Operation Yes (18 page)

On the first day of school, Miss Loupe approached the left edge of the front row of her second-ever sixth-grade classroom with a roll of masking tape. As she crawled on the floor, she began calling their names. Some of them she already knew from theater camp a few weeks before.

 

Then the students studied pages 1–13 of the Student Handbook. They admired the funny drawings throughout the text, showing them How to Ride a Bus Safely (
That kid's trying to bring a cat on the bus!
) and Prohibited Modes of Transportation on School Grounds (
A tank! No tanks on the playground!
).

 

Later that week, they learned the “Yes, and …” game with the help of some prompts left by members of Room 208 the year before. They took the Ugly, Ugly Couch out for a row. They read to their Reading Buddies from Mr. Nix's first-grade classroom. And their Reading Buddies read to them, slowly and proudly, in Miss Candy's new Reading Castle.

 

Not long after, Miss Loupe's brother Marc visited them. Mrs. Purdy made corn muffins for him and the entire school. Marc showed them his artificial foot and told the story of his rescue. He let them look, with his sister's loupe, at the lightning bolt patch that he used to wear. He left a box for them to fill with ordinary things to send to Afghanistan. His unit was home, but another had taken its place.

 

And one day, Room 208 looked at the names on the bottom of the Ugly, Ugly Couch.

“Who are Bo and Gari?” said Max. “There, under those initials, LGM.”

“They were in the play last year,” said Trina. “Remember? And Trey and Melissa and Allison and Rick and Zac and Kylie and Martina and Aimee and Sanjay and Shaunelle and …” She read all the names under the couch.

“I wasn't here last year,” said Max. He picked up a tiny paper star that had fallen out of the cushions.

“Oh,” said Trina. “Well, our show will be awesome this year too, you know.”

 

Across the country in Tandi's guest bedroom in Seattle, Gari practiced the last lines of her speech in the mirror before bed:
Vote for Gari! Vote for Plan U (You)!
She'd already rehearsed it over the phone with her mom. She turned off the light and crawled under the comforter. Her mom would be home next week, and then she would finally be back in her own bed.

She lay there a minute, and then crept out to the computer in the living room. She sent Bo an e-mail of her entire speech, and ended it with:

 

You think anybody at SeaJA will vote for the new kid?

 

Bo wrote back from Korea.

 

Dunno. Want me to send the Flaming Farmer to buzz the halls for you?

 

She replied:

 

Flying Farmer, Bo. Didn't they teach you
anything
at your last school?

The Air Force base in this story isn't a real one; it's composed of memories from the many places I've lived and my own imagination. I chose North Carolina because it's a setting that I love, with people that I care about, and because the barbecue and the banana pudding are to die for.

 

The military community is diverse, with more detail and history and lore than I could possibly contain here. Each branch of service is different; each career field and time in service is unique. Make friends with a military family if you would like to learn more. If you are interested in helping wounded warriors, I suggest looking to the Fisher House Foundation, at
http://fisherhouse.org
.

 

Some of the improv exercises in this book are based upon ones used by The Second City.

Many thanks to my agent, Tina Wexler, who connected me to Arthur A. Levine Books, and believed in
Operation Yes
when it was but a new recruit. To Doris, who read this manuscript at a particularly low point in the battle. To my editor, Cheryl Klein, whom I trust and admire and would have sought out as a friend if she and I had been in Room 208 together. To Linda Lyle, who first taught me how to say yes. To my online community, who encouraged and instructed and inspired me. To Suzie, who showed me how to fall and kept me centered. To my children, Rebecca and Wade, who followed for years, and now lead. To Mike, who has always been sure of my place in the world, long before I was, and who read each draft as both a scholar and a warrior. I love you. To all those who serve, in classrooms and on battlefields, at home and abroad. To everyone I know who says YES each day.

 

The Nation that makes a great distinction between its scholars and its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools. —
Thucydides

In her own Plan A,
Sara Lewis Holmes
intended to become an actress, a diplomat, or a physicist. But then she met and married an Air Force pilot, and that launched Plan B: writing … and a lot of moving! She has lived in Alabama, New Mexico, Rhode Island, Mississippi, North Carolina, Germany, and Japan, scribbling poems and stories at every stop. Her first novel,
Letters from Rapunzel
, won the Ursula Nordstrom Fiction Contest. Sara now lives with her family in northern Virginia, where she looks forward to whatever Plan C might bring. Please visit her website at
www.saralewisholmes.com
.