Dawn Saves the Planet Read online

  Hannie turned to Stacey. “Do you have a green magic marker?”

  Stacey found one while I explained the rest of the assignments.

  “The school has loaned us their button-making machine so Karen, Andrew, and Suzi will make Think Green and My Kids Care buttons, and sell them to the parents in the neighborhood.”

  “Yay!” Andrew and Suzi cheered.

  “Bill and Buddy will be in charge of the wild animal booth.”

  “What’s that?” Bill asked.

  “You’re going to show people how to save the animals. I want you guys to cut out pictures from magazines and make a collage of endangered species.”

  Bill and Buddy whispered to each other for a few moments. Finally Buddy declared, “We like that booth. But we would also like to sell something because I’m a good salesman.”

  Stacey and I had to think fast on that one. “What about those birdhouses?” she suggested.

  The week before, the kids had made birdhouses out of milk cartons and decorated them.

  “Great idea!” I said.

  “My mom really liked the one I brought home,” Bill said.

  “We’ll make millions of birdhouses,” Buddy cried, hopping around the room in excitement, “and millions of dollars!”

  “Ten birdhouses would probably be enough,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “But you two make as many as you can.”

  Stacey checked the list to see what was left. “We also have several demonstration booths,” she said. “That’s where we’ll show the results of our experiments.”

  “You mean, we’re going to let people look at our buried treasures that we dug up last week?” Karen Brewer wrinkled her nose. “Some of that stuff is rotten.”

  “It’s supposed to be,” I explained. “You see, the lettuce leaves and the apple core are decaying and becoming part of the earth.”

  “Does anybody remember what had happened to the Styrofoam and plastic wrap when we dug them up?” Stacey asked.

  “I do,” David Michael replied. “Nothing. They just got dirty.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Because they aren’t biodegradable. Which means that Styrofoam and plastic are really bad for our earth.”

  “I think Linny and David Michael should work this booth,” Stacey said. “One of you could explain our projects to the visitors, while the other one points out the results of our experiments.”

  The two boys gave each other a high five, then proceeded to argue about who would do the talking and who would do the pointing.

  “Next we’ll have a letter writing booth,” I said, smiling at the Pike kids. “I’m putting Nicky and Vanessa in charge of that one, since the letters they wrote to our world leaders were so good.”

  Nicky stuck out his lower lip. “If my letter was so good, how come the President hasn’t written me back? I check the mailbox every day.”

  Stacey took Nicky’s hand. “The President is a very busy man. He barely has time to read his letters, let alone answer them. But I’m sure he liked yours, especially since you sent him your picture.”

  “You really think so?” Nicky asked.

  “I’m sure of it.” Stacey gave him a quick hug and then stood up. “All right. Everyone break into groups, and start working on your projects. When you’re —”

  “Not so fast,” I said, cutting Stacey off. “First I want to know how many of you called your friends to find out if their families recycle?”

  Only two kids raised their hands — Bill and Melody Korman. I shook my head. “I’m really disappointed in the rest of you. How can we save the planet if you can’t even make one phone call?”

  The kids who only moments before had big smiles on their faces, hung their heads and stared at the carpet.

  “Now next week, when I ask this question,” I said, “I want every single one of you to raise your hand. Will you do that?” I waited till they nodded, then said, “Good. Now let’s get to work.”

  When the class was over, and the kids were getting ready to go home, Claudia approached Stacey and me.

  “You guys are incredible,” she said. “You look like real pros. No wonder Charlotte is so excited about this class. If there’s anything I can do to help your fair, just let me know.”

  “Well … there is one thing,” I said.

  “Name it,” Claudia said.

  “Would you mind designing some fliers that we can hand out at school? We’d love to have your artistic touch.”

  Stacey looked at me in surprise. “But I thought we were going to ask the kids to do that.”

  I rolled my eyes and whispered, “We were. But if we can get a real artist like Claudia to do them, they’ll look professional and more people will come.”

  Stacey gave me a funny look, then shrugged. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s what we both want. Isn’t it?”

  “I guess so.” She sighed.

  I couldn’t believe her response. Stacey hardly sounded interested in the project at all.

  “You guys?” Claudia looked a little embarrassed to have overheard us. “Look, I don’t want to interfere. Maybe it would be better if the kids made the fliers.”

  “No!” I practically shouted. “I want you to do the work. They’ll look better.”

  Claudia glanced from me to Stacey and said, “Okay. Would you mind if I asked Charlotte to help me?”

  That made Stacey smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Claudia.”

  Charlotte liked the idea a lot, too. On the walk back to her house, she chattered about it nonstop.

  “I’m so glad you’re going to help us save the world, Claudia,” she said. “We really need you.”

  Claudia was still feeling inspired from the class. She wrapped her arm around Charlotte’s shoulder and hugged her. “I’m glad I can help. This is a wonderful project.”

  The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon working on designs for the flier. Charlotte thought they should start with a picture of the earth in the center. Then Claudia suggested they draw a line of kids holding hands that ringed the globe. They agreed to cut the shapes of the earth and children out of construction paper, then glue them onto a white background.

  “We can cut the letters out of ads in magazines,” Claudia suggested after they’d finished with the construction paper. “That will make the flier look like a crazy quilt.”

  “Oooh!” Charlotte clapped her hands together excitedly. “That would be really cool.”

  By the time Dr. Johanssen arrived home, Claudia and Charlotte were finished. They proudly displayed their design to Charlotte’s mother, who said, “This class has been the best thing to happen to Charlotte in a long time. I can’t remember when she’s been so excited about something.”

  Claudia nodded so hard her earrings (which were made of paper clips and sequins and ribbon) bounced. “It’s even gotten me excited,” she said. “Dawn and Stacey have really done a great job.”

  That night Claud intended to call Stacey and me to congratulate us, but Stacey called her first.

  “Dawn is driving me crazy!” Stacey complained the second Claud answered.

  “What are you talking about?” Claudia said as she propped up her bed pillows and leaned back against them. She fumbled behind the headboard for the bag of Mallomars she’d stashed there. She had a feeling this was going to be a long call (and she was right).

  “You saw how she acted today,” Stacey said. “Didn’t you notice anything unusual?”

  “Well, she did seem a little bossy at times.”

  “A little!” Stacey shouted into the phone. “She barely let me finish a sentence.”

  “Well, maybe that’s her way of showing how excited she is about the project,” Claud said diplomatically.

  “It’s her way of showing everyone that she’s right and I’m wrong. She acts as if she was the first person to discover pollution.”

  “Whoa,” Claud said, taking a bite of her Mallomar, “I didn’t realize you
were so upset.”

  “It’s been building up for the past few weeks,” Stacey admitted. “In the beginning, we divided up what we had to do but now she insists on being in charge of everything.”

  “Have you talked to her about it?”

  “I’ve tried,” Stacey said. “But every time I start to say something, she changes the subject by pointing out some mistake I’ve made, like using a paper napkin instead of a cloth one.”

  Claud tore open a second Mallomar. “We all agree that Dawn has gone kind of overboard about ecology, but you shouldn’t let it get to you. I mean, how bad can it be?”

  “Well, to tell you the truth,” Stacey said in a sad voice, “if I didn’t feel so committed to the kids in our class, I would probably just quit and do another project for Mrs. Gonzalez.”

  Claudia gulped down a big bite. “It’s that serious?”

  “It’s that serious,” Stacey confided. “And I’m afraid that if something doesn’t change soon, it’s going to ruin my friendship with Dawn. Permanently.”

  “May I have your attention, please? This is Dawn Schafer. Today I want to talk to you about a very important subject — recycling.”

  Mr. Kingbridge had let me make a speech over the school’s PA system during homeroom announcements. I felt weird talking into a microphone, and knowing that every kid in school was listening. I might have felt nervous, too, but I had written my speech down, so all I had to do was read it.

  I told everyone about the need for a recycling center, and why SMS was the perfect location. Then I finished with a challenge.

  “I want every student at SMS to stand up and show you care. How can you do that? By casting your vote for a recycling center and volunteering to help run it. Because, if you don’t care about our planet — who will?”

  Questionnaires were to be handed out after my speech to every student in each homeroom. Mr. Kingbridge had drawn them up himself. Then he got on the microphone and told everyone how to fill them out. “Don’t sign your names,” he added. “This is a general survey to find out your interest and willingness to participate in the recycling program designed by Dawn Schafer.”

  The last question in the survey asked the students to name an appropriate chairperson for the recycling project. My name was listed first. Then came Mrs. Gonzalez’s name, and finally a blank space marked, Other, please specify.

  The questionnaires were collected by the teachers and turned into the office. I was a nervous wreck waiting for the results. I talked to Kristy and Mary Anne about it at lunchtime.

  “It’s taking an awfully long time for them to figure out the results,” I worried.

  “Are you afraid they won’t pick you as chairperson?” Kristy asked, sliding her tray onto the table next to mine.

  “No, of course not,” I replied. “It’s my idea. Why wouldn’t they pick me? I’m afraid they’ll vote against the project.”

  “I’m sure everyone’ll go for it,” Mary Anne said. “It’s a great idea. Why wouldn’t they want to do it?”

  I opened my milk carton and took a long sip. “I’m worried that half the students don’t know what recycling is.”

  “Oh, they know about it,” Claudia said, laughing, as she joined us at the table. “Every square inch of this school is covered with posters.”

  “That’s right,” Kristy said. “And every student got your newsletter in homeroom.”

  Mary Anne dipped her spoon into her bowl of tomato soup. “And I know for a fact that you have given your speech to every student who has walked through the front doors of this school.”

  “That must be why everyone is using the back entrance,” Claudia joked. “They’re afraid they’ll hear Dawn’s lecture again.”

  “If they don’t know about recycling, they’d have to be deaf and blind,” Kristy concluded.

  I nibbled on a carrot stick. “I hope you’re right. I’m just worried that nobody cares enough to make it happen. Let’s face it, most of the kids here are pretty apathetic.”

  “Well, you’ve done your part.” Mary Anne patted my arm. “You’ve told them about your program. You can’t make people care. That’s up to them.”

  “I know, I know.” I held up my crossed fingers. “Let’s just hope they do.”

  Stacey hadn’t said anything during our lunch conversation, which was a little weird. But she’d been that way a lot lately. I figured she had other worries on her mind. Like her big test in history. But just as lunch ended, she said, “They’ll vote for the recycling center so don’t think about it.” I was about to say thanks, when she added, “There are much bigger problems you should be worrying about.”

  Before I could ask Stacey what she meant, the bell rang and she hurried out of the lunch room.

  Mr. Kingbridge stopped me in the hall on the way to my next class. “Dawn, the office staff is tallying the votes. We should have the results by the end of the day.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Kingbridge,” I said, after the butterflies in my stomach calmed down. “I hope it’s good news.”

  “Me, too,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “Me, too.”

  I could barely concentrate in my next classes. All I could think about was the hard work I’d already put into the recycling program. I’d made phone calls, tacked up posters, typed up the newsletter — I’d even written notes to all of the club presidents and made a speech at a student council meeting. Mary Anne was right. There was really nothing more I could do.

  During the last hour of the day I sat at my desk with my hands clasped tightly in front of me. My heart was beating so loudly I barely heard a word my teacher was saying. Then, five minutes before the end of class, Mr. Kingbridge’s voice came crackling over the loudspeaker.

  “May I have your attention, please? Your attention, please.”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened attentively.

  “I am very pleased to announce the results of this morning’s questionnaire.”

  My heart started pounding a mile a minute. This sounded like good news but I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.

  “By an overwhelming majority, the students of Stoneybrook Middle School have indicated that they would like to host Stoneybrook’s new recycling center.”

  Cheers rang out from the students around the room but no one was cheering louder than me. In fact, I was shouting so loudly I barely heard the rest of the announcement.

  “And as their leader for this project, the students have selected … Mrs. Estelle Gonzalez.”

  The smile on my face froze. I blinked several times. Had I heard correctly?

  “So all those interested in helping to start Stoneybrook Middle School’s recycling program,” Mr. Kingbridge continued, “please sign up with Mrs. Gonzalez.”

  I had heard correctly. The students had voted for Mrs. Gonzalez, not me.

  The cheering tapered off into excited talking. Amelia Freeman, who sat in front of me, turned around and gave me a sympathetic look. I tried to act nonchalant.

  “I’m sure the students chose Mrs. Gonzalez because they wanted someone older to head this important project,” I said to her. “Of course, Mrs. Gonzalez will use me as the student representative.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Amelia said with an encouraging smile.

  The more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me. Of course the students would want Mrs. Gonzalez to head the recycling center. After all, she was an adult, and that might make lots of things easier for us. Recycling companies and city officials would probably feel better dealing with a teacher than with a student.

  By the time I reached my locker after school, I had almost recovered from the blow of not being elected. Then I made the mistake of getting a drink from the water fountain. Two girls, whose voices I recognized as those of Cokie Mason and Grace Blume, were talking just around the corner and I overheard every word they said.

  “I’m glad the recycling program is going to happen here,” Grace said. “I voted for it. Did yo
u?”

  “Yeah,” Cokie answered. “But I didn’t vote for Dawn Schafer to run it.”

  “Me, neither. She’s been so obnoxious, acting like none of us have any brains.”

  “No kidding. I heard Mrs. Gonzalez won by a landslide.”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  Cokie giggled and added, “I bet the only people in this whole school who voted for Dawn are her friends in that baby-sitting club.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. People thought I was obnoxious! And not just a few, either. It sounded as if the whole school hated me.

  I had never felt so humiliated in my entire life. All I wanted to do was hide. I waited until Cokie and Grace had gone, and then I raced into the girls’ bathroom. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing anyone. I intended to wait there until all the kids at school had gone home.

  When I reached the bathroom I looked at myself in the mirror and burst into tears. They poured down my cheeks but I didn’t even try to stop them. Now I knew what Stacey had meant when she told me I had bigger things to worry about. First I felt hurt, then I felt ashamed, then I felt angry that my fellow students could’ve done this to me. All I had wanted was to do something good. And this was the thanks I got.

  I stood in the bathroom for at least half an hour crying. By the time I left, my eyes were puffy and red, but I was too miserable to care.

  “Dawn, hurry!” Mary Anne shouted from downstairs. “We’re going to be late for the opening ceremonies.”

  It was Saturday, the official opening day for the Stoneybrook Middle School Recycling Center. The band was going to play while Mrs. Gonzalez cut the big red ribbon that had been strung across the row of recycling bins in the parking lot. Then the mayor of Stoneybrook would give a speech.

  “I’m coming,” I shouted as I ran a brush through my hair one last time.

  I had been standing in front of the mirror for forty-five minutes, trying to fix my hair. I’d pulled it into a ponytail on the side, then a French braid down the center of my back, but nothing looked right. Finally I just let it fall straight past my shoulders. I don’t know why I was worrying so much about my appearance. I wasn’t even going to be involved in the ceremony.