by Kirsten Rue
I check my watch. 10:30. Finally, I start to see some people walking across the field towards me. Then, I hear a rumbling, and a small dumptruck pulls up to the curb on the other side of the fence behind me. I’ve been sitting up, but now I lie back down. I squint into the shrub at Bob. “I hope you appreciate this, Bob.” Bob stares back at me. I think he’s probably just wondering why I’ve been here so long without feeding him a single bite. The workmen approach, and the dumptruck’s engine rumbles from just beyond the gate.
Finally, they arrive. A group of three holding shovels.
“Stop!” I call out.
They all look around, confused, before they see me lying on the grass directly on the spot where the new shed is supposed to go.
“I am having a sit-in. To protect a rare bird that lives here.”
“Hey, that’s the little girl from the other day!” says one of the workers. He must have been one of the men out there with Mr. Speck. Grrrr, “little,” I think to myself. Don’t even try to stop me, Buster.
“Look, kid. We’re just hired to do a job here. Could you just move for a second so we can get started? You can pick up your bird or whatever.”
“Shouldn’t you be in school anyway?” says another one of the workmen.
I just keep lying on the grass and bring my eyebrows together in the most serious scowl I can manage. “I’m not moving until the shed is moved to another section of Halsey yard,” I say in my firm voice. I try to sound like a detective from a cop show on TV or something. Very serious and very low and very “don’t mess with me.”
“Man, you’ve got to be kidding me!” The first workman says. “I hate this job sometimes.” He pulls out a walkie-talkie from his belt loop. “Yeah, we’ve got a situation here,” he says into its crackly-sounding mouthpiece. “There’s a girl lying down on the grass and she won’t move.”
Now, I don’t exactly know how that message into the walkie-talkie could pass through the whole school in less than an hour, but it does. Mr. Speck jogs out onto the field, the crease between his eyebrows as dark as a canyon. Assistant Principal McCloud comes out (though he doesn’t jog). Ms. Arple, my science teacher, comes out, looking pretty confused. I’ve got a whole ring of teachers staring at me and a whole ring of workmen. And they look MAD.
But then, guess who crosses the field, too?
Esperanza. I see her slip out a side door and bolt towards me. She sits down right on the other side of Bob’s favorite shrub.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this!” she whispers to me.
“Now, what is going on here?” Mr. Speck says in annoyance. “Morty, can you do anything?” (Morty is the assistant principal’s first name.)
“We are not going to move until the endangered bird that lives on this spot is protected!” Esperanza says, loud enough for the whole group to hear.
“Will one of you call their parents? Can we get this taken care of, NOW?!” Mr. Speck asks. He’s shifting his weight back and forth and back and forth. Almost like he really has to pee or something. I think he just can’t wait for us to be peeled off the ground so they can start construction on his shed. I mean, seriously dude, it’s just a shed!
“I will, I will,” Assistant Principal McCloud says, hurrying back towards the school.
Esperanza whispers to me again. “Do you have a chant or anything that you can say? I feel like at these sit-in thingies, they always have a chant to say.” Man, Esperanza is a lot more into this conservation stuff than I thought. We really are the Dynamic Duo.
“Um, give me a sec. . . . What about, ‘Save the Quail! We will prevail!’ I think that means we’ll win. Or something close.”
“Save the quail! We will prevail!” she begins to chant, and I join her. We try to shout as loudly as we can. To tell the truth, I want our words to echo all the way over to the rest of the Halsey sixth graders. I can see them coming outside for recess from across the field. Now’s my chance to get their support, or at least attention. I know that I pretty much screwed up my tour of Bob’s habitat and I double screwed up my petition. Still, how can they not see it’s a good cause? This is their yard, too, after all. I know guys like Joe Russo want every square foot of Halsey to be somehow related to sports, but what about the rest of us? We want to be able to smell the grass and pick a dandelion or two. We want to see wild animals. We want nature to stick around! This is exactly why I want to be a conservationist. I want everyone in the world to know about what’s beautiful around them, and be able to enjoy it in the way they like best. I want other people to get to see all the incredible plants and animals that I see. I mean, nature doesn’t belong to one person, right? We all get to have it. We’ve got to make sure that people building buildings and roads don’t build right over what belongs to everybody.
Assistant Principal McCloud is now hurrying back across the field towards us again. I guess that means he’s called both of our parents. It’s hard for me to predict how my mom will react to the news, but one thing I do know? She is going to be very mad about getting pulled from a busy shift at the hospital to come deal with me.
“Man, my parents are going to kill me,” Esperanza says, looking down.
“I totally won’t hold it against you if you stand up now!” I reply. “Honest. You don’t have to get in trouble for me.”
Esperanza shakes her head, her ponytail flapping back and forth behind her head. “No offense, but it’s not really about you. It’s about Bob.” I hear Bob make one of his happy noises. He’s sitting right at Esperanza’s feet. Almost like he can understand us! Now, another figure is walking very, very slowly to join our small chanting group, the teachers standing around drinking coffee and looking mad, and the workmen also drinking coffee and looking mad. No . . . it couldn’t be!
It’s Granddad. I have no idea how he got a car to drive or paid for a cab, but he’s HERE. Right in front of me. He’s wearing his Irish-style driving cap and carrying the smooth-topped cane he likes to carry around town. I haven’t seen him away from his bird-watching chair in the daytime very often. Yet as he walks now, he looks pretty healthy.
“Ah, Mr. Boggs,” Assistant Principal McCloud says, holding out his hand. “I believe this is your granddaughter?”
“That is correct,” Granddad says with a nod, but instead of stopping and shaking hands, he keeps walking.
“Have room for a third?” he asks Esperanza and me.
I throw my arms around his neck. Slowly, being careful not to strain his back, Granddad sits down on my other side.
“Now, what’s this we’re saying?” he asks. “Something about ‘we will prevail?’“
“Granddad, are you sure you want to do this? I’m in so much trouble!” I say.
“And I couldn’t be prouder of you,” he says back, smiling his crinkly smile.
Bird Park
The other adults stare at Granddad. I can tell they aren’t quite sure what to do. Can I tell you something? It’s not like I wanted to cause everybody a lot of trouble. I mean, I know they are just finding out about Bob. (Bob is now sitting right next to Granddad’s knee. He definitely knows a bird lover when he meets one.) The workmen and the teachers don’t want to build over his home, or at least, they didn’t decide to build that shed over his home on purpose. BUT, if I wasn’t here, if I WASN’T kinda being a pain, there would be a big hole where we are sitting now. I feel happy because, well, I am really doing it! I am being just like one of the naturalists I admire. In fact—and this thought makes my chest swell up like a balloon—I am one.
Esperanza and I grin at each other. The students I hoped would see us, from recess, begin trickling over. The sixth graders know when there’s good gossip happening and no one wants to miss it. I am sort of counting on that. Just then a lady tiptoes over the grass towards us wearing a nice suit. She’s followed by a man with a video camera. IT’S CLARISSA RECKENBECK FROM CHANNEL 4! I can hardly believe it! When Clarissa nears all of the commotion, she turns towards the camera and clears her throat.
“We’re standing here at Halsey Middle School, where a student has decided to stage a sit-in,” she says to the camera.
“Wow! Cool!” Esperanza says to me. We squeal and squeeze each other’s hands. On my Top Five Coolest Days Ever, I think today is number one.
At this point, the workmen shake their heads, grab their tools, and leave. They must not want to be on TV. Mr. Speck storms back to the school. As he goes, he waves his arms at the students who are coming to watch, shouting, “Nothing to see here! Nothing at all!”
Ms. Arple and the assistant principal whisper to one another. I think they are making a plan.
Clarissa Reckenbeck walks around the side of Bob’s pond and approaches us.
“Gosh, I should have worn rain boots today,” she says with a laugh, bending over where we’re sitting. “Now who organized this sit-in to protect a bird?” she asks, holding out her microphone.
At first I can barely speak. I mean, this is Clarissa Reckenbeck from TV I’m staring at! Her hair is even shinier and her teeth even whiter in person. But then I remember that this is what it’s all about. This is my chance to get attention for Bob. I clear my throat. “Um, I did,” I speak up, as loudly as I can. Is this really happening?! “It’s about a bird who’s living here. I—I named him Bob.”
“What about Bob?” she asks in a serious voice. I am impressed. Clarissa Reckenbeck’s serious voice is exactly like the one I’ve been trying to practice for months now.
“Well, he’s a Chinese painted quail. Far from home and very special. And this is where he’s been living. In Halsey yard. I just want the other students to be able to enjoy this stuff. The nature that’s here. And maybe the athletic equipment shed could go somewhere else?”
The cameraman points his camera at Bob.
“I think you must be very brave,” Clarissa says. We’re still on camera. “Who’s here with you today?”
“My Granddad and my best friend.” I smile.
So much happens after that: my mom comes to pick us up. Esperanza’s mom comes, looking worried. Mr. Speck stalks back out to the field to make more plans with Assistant Principal McCloud. And finally, I am home in my room, lying quietly with Ruby beside me. “What do you think will happen?” I ask her. Ruby just gives me a look like, “Duh, I’m a dog. I can’t help you with that.” Am I worried that I’m in BIG trouble? Well, a little. Mostly, I’m worried for Esperanza. Mom even said in the car, “Look, Kinsley, I know these kinds of things are your dream, but what about your friend?” I get it. She has a point. Truthfully, I never told Esperanza about my plans, though. When I finally fall asleep, I have a series of dreams. In some of them, Bob is living in happiness on a tropical island, surrounded by fruit trees. In another, I come across Esperanza in front of her locker, crying.
“Now I’ll never get to study the stars and planets!” she moans in the dream. “They’re kicking me out of school!”
Yeah, that dream sucks.
The next day I go with my mom and Granddad to meet with the assistant principal and Mr. Speck. When we sit across the table from them, Mr. McCloud slides a piece of paper across the desk at me. It’s one of my petition pages, except this time, it actually has names on it. Like, a LOT of names.
“Do you know anything about this?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I say, looking down. “That’s my petition to protect Bob—I mean the Chinese painted quail’s— habitat.”
“I see,” he says, folding his fingers together and rocking back in his chair. “It seems that your little . . . show yesterday got some people’s attention.” Good! I think to myself.
“I’ve been talking with Mr. Speck and your science teacher, and we’ve decided on a new plan. We’re going to build the athletic equipment shed behind the gym instead.”
Yes! I pump my fist under the table.
“And YOU will be in charge of maintaining the Halsey School Rare Bird Garden.”
“Is that—is that its name?” I can hardly believe it! But before I jump up to do a little jig of happiness next to McCloud’s desk, I think of my friend.
“What about my friend? Esperanza. None of this was her idea. I don’t want her to be in trouble.”
“Well, you BOTH need to make up the work you missed yesterday,” McCloud says sternly. “But, we at Halsey School can’t have news cameras around. That’s the last thing we need for the school to run smoothly. So. If you can maintain your park, I’m ready to forget about the whole thing.” I’m already turning to Granddad with a huge grin of triumph when McCloud adds, “But DON’T make this kind of thing a habit. You hear?”
“No, I won’t! I promise!” I notice that the assistant principal has his own pretty goldfish in a bowl on his desk. Maybe he understands about nature after all.
“You were lucky,” mom says as she and Granddad put their coats back on. “I hope you’ll think about what the man said. Not everything is a protest.”
“Sure, sure,” I say, squeezing Granddad’s soft hand. His eyes shine back at me.
As I rush towards my locker, hoping to find Esperanza and hear her side of the story, my mind fills with ideas. I’ll have a bench right next to Bob’s pond, and I’ll plant tulips and maybe even a rhododendron bush. Anyone will be welcome to come and sit in the garden. You’ll be able to read on the bench, or lie back on the grass and look at the sky. I’ll line Bob’s pond with pretty stones. I can have Granddad help me. And, I’ll have a plaque, too. Yes! Right next to the bench. Shiny and made out of stainless steel or some other fancy material. It will say:
The Halsey School Rare Bird Garden:
Home of a Beloved Chinese Painted Quail