“At eight in the morning on a Saturday?” Billy Frost said. “You’ve got to be kidding. I need my beauty sleep.” He laughed and a lot of kids joined in.
“I’m not kidding,” Jeannie said. “I’m serious. Eight o’clock is when the exterminators are going to kill the prairie dogs.” She looked out at the mass of bored or amused faces and realized just how hopeless the situation was. She shot a look at Mr. Donelson, but he said nothing.
“If any of you think you can come, let me know,” Jeannie said. “I’ve got some pamphlets here with information for anyone who wants them.” She walked back to her seat feeling awful, like a basketball, thrown hard, had just hit her in the stomach. These kids didn’t care. She’d seen two girls in the back passing notes while she was talking. What had made her think people would give up a Saturday morning to protest a poisoning?
“Class dismissed,” Mr. Donelson said.
As the kids beat a noisy exit, heading toward lunch, Jeannie stared hard at her desk. Fortunately, she was too mad to cry. When she finally glanced up, she was surprised to see Chester Hartung and Geoff Yegian both standing in front of her.
Chester’s big blue eyes looked serious behind his thick glasses. “I’d like one of those pamphlets,” he said. “And I’ll try to be there Saturday morning.”
“Me, too,” Geoff agreed. “Poisoning prairie dogs. I think that stinks.”
Jeannie could see the sparks of anger in Geoff’s eyes, which were almost as dark as the locks of hair that fell across his forehead. Silently she handed each of them a pamphlet and watched as they left the room.
Mary Jo, who’d been sitting quietly in her seat, came over. “Bummer,” she said, taking one of the pamphlets. “Can you believe that Bobby Watson? He’s got as much charm as his big brother, Ryan, who’ll probably emcee the Extravaganza and ruin it with his dumb jokes.”
As Jeannie and Mary Jo walked by Mr. Donelson’s desk, he said, “That was a great guest editorial you two wrote. And a fine picture, Mary Jo. I’m glad you got the Animal Defense Fund involved. They’re experienced in these things. Who knows? Maybe they can do something.”
Mr. Donelson walked out of the room with them. Jeannie hoped he’d say something like, “You can count on me being there on Saturday.” But he didn’t say a word before heading off to the teacher’s lounge.
Jeannie and Mary Jo went through the lunch line silently and sat at a partially empty table near the wall. The smell of tomato sauce was strong. Jeannie poked at her food. The menu announced it was Italian Delight, but she was far from delighted with the mound of pasta.
Mary Jo finally spoke up. “I know you’re feeling bad, and what I’m going to say will make you feel worse. But I’d better tell you now since I’m not going to be in school tomorrow. I won’t be at the protest Saturday morning.”
Jeannie’s mouth dropped open. “You won’t be there?”
Mary Jo looked miserable. “No, I won’t. It’s my birthday, remember? Karen’s only going to be here for the weekend, and we’ve got Saturday and Sunday jam-packed with everything we’re trying to squeeze in. I’m sorry.”
Jeannie wanted to say something sarcastic or something significant, but she couldn’t think of anything. She just stared at her best friend, feeling as though she’d been deserted.
“Okay,” Jeannie said, and stood up. “I’ve got an appointment with Mrs. Woodley, so I’ve got to run.” She didn’t even bother to ask Mary Jo if she wanted to come along. Instead, she left the cafeteria as fast as she could.
By the time she’d walked down the hall to Mrs. Woodley’s room, Jeannie was calm again. Mary Jo had her own priorities, and right now they didn’t match Jeannie’s.
“Sit down,” Mrs. Woodley invited when Jeannie walked into the room. She indicated a chair she had pulled up to her desk. As she spoke, she took off her reading glasses and brushed back a strand of her brown hair. “That was a great letter you and Mary Jo wrote, and I wondered what your next step would be.”
Quickly Jeannie filled her in on all that had happened. “I looked up the email addresses of the County Commissioners,” Jeannie said. “I want to write them tonight, and I hoped you might give me some pointers.”
Jeannie pulled out her notebook and pen, and wrote rapidly as Mrs. Woodley asked questions and suggested ideas. She explained that the City Council would also be involved because the new shopping center meant new taxes for the town. They’re the ones who would be dealing with Keelor Construction. They would want nothing to get in the way of growth. The County Commissioners were the ones who could provide open space land for a prairie dog colony. Both groups were highly political.
The bell signaling the next class rang all too quickly, as far as Jeannie was concerned, but now she had a plan.
“Thanks a million,” Jeannie said as she rushed to her next class.
Chapter Six
Before she left for school Friday morning, Jeannie gave her mother some money to buy Mary Jo’s birthday present at the bookstore where she worked. Mary Jo loved fantasies and had been oohing and aahing over a new title out in hardback, The Flickering Candle, but she was waiting for it to come out in paperback so she could afford to buy it. Jeannie wrote down the title and author to be sure her mother wouldn’t forget, and hurried to school.
As she walked along, she rehashed in her mind the letters she had emailed last night to the County Commissioners. Were they effective? Would there be a response?
Overnight Jeannie’s anger against Mary Jo had vanished. Jeannie knew that her friend was only being honest about her big birthday weekend. It wasn’t that Mary Jo didn’t care about prairie dogs. She just cared about her sister more.
It was Karen’s first visit home from college. Of course Mary Jo wanted to spend her birthday weekend shopping and laughing instead of picketing. Jeannie was eager to talk with Karen, too, and enlist her help in persuading Mary Jo to audition. And to tell the truth, Jeannie was feeling a little uneasy herself about the whole picketing scene.
Still thinking about her friend, Jeannie hurried to school. As usual, there was plenty of commotion around the bank of seventh grade lockers at George Washington Middle School. Kids were laughing and talking. All the noise made Jeannie feel strangely detached. She didn’t feel a part of these kids and their chatter after yesterday.
Am I really that different from everyone else? Why am I the only one in this school who cares that hundreds of prairie dogs are about to be killed? Am I some sort of radical freak putting animals above jobs?
Jeannie tried to cut through her thoughts and concentrate. She dialed the combination and jerked her locker open. She quickly picked out what she needed and then slammed the locker shut. She headed with the flow of students toward her first period math class.
It was only when Jeannie walked past the sign-up sheet outside the music room that it hit her like a bucket of ice water in the face. This was the last day to sign up for auditions, and Mary Jo wasn’t here! It wasn’t going to do any good to enlist Karen’s help in talking Mary Jo into overcoming her shyness to sing at the Extravaganza. Mary Jo’s name wouldn’t be on the list.
Jeannie found it hard to concentrate during math. In social studies class, she paused long enough at Mrs. Woodley’s desk to say, “I wrote the letters.”
Mrs. Woodley smiled at her.
In science class, Jeannie dropped into her seat without so much as a word to Mr. Donelson and counted the minutes until the period was over. She no longer felt comfortable around these kids who didn’t care what was happening to the prairie dogs.
When the bell rang at last, Jeannie was surprised when Geoff and Chester both came to her desk.
“I made my sign last night,” Geoff said, looking a little self-conscious as his honey brown skin flushed pink, and stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets.
“Me, too,” said Chester. “See ya tomorrow morning.”
Jeannie managed a smile and felt a little better. At least there’d be three of them in it together. Signs. Of course. She hadn’t even thought about hers.
Then Bobby Watson came up behind Jeannie as she was sliding out of her seat.
“Me and my brother will see you tomorrow, too,” Bobby whispered. He had a strange look on his face, and Jeannie wondered whether this was a promise or a threat.
She began to worry about what might happen tomorrow morning. On TV news, Jeannie had seen pickets and protests at other places. Sometimes they got ugly.
Jeannie walked alone to the lunchroom, found a vacant spot to sit, and picked at her food. The kids usually referred to the cafeteria as Crud Cafe, and today’s Sloppy Joes lived up to—or down to—that name.
Ryan Watson was sitting at the table right behind the one where Jeannie was sitting. As usual, he was talking loudly and was the center of attention. “Eat your hearts out,” he said to his friends. “On the night of the Extravaganza, yours truly will be testing his material for when they ask him to host the Academy Awards some year.”
“Oh, sure,” one of his buddies teased. “A star is born.”
Jeannie didn’t turn her head, but quietly she seethed. She had to admit to herself that Ryan was a good-looking boy. Great hair. Perfect teeth. Always laughing. But he never had anything to say and never had an original idea in his life. Jeannie was sure of that. Why should a no-talent show off like Ryan Watson be in the spotlight while someone like Mary Jo wouldn’t even get to audition for the show?
The longer Ryan clowned, the angrier Jeannie grew. When one of his buddies gave Ryan a playful shove, he half-fell into the girl next to Jeannie, sending spilled milk across the table and into Jeannie’s lap. Furious, Jeannie stood, looking at the mess he’d made. It may have been an accident, or it may have been on purpose. With Ryan, you never knew.
Jeannie wordlessly stalked out of the cafeteria, aware of the laughter behind her. She went to the girls’ room and wiped off the worst of the milk from her jeans and blouse with a wet paper towel. While she stood in the stream of warm air from the hand dryer, she made her decision. Instead of going back to the lunchroom, Jeannie went to her locker, grabbed a pen, and hurried down the hall to the music room.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was around and listened to be certain no one was inside the room about to come bursting out and discover her. Jeannie heard nothing but her own heart beating loudly. She hesitated, but only for a moment. She scrawled ‘Mary Jo Matthews’ at the bottom of the list of names of those auditioning for the Extravaganza and checked the box for vocal solo.
There! For better or for worse, Mary Jo’s name was on the audition list, and Jeannie had committed forgery.
__________
The next morning, Jeannie picked up her sign and looked at it critically. Printed boldly in red magic marker across what was once the bottom half of a white cardboard box were the words “Save the Prairie Dogs.” She had stapled this firmly to an old plastic fly swatter. Not elegant, she admitted to herself, but the message was clear.
“They can’t miss your message,” her father said, and smiled. “Good luck!”
Jeannie’s mother looked worried, but all she said was, “I hope everything goes well, dear.” And she gave Jeannie a hug.
Jeannie left the house and headed for the bus stop, where she didn’t have long to wait. The bus driver gave Jeannie a funny look when he noticed the sign as she climbed on, but he didn’t say anything.
As soon as Jeannie jumped off the bus in Longview, she hurried across the street to the huge empty field that would eventually be a bustling business park. In the distance were some of Colorado’s most beautiful mountains. But Jeannie had no time to spend on admiring them today. Several panel trucks were parked in the field. On the side of each was lettered, “Pests Be Gone, Exterminators.”
Jeannie tried to take in the whole scene at once. First she spied Betsy Keasley. Behind her were about eight people that she must have recruited. They all carried signs with slogans that were definitely pro-prairie dog. Off to one side at some distance, a small group of men in blue overalls talked in low voices to a man in a business suit. Based on the picture she’d seen earlier in the newspaper, Jeannie was pretty sure he was Mark Hathaway.
There was already a small crowd. As she hiked into the middle of the field, Jeannie caught a shouted question: “Since when did these varmints get more important than men trying to work and support their families?”
The shouter stood almost nose-to-nose with Betsy. Jeannie didn’t recognize the man, but she knew the boys standing on either side of him, Ryan and Bobby Watson. The man held a crudely lettered sign that read “Up with jobs. Down with prairie dogs.”
Jeannie felt a sudden lurch in her stomach, like the feeling you get when an elevator comes to a sudden stop.
Betsy was keeping her cool. “It’s not an either/or situation,” she said calmly. “No one is trying to stop the business park from being built or prevent you from working on it. We just want the prairie dogs relocated to a new home first.”
“What kind of ‘home’ do you suppose they have in mind?” Ryan Watson asked his brother in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone. “A split level or a ranch?”
Typical Ryan Watson humor, Jeannie thought to herself. No wonder Mary Jo didn’t want to sing in an Extravaganza that he emceed. And with a pang, she remembered the forged signature. How would Mary Jo react when she found out?
A car pulled away from the curb across the field. Two boys hurried toward the crowd. As they got closer, Jeannie could see it was Geoff and Chester. She felt a surge of relief. They did come after all!
Then two Longview police vehicles arrived. They lurched up over the curb and drove right to the middle of the field. They parked, and four uniformed officers climbed out, guns bulging at their hips.
Jeannie looked out at the field trying to see prairie dogs, but didn’t spot any. Not that she was surprised. With cars and trucks and shouting people, sensible animals would be hiding in their burrows. Even as she had this thought, Jeannie suddenly saw the head of a prairie dog pop up out of a hole about a hundred feet away. He reminded her of Whistler from Willow Creek. Jeannie felt a lump in her throat. Apparently this little risk taker was too curious to miss taking a peek.
The man Jeannie figured was Mark Hathaway approached the police officers and pointed toward the group gathered around Betsy. The officers listened for a moment, nodded, and then headed toward the cluster of people.
By now, Jeannie was walking up to join the Animal Defense Fund supporters, and Geoff and Chester came and stood beside her.
“What happens now?” Chester asked.
“I don’t know,” Jeannie said. “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”
She glanced at Chester’s sign. It read, “Relocate the Prairie Dogs.” Each letter was neat and precise. Geoff’s sign was lettered unevenly and said, “Live and Let Live.” She held her own sign up proudly, and at that moment noticed a newspaper reporter snapping pictures.
One of the police officers addressed the group. “Could I have your attention, please? I’m Officer Brannon, and I need to ask all of you people to move off the field. This is private property belonging to Keelor Construction, and you folks are in the way.”
“In the way of what?” came an angry voice from the Animal Defense Fund ranks. “Of poisoning?”
The officer glanced toward the speaker but looked unruffled. Clearly this was not his first time at a protest demonstration. “That’s right. Construction’s going to start here on Monday morning, and before that can happen, the prairie dogs need to be exterminated. Keelor Construction has the appropriate permits, and a licensed exterminating service is here on the job. So I’m asking you folks to move off this private land. Now.” He emphasized the last word.
Jeannie looked at Ryan
and Bobby Watson. They stood near Mark Hathaway. Bobby looked worried and Ryan wore a self-satisfied smile. Between them, their father folded his arms across his chest and watched with a grin on his face.
“This is a democracy,” another Animal Defense picketer shouted.
“Right,” the officer agreed. “And in a democracy, we respect private property. So I’m asking you to get off this field which isn’t yours.”
“Where’s the respect for the prairie dogs that live here?” Jeannie surprised herself by shouting. She saw Chester shoot her a startled look.
Mark Hathaway had joined the group now, and he spoke smoothly. “We’ve tried to find some place to relocate these animals, without success. The County Commissioners were asked to designate some open space land for their new homes. But we’ve had no response from them. And, although I’m very sorry to have to take this step, we can’t wait any longer. We have men hired to begin work on Monday morning.”
“Right on,” shouted Mr. Watson, and he shook his fist in the air. “We have the right to work.”
“Now, move off,” said the police officer. His voice contained a touch of menace this time. “If you don’t, we’re going to have to arrest you folks for trespassing, and none of us want that.”
Arrest? Oh my gosh, Jeannie thought. Things are getting out of hand. Her heart pounded.
Betsy turned to the Animal Defense supporters and they gathered in what looked like a football huddle. “You people spread out and ring the field,” she said. “I’ll sit down right here and get arrested. The rest of you can stand on the edge of the property and watch. There’s no point in all of us getting dragged off to jail when just one person can make the point. We don’t want to leave them a clear field where they can do their dirty work. We need this development company to know that people are watching and disapproving of their every move.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s about all we can do.”
Stand Up and Whistle Page 5