Trouble in the Trees (2 page)

“Looks like the other residents of Cedar Grove are as worried about your tree climbing as I am.” Mom was still frowning.

Jumping up from my chair, I grabbed the piece of paper off the table. It looked exactly like all the other notices the council sent out.

Dear Residents of Cedar Grove,

This notice is to inform you of a new interim
bylaw recently approved by the Cedar Grove
Neighborhood Council.

Bylaw 47.21: Tree climbing, defined as any
activity consisting of ascending and moving
around in one or more trees, is prohibited on
Cedar Grove property unless performed by a
certified arborist.

All trees within the property line of
the Cedar Grove Townhouse Complex are
governed by this bylaw.

Please note that this new bylaw is effective
immediately. As per Neighborhood Council
procedure, this interim bylaw will be ratified
at the upcoming Annual General Meeting. In
the meantime, any resident found in violation
of the bylaw will be fined in accordance with
the Neighborhood Act.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

Cedar Grove Neighborhood Council

I was stunned. I read the notice twice. No more tree climbing? I was pretty sure that's what they were trying to say. This must be a joke.

“I'm still not sure the council can do that,” Dad said.

“Well, I'm sure they can. It's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt climbing those trees,” Mom said.

“But that's what kids do. They climb trees,” Dad replied. “What's next—a ban on hide-and-go-seek? Or tag?”

“It's dangerous, Steven! I keep saying that! Why aren't you listening to me?” Mom took a step away from Dad and crossed her arms, signaling that the case was closed. Mom and Dad didn't like to disagree, and they worked hard at what they called “united parenting.” A little too hard, in my opinion.

I chewed slowly through the rest of my lunch, even though my appetite was gone. How could I stop climbing trees? My mind started racing, trying to think of other places where I could climb. Problem was, we lived right in the middle of Vancouver, one of the most populated cities in Canada, where lots of people were crammed into a small area surrounded by the ocean and the mountains. There weren't a lot of climbable trees around. The ones in the park by the school were all skinny and small. The ones lining the Fraser River pathway had all been trimmed so the lowest branches were too high to reach. And the trees in the field between Cedar Grove and the neighboring townhouse complex? Well, now there weren't any trees there at all. They had been chopped down to make room for the adults to play Ultimate Frisbee.

While I was eating and thinking, I heard the sounds of a street hockey game starting up. Nets were dragged into the street. Hockey sticks scraped against the cement. I went to the window and saw that Tyler and his sidekick, Michael, had already separated everyone into teams. Five players for the Blues. Four players for the Reds.

Over the noise of the hockey game I could hear some girls skipping and chanting: “
Ice-cream sundae,
banana split. Salina's got a boyfriend, who is it? A! B! C!…
”

There were five girls, all younger than me, that I privately referred to as the Cedar Grove Girly-Girls. They were always—I mean ALWAYS—skipping. I often went to bed at night with the sound of their rhymes ringing in my head. And all their favorite rhymes were about boyfriends. I had no idea why. I had no interest in boys whatsoever. Not in that way.

I didn't have any interest in skipping either. After about five minutes, I found it boring. All you had to do was jump. Over and over and over again. There was no thinking involved. I guess that's why they spent so much time coming up with those rhymes. And since I wasn't very good at rhyming, I didn't spend much time with the Cedar Grove Girly-Girls.

On the other hand, I loved playing sports with the boys who lived in Cedar Grove. There were always enough people around to start up a game of something. It was the best part about living in a complex like Cedar Grove. The worst part was that everyone always seemed to know all your business.

Leaving the rest of my lunch untouched, I ran to get my shoes so I could join the Reds. They didn't really need another player. Michael was so good at hockey I was sure he could beat all five Blues on his own. But I was anxious for the distraction.

“Hey, Bree,” Ethan, Cedar Grove's kid genius, called my name as soon as I stepped outside.

It took me a second to spot him sitting on the steps in front of his house, watching the action. “Hey, Ethan. Why aren't you playing?” I asked.

He shrugged.

Before I could ask him any more questions, one of the other boys yelled, “Bree! Wanna play?”

“You bet,” I said grabbing a stick from one of the open garages. “I'll be Red.”

“Not afraid to lose?” Tyler was playing goalie for the Blues. As he looked up at me the ball sailed past him into the net.

“Goal!” Ethan yelled. This cheered me up a little. Okay, a lot.

“Time out,” Tyler said, glaring at Ethan.

The boys reluctantly followed Tyler's lead, as usual, and the game stopped. Some players took a water break. Others slowly got ready for the next face-off. They didn't stop because they wanted to. They stopped because they thought they had to. At twelve years old, Tyler was the oldest and biggest kid living in Cedar Grove. Not including the teenagers, who never wanted anything to do with us.

“Hope you're not planning on climbing trees anytime soon, Bree.” Tyler laughed. “If you do, I'm going to have to report you to the Neighborhood Council.”

“What's he talking about, Bree?” Ethan asked.

“Tree climbing is illegal in Cedar Grove now. Your parents could get fined.” Tyler sounded pleased, probably because the one activity I could actually beat him at had just been banned.

“The council has banned tree climbing,” I mumbled to Ethan, trying not to let Tyler get to me. A fight with Tyler would only make things worse. If that was even possible.

“Really?” Ethan said, his eye's growing wide. “I can't believe it.”

“Believe it,” Tyler said. “It's true.”

A lot of the Cedar Grove kids hadn't heard the news yet. The notice had only just arrived in the mail. Everyone seemed pretty upset. Except Tyler. For sure he was glad I wouldn't be able to get to the top of every tree before him. Before anyone.

“What's the fine?” Michael asked. Michael was eleven—the same age as me—and he acted like the world revolved around Tyler.

“Don't know,” I replied. I hadn't thought about that. It didn't really seem to matter. For me, the fact that it wasn't allowed was enough. I wasn't the type to break the rules. Not because I was a goody-goody, but because I was almost certain to get caught.

“Oh, it's probably only a hundred bucks or something,” said Tyler. As if he had any idea. “Not enough to stop someone who truly wanted to climb a tree.” He smirked at me.

“It's two hundred and fifty dollars for the first violation and five hundred and twenty-five for the second. If you don't pay the fine, the Neighborhood Council can sell your townhouse and keep the money,” Ethan said. I was surprised to hear him speak up like that, especially around Tyler. He's usually pretty quiet.

Michael whistled. “That's a lot of money!”

“The fine is nothing compared to being kicked out of your house,” said Ethan.

“This sucks,” said Peter, one of the boys who liked to climb with me.

“Really sucks,” added another.

“Isn't your mom the president of the Cedar Grove Neighborhood Council?” Tyler asked Ethan.

“Uh…yeah,” Ethan replied, looking down at his shoes.

“She's sure made things miserable around here. Since she became president we've lost the jungle gym, then the weight room, and now this. What's her problem anyway?”

“Leave Ethan alone,” I said. “It's not his fault.”

Tyler turned toward me. “You're right. It's your fault, Bree. Always needing to climb higher and higher. Encouraging other kids to take risks. What'd you think the council was going to do?”

I stood there in silence, searching my brain for a quick and clever comeback. Nothing. I looked around at all the other kids. They were all staring at me, waiting for a response.

Was it really my fault? I wasn't sure. But I knew one thing for certain. I was going to have to do something about this tree-climbing bylaw.

Chapter 3

I had to wait until lunch at school the next day to discuss the tree-climbing situation with my best friend Sarah. During the week she lives with her dad and stepmom in a townhouse complex near Cedar Grove, but she spends weekends at her mom's house in Surrey. Even though Surrey's only an hour from Vancouver it feels a lot further because Sarah's mom is really strict about Sarah's phone and computer use.

As we were eating some disgusting thing the cafeteria cooks had tried to disguise as food, I told her all about the letter from the Neighborhood Council and how Tyler had told everyone that the new bylaw was my fault.

Sarah ran her tongue over her braces and then said, “It's not your fault that you're good at climbing trees.” That's why Sarah is my best friend. She sees things the same way I do. And when I'm not sure about something, she makes it all seem clear.

“Do you think there's anything I can do about it?” I asked her.

“I don't know, Bree. It's gonna be tough,” Sarah said thoughtfully.

“But I have to try, right?”

“Of course.” Sarah stuffed a spoonful of slop into her mouth before continuing. “Remember when my dad went to battle with our council over clotheslines?”

I nodded. How could I forget? It had been a big deal in Meadow Park, Sarah's townhouse complex, for a long time.

“He made a presentation.”

“Presentation?”

“Yup. In front of the entire council. A PowerPoint presentation. He practiced on me ahead of time. I forget most of it because it, was so long and boring—all ‘environmental statistics' and ‘technical details.'”

Sarah's dad and stepmom were always trying to reduce their carbon footprint. A while ago, they got on a kick about hanging their clothes outside to avoid using the dryer. Problem was, there was a bylaw against clotheslines in their townhouse complex. And there still is a bylaw against clotheslines in Meadow Park because people who live close together don't want to see each other's underwear flapping around in the wind. Or something like that. Obviously, the presentation hadn't done much good.

“I don't know if I could do a presentation,” I said. “Not in front of the entire council. That's like, what? Six or seven grown-ups?” The thought of it made me feel sick to my stomach. I pushed away the rest of my so-called lunch.

“So what are you gonna do then?” Sarah asked, digging into her chocolate pudding.

“Maybe I could just talk to the president of the council?” I said, thinking about Ethan's mom, Ms. Matheson.

“Worth a try,” Sarah said as the bell rang. “Let me know how it goes.” She gathered her stuff and darted away to class.

I headed off to homeroom, happy to have a plan. I knew I had to do something about the bylaw, but I was a bit nervous. Talking to Ms. Matheson would certainly be easier than giving a presentation to the entire council. She was a mom, after all, and she worked hard to give Ethan a good life. Extra hard because there was no Mr. Matheson. Still, I was just a regular eleven-year-old and Ms. Matheson was a president. Even if she was only president of the Neighborhood Council, she was still a
president
.

I decided not to put it off. As soon as my homework was finished, I summoned up all my courage and knocked hesitantly on the Mathesons' front door, Unit 49.

When Ethan answered, he was holding something against his elbow. It took me a moment to realize that it was one of those Magic Bags. According to the ads, they have some kind of grain inside that can be cooled in the freezer or warmed in the microwave. Relieves pain, helps you relax, takes away stress…blah, blah, blah. As soon as Ethan saw me, he tried to hide the bag behind his back. I made a mental note to ask him about it after I finished talking to his mom.