People kept handing us their shopping carts to take them back into Hyde's Department Store, mistaking us for parking lot attendants. One asked Luke and Trey if their Boy Scout troop was collecting donations for the Food Bank.

The chances of stopping the mall construction and saving Mom were not looking good.

“We should get ready. It's almost ten.” Chelse handed me a pair of dollar-store butterfly wings. “Here, I brought extras.”

“Thanks!” I said. Chelse had worked so hard, making signs, setting up the Facebook page—everything—to help protect the Monarch. Little did she know she might be helping another endangered species too: Mers. “My mom would really appreciate all this.”

“Don't mention it. It's for a good cause.” Chelse grinned a mischievous smile. “Plus, my video has almost as many views as my ex-boyfriend's. My faith in humanity has been restored.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well, you're making a difference.”

How
much
of a difference, I wasn't sure, since just then a dump truck rumbled up the gravel road behind McDonald's. I shivered at the thought of Mom getting buried under one of those piles of dirt and turned to Trey and Luke while Chelse checked her phone.

“The trucks have been streaming in and out of the construction site ever since we got here.” Dread sat in my belly like a heavy stone. “Do you guys know if anyone else is coming?”

Trey and Luke looked at each other for a brief second and Luke let out a little laugh.

“What? Didn't
anybody
else sign up?” I asked.

Luke pointed out to the parking lot and smiled. “See for yourself.”

I looked out at all the parked cars and didn't understand what he meant at first. Then, people in green T-shirts began to get out of cars and trucks, come out of the McDonald's, disembark from a huge yellow bus with the words CAMP WHYCOCOMAGH written across the side, and make their way toward us through the parking lot.

“Green means green! Green means green!”

There were dozens at first, then many, many dozens, and soon after, a sea of green appeared.

“Butterflies not Boutiques! Butterflies not Boutiques!”

“Wow. These people are all for the rally?” I asked in disbelief.

“That or they were having a sale on green T-shirts at Hyde's.” Luke handed me a sign and smiled.

“Over here!” I yelled, waving the sign high into the air so the crowd could see us. There was “butterscotch sundae” Maeve from the post office, “banana-split” sharing Mr. and Mrs. Howser, and the lady with baby Olivia and the gelato-loving little boy, plus many, many more.

It took me about three seconds to turn into a blubbering, snot-bubble crybaby, but I didn't care. I just couldn't believe how many people had actually showed up.

“Thanks so much for coming!” I said to each person I greeted, handing them a pamphlet.

Pretty
awesome, huh?
Luke leaned over and rang into my ear.

More
than
awesome.
I
just
hope
it's enough,
I replied.

“Hey, you got a pair of wings for us?” A voice from behind made me jump. I turned.

“Cori!” I hugged her tightly. “I thought you had to work!”

“Well, there's
nobody
on Main Street, so the boss figured we should close up shop and join in on the fun.” Cori stepped to the side to reveal Bridget popping open a humongous cooler of ice cream.

“Wow, guys!” I fought back more tears. “I just don't know what to say. Thank you. This is all so awesome. How's your knee?” I asked Cori.

“Better. Plus, there was no way I was going to miss this!” she replied.

“Green means green! Green means green!” the crowd chanted. “Butterflies not Boutiques! Butterflies not Boutiques!”

But despite all our banner waving and chanting, the trucks kept rolling up and down the gravel construction road.

Any
one
of
those
loads
of
earth
could
be
burying
my
mom
right
now,
I rang to Luke.

Well, then. Let's take this show on the road.
Luke whistled to Trey who was directing traffic in the parking lot. He pointed to the truck kicking up a cloud of dirt along the road.

Trey understood and leaned in to talk to a group of tattooed motorcyclists that had just driven up. The leader of the pack smiled and nodded his head for his pals to follow, then wheeled his bike through the parking lot to the gravel road, which they parked across.

“Hey! This way!” Luke waved for everyone to follow him.

Cori and Chelse grabbed the ice cream cooler while I carried the extra signs and butterfly wings. We looked like a humongous green snake as our rally weaved through the parking lot to join the motorcycle blockade.

“Oh. Wait a second!” I rushed over to the biggest biker and handed him a pair of purple sparkly wings. He chuckled and slipped the elastic straps around his muscular shoulders. His buddy flipped one of his wings and laughed, but butterfly biker swatted his hand away.

A dump truck exited the highway and slowed down as it approached the crowd. The driver blared his horn for the motorcycles to move, but the tattooed, leather-vested bikers leaned back on their bike seats and folded their beefy, tanned arms across their chests.

The truck driver opened his door and scanned the crowd.

“Butterflies not boutiques!”

He shook his head and sat back in his truck.

“Green means green!”

“How many people signed up for this, anyway?” I asked Luke once he finally made his way through the crowd to me. The crowd's chants were so loud I could barely hear myself speak.

Luke got his phone out and searched for the Facebook invitation. “Lots!”

There
were
lots—352 to be exact. They kept arriving in cars and buses while others came out of the mall to see what our protest was all about. In fact, one of the most recent arrivals was making a beeline for our group.

“Lainey Chamberlain.” Cori stepped in front of her. “I see you got my invitation.”

•••

“What exactly do you think you're doing?” Lainey's perfectly straightened hair skimmed her shoulders as she glanced around the crowd.

Cori handed her a pamphlet. “Stopping your daddy's mall construction. And saving the Monarch butterfly.”

“Oh really?” Lainey ignored the pamphlet and looked up to the sky and smiled. “Well, we'll just see about that.”

Seconds later, the
whomp, whomp, whomp
of something big and ominous sounded from above.

“A helicopter?” Trey called out over the noise. “Cool!”

“Not cool!” I cried. Especially when the sound of sirens filled the air as a police car pulled up from the direction of the highway and a security car screeched to a halt on the other side of our group, from the construction side.

“Wow!” Bridget shouted. “You kids definitely know how to get people's attention.”

“Must be the ice cream!” Cori handed out two more cones to the gathering crowd.

The helicopter did a flyby of our crowd, then landed in an empty field a couple hundred feet away. A tall, tanned man who looked like he'd just stepped off the golf course emerged from the helicopter's side door flanked by two business-suited pinheads carrying briefcases.

“Daddy!” Lainey rushed over to greet him and held out her arms for a hug, but Mr. Chamberlain didn't seem to notice her.

“Get the lawyers on this,” he boomed to the pinhead on his right as the helicopter propellers whirred to a stop. He scanned the crowd and scowled. “
Now!
”

“Daddy,” Lainey tried again.

Mr. Chamberlain stopped short and took off his sunglasses.

“Lainey?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

Lainey rubbed her arms as if a cold breeze had just swept over her.

“I'm the one who called your office earlier. They're trying to stop your mall project.” She handed him the pamphlet. He scanned it quickly, then gave it back with a wave of his hand.

“Darling, this doesn't concern you.” Mr. Chamberlain put his sunglasses back on and stalked over to the police car. Lainey followed him. She looked down at the pamphlet and unfolded it as she went.

“What are we supposed to do now?” I asked once Lainey and her dad were out of earshot.

“Yeah, Mr. Chamberlain doesn't exactly look like the bargaining type.” Cori watched as he gestured toward the crowd while talking to the police.

I dropped my sign to my side and turned to Luke.
Any
ideas?

Just
wait
a
sec.
Luke scrolled through something on his phone. “Someone posted a link on our Facebook page about a subway line that had to be totally rerouted because of a rare kind of tree.”

Luke handed me his phone just as the policeman turned on the siren and lights.

“Attention, everyone!” the policeman called out through his bullhorn. “You are welcome to continue your demonstration, but you need to clear this road.” He swept his arm over the crowd, motioning to the edges of the road. A few moms with strollers pushed them onto the grassy area.

“Daddy?” Lainey said as Mr. Chamberlain made his way back to his waiting helicopter. She held up the pamphlet. “Is this true? Is the construction destroying the Monarch's habitat?”

Something on Luke's phone screen caught my eye—one detail that could change everything. Could it be? Could this be the thing that would stop Chamberlain Construction in its tracks?

I rushed after Lainey and her dad, trying to read the information on the phone's screen while Mr. Chamberlain stalked back to his helicopter followed by his pinheads. He turned to face his daughter before climbing in.

“Don't believe everything you read, darling. These people are menaces, keeping people from doing their jobs,” he said, scanning the crowd. “This is a multimillion-dollar project and idle trucks cost me money.”

Mr. Chamberlain pointed to the two dump trucks parked along the road waiting to get through as the crowd moved to the side.

“Green means green!”

“Butterflies not boutiques!”

Finally, I had what I wanted. I looked up from Luke's cell phone. “Mr. Chamberlain?”

“I've got to get back to my golf game, sweetie,” he said to Lainey. “I'll see you at home.”

“Mr. Chamberlain, wait! Each pile of dirt you dump in there is destroying the environment and putting the Monarch butterfly at risk, not to mention all the birds and other wildlife.” Like my
mom
, I wanted to say, but I fought back the urge.

“Green means green!”

“Butterflies not Boutiques!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nobody is
destroying
the environment.” Mr. Chamberlain held up his hands and raised his voice so the crowd could hear. “Chamberlain Construction is a
green
company. Why do you think we've committed to this urban garden idea?”

“So,” I continued over the sound of the revving propellers, checking the information on Luke's phone to make sure I got it right, “are you telling us that you've had a full Environmental Assessment? Because it doesn't seem too
green
to fill in a marsh full of a species of interest.”

Mr. Chamberlain turned to me and reddened. He looked back to one of his pinheads and whispered something in his ear. Pinhead shuffled through his briefcase nervously and produced a paper after a few minutes of frenzied searching. Lainey's dad scanned the document quickly and produced it for us to see.

“One of these, you mean?”

I took the paper in my hand.

It was, indeed, an Environmental Assessment. My heart sank. Of course Mr. Chamberlain had jumped through all the hoops. The guy owned a multimillion-dollar construction company.

Pinhead snatched the document back from me and stuffed it in his briefcase.

“So see? Chamberlain Construction is
committed
to the environment. We're even putting in a Rainforest Café in the new wing. You kids are going to love it.” Mr. Chamberlain winked at me like I was a first grader and disappeared into his helicopter with his pinhead posse. But just as they were getting in, the turbulence from the propellers made a few papers flutter out of the pinhead's briefcase.

Lainey stooped to pick them up and waved them toward the helicopter, but it had already lifted off and swept over the crowd on its way back to the golf course.

Everyone must have decided it was no use to continue our rally, because I felt the pats on my back as protesters dumped their signs and butterfly wings into Chelse's supply box.