earthgirl (10 page)

“Thanks,” I beamed as I saw the eye-popping never-before-seen mark at the top of the page beside my name. “It made sense considering our history of pollution since the Industrial Revolution.”

“Timely and urgent without histrionics, well done,” he nodded. “I also like your ideas for small contributions we can all make toward solving this crisis.”

I sat proudly at my desk electrified by the compliments.
Who knew there were side benefits to my eco-interests, like actually doing better-than-okay in school?!

My smoocherific boyfriend would be so pleased. He was so helpful pointing me toward excellent reference sources. He was so clever. It was very sexy. And inspiring. And intense. Oh, and did I mention sexy?

“So what's the deal on Be Green Day,” the normally elusive and reclusive Shane McCardle asked as we left Sarrazin's class, marking the second time he'd talked to me since The Incident.

Be Green Day was the me-initiated effort to promote and increase recycling on school grounds, build awareness of excessive excess, culminating in a garbage gathering jaunt along the beltway trail through the middle of the city. It was mere days away and I was amped to the max.

“Just my way of giving back by taking back,” I said, feeling a tad suspicious that Shane's sudden interest was a cruel joke. Or that he was just making some ironic stoner comment.

“Cool, but next time you might think about doing it in the spring instead,” he said, faking a shiver.

“Didn't you know? With global warming November is the new April,” I joked, only then realizing that spring actually would have been better.

“Funny girl,” he said, nodding and gliding away down the hall like an apparition of some exotic tribe.

As he disappeared, the defensiveness and tension I'd been holding in my neck and shoulders escaped like a sigh. It appeared that some people actually did give a hoot about
my ideas. People like Shane. Which shouldn't have surprised me since he was at Vray's concert and it definitely couldn't have been for the music.

Finally, despite the sniggers and groans after the morning PA announcement, a small rally of support. And with Shane McCardle's high-level recognition and awe factor, things were certainly looking up.

•••

At lunch Carmen and Ella descended on me like vultures with uncharacteristically blank expressions. They each looped an arm through mine and led me out of the school.

“What's up? We going for Thai?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” Carmen said.

“Cause Thai food would be a great way to celebrate my brilliant A plus!” I bragged. “Sushi works, too. Just not tuna, too much mercury.”

“We're not celebrating your grades,” Ella said sternly. “But congrats anyway.”

“Don't encourage her,” Carmen huffed.

I braked and yanked my arms from theirs as we hit the sidewalk at the edge of the schoolyard.

“What's going on?” I asked. “You're freaking me out here.”

“We're freaking you out?” Carmen said. “Little Miss Birkenstock-sock-face says we're freaking her out?”

“It's an intervention,” Ella nodded.

“This is a joke, right?”

“It's not, Bean,” Ella answered solemnly.

“We begged you to stop all the sky-is-falling crap, but you're like Chicken Little running around screaming after
he got pinged with a pine cone,” Carmen said in a tone that managed to sound oddly preachy, well-informed, judgmental, mean and loving at the same time.

“But the sky
is
falling,” I answered calmly. “In a way.”

“Were you pinged by a pine cone?” Ella parted my hair and examined my scalp for a second before I shook her free. “You could use a color touch, sweetie. Gnarly rootage.”

“I don't care. Hair color is full of toxic chemicals,” I said, flicking her hands away. “And my vanity isn't worth killing the planet for.”

“She's doing it again,” Ella said, shaking her head. “It's worse than you thought.”

“Seriously Sabine, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you're getting...” Carmen paused for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “Tedious. You're seriously tedious so stop it already. Stop it last week.”

“You are.” Ella nodded like a bobblehead. “Seriously tedious.”

“We tried to be patient and let you blather it out of your system, but it keeps getting worse,” Carmen continued, as if the knife needed to be dug in deeper and cranked.

“You used to be fun,” Ella added. “Now you act like a teacher or a mom or something...not fun.”

“Look, we realize this seems harsh,” Carmen said, acting suddenly kind. “But between raising money for homeless people, writing to the UN about Darfur, trying to get good marks and have boyfriends, we're exhausted. We can't take on every fritchin' cause, plus we don't want to. We're your best friends and if we didn't say it, who would?”

“Yeah and it's still early enough to make some new friends if you want,” Ella offered helpfully.

“Not that we're trying to ditch you, cause we're not,” Carmen intercepted. “What El's trying to say is we love you a ton, well, we love the old you, so can you ask the alien abductors to please bring her back?”

Which if you think about it was a really odd thing to say since I was standing right there in front of them. Talking to them and with them. Or maybe from the way they saw it, talking
at
them.

I felt completely winded. I didn't know what to say. So for the first time in eons, I said nothing. I just nodded and smiled a sad little smile. My two very best and oldest friends were attacking what was the new core of my very being. And they thought they were doing me a favor!

“So?” Carmen stood there with her hands on her hips. “Aren't you going to say anything?”

“No,” I shrugged. “It's pretty clear you aren't interested in what I have to say.”

“That's not what we're saying,” Ella backpedaled.

Carmen let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, but it doesn't have to be like this.”

“It's okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering and clasping my clammy hands together behind my back so they wouldn't see them shake. “I get it. It's all overwhelming. You need to make choices. I hear you and it's cool.”

If Carmen and Ella actually thought this childish, crappy intervention idea was going to change my mind about things that were life and death important to me now, they
were wrong. If they expected me to sacrifice the entire planet for our friendship, I guess they didn't value the planet as much as I did. Or value me and my new values. And I guess their friendship didn't mean as much to me as it once did.

I turned and started walking down the hallway. I was so tempted to look back, but knew that would be a huge mistake. And I'd probably lose what tiny fragment of composure and dignity I was managing to hang on to.

It was confounding and strange. Not to mention profoundly sad. The end of an era. But the farther away I moved, the lighter I actually felt.

e a r t h g i r l
the reason of voice
[ Nov. 16th | 4:44pm ]
[ mood | misunderstood ]
[ music | Bulletproof I wish I was... — Radiohead ]

Now I understand how poor Joan of Arc must have felt. Well, except for the hearing voices part.

Though if you stop to consider this venue, everyone who posts here is a kind of voice. A voice that I Sabine of North Toronto hear, but a lot of other people are incapable of hearing. Or just ignore. :(

Maybe this is just the modern equivalent of hearing voices. And maybe I'm just bracing for battles that will be won. Hope so.

It would suck to sacrifice so much and gain so little.

link                                                                               read 4 | post
www.earthcare.org

lacklusterlulu 11-16 10:57
Um earthgirlfriend, the way I learned it, little soldier Joanie heard the voice of, well...you know – the BIG GAL. I'm flattered you consider us in that realm but we're really just like you – small voices in the big wilderness while there still is a wilderness.

earthbound01 11-17 10:36
Not to mention large suckage being burned at the stake. So what if they admit they goofed, yer still toast.

“Check this,” Clare said, dancing around the kitchen with a shiny new turquoise toxic-spewing supermop contraption.

“A regular mop does the same thing,” I snapped. Despite my repeated pleas, improved grades and general fabulousness, my stupid family still behaved like environmental heathens.

“Doesn't do this,” Clare answered flipping it up and shoving it in my face to show off the dust bunnies, hair clumps and icky food detritus stuck to the disposable diaper-like pad. “Just like the commercials say!”

“Finally, truth in advertising,” Mom said, stepping in and unclipping the grotty pad to replace it with a fresh, crispy clean one.

“I can't believe this,” I half sighed, half ranted.

“Me either. Clare's never cleaned anything in her life,” Mom said, kissing her on the forehead. “It's truly a miracle of modern innovation.”

“No,” I said forcefully. “That you buy into all this supposed timesaving earth-wrecking crap. What's the use of saving time if we don't have any left?”

“Look, sweetie, I'm sorry your green enviro thing at school isn't setting the world on fire, but in case you forgot, I'm the boss around here and I happen to like, no
love
the supermop. A lot!”

“Is it really asking so much to use environmentally friendly cleaners?”

“Not if you clean the house,” she snapped. “In case you hadn't noticed, I have a full-time job, two demanding teenage girls and a husband who expect me to do everything around here.”

“That's not fair. I help out, I empty the dishwasher, I clean my room, I shovel snow, I'm a good daughter,” I said, defending my efforts which somehow didn't sound as lofty when I listed them off like that.

“Okay, Sabine, I'm trying to be supportive, but I've had enough,” Mom sighed. “If it's not the food I buy, it's the fridge or antibacterial soap that's bad. Would you please give it a rest already.”

“Antibacterial soap is bull. It causes more problems and diseases because we need bacteria and it's stupid to pretend otherwise. It's been on the news. Ask your husband the dentist. He makes a living from bacteria.”

“And I'm going to pretend that the old sweet cooperative Sabine Olivia Solomon still lives here rather than this new royal pain in the ass,” Mom snapped, marching off with the mop like an army general. “I sure hope you don't go off on your friends like this.”

Ouch.

Clare shrugged, rolled her eyes and stuck her pocky pink tongue out at me. I went to grab it the way we used to when we were kids, but she sucked it back into her mouth before I could. Then she marched after Mom like a stupid lemming. Hurling themselves off the cliff onto the rocky garbage-strewn shores below. Splat, splat, crunch, splat.

And here I was standing at the top of the mountain looking out over the land and the sea trying to enjoy the view.

Alone.

e a r t h g i r l
[ Nov. 18th | 10:01pm ]
[ mood | dazzled ]
[ music | Snowblink — Oh My Avalanche]

I must direct you to a super cool site. THE RUCKUS SOCIETY!!! It's an incredible resource for active, engaging, nonviolent protest action — like scaling buildings to hang giant banners (that aren't selling products!!!) Imagine!

They have something called ACTION CAMP. I mean seriously forget *band camp* or regular sleepaway camp. They teach you to climb things and organize rallies.

Sadly, it's highly doubtful the units will sign the necessary documentation for me to attend in the near near future. But I'm softening ‘em up. okay trying. And failing that, when the clock strikes — 18! — I'm so there!!! Watch for the earthgirl repelling/rappelling (sp?) from a building near you soon.

link                                                                                     read 4 | post
www.ruckus.org

lorax 11-18 23:58
Too bad the Truffula trees didn't have future ruckus campers like you. I'd never have had to leave my lovely forest. Darn the needs for Thneeds indeed. wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lorax

Besides the co-op, my relationship with Vray was about the only redeeming thing I had going on. And since my new quest was to be the best me possible, how could that not include being an awesome GF and all that entailed?

So it was with great glee and surprise that I emerged through the funky gloom and saw a mountain to conquer. Well, metaphorically, anyway, since it was actually a fake one at the indoor rock climbing gym.

Hard to believe my striving-to-be-hip mother had first suggested such a rad plan last March break. At the time I hadn't paid much attention, mainly because Carmen and Ella scoffed when I threw it out there, convincing me to join them for a pointless shopping romp and an all-the-rage gross-out sweaty yoga class instead.

Suddenly, an introductory climbing course seemed like a great way to spend another co-op-less Saturday afternoon now that I had an abundance of friend-free time and a boyfriend to adore and impress.

“The weekend doesn't work,” Vray said later on the phone when I suggested we take it together.

We spent a lot of time on the phone when we weren't together, which was sadly too often since he went to Jarvis Collegiate, a cool downtown high school. Plus he only talked on landlines because he found the cell's “voodoo monitoring, constant upgrades and enforced obsolescence an obscene aspect of our consumer-mad disposable culture.” And he only occasionally wrote emails plus wasn't into IM-ing. He preferred using online time for serious research.