Olivia pauses. “Well, actually we weren’t there when they sent the police in. Cash said it was better that we didn’t get arrested, you know — let the foot soldiers take the fall so we could still be around to lead the second wave. But I watched from down the street and it looked so cool!”
“Did anyone get hurt? Those riots always look crazy on TV.” I can’t believe this.
“That’s only because they orchestrate the whole thing!” Olivia exclaims. “I mean, they’ve got to paint us all as dangerous criminals so nobody listens to the message, the truth. They plant people in the crowd to stir up trouble and then blame us for everything!”
“Umm, who are ‘they’?”
“The establishment,” Olivia explains in a “Well, duh!” voice. “Corporations, the police, government. They’re all in on it together — protecting their stock prices and consumerist society. Because if for one moment, people actually woke up and started paying attention to what’s really happening in the world . . .”
I keep pedaling, my unease growing. This isn’t Green Teen talk anymore; this is different. Fiercer. I’ve heard snatches of it before, from kids on the fringe of the protests: the ones who show up just as an excuse to scream at teachers and the cops. But we always steered clear of those kinds of troublemakers — they were just in it to cause a scene. Right?
“. . . and it doesn’t matter who’s president, because they’re all tied to special interests and —”
“Look!” I gladly interrupt. “Here were are, Main Street, Stillwater, in all its glory. So where do you want to start?” I ask brightly, hoping to stem the tide of anti-capitalist ranting. “We’ve got the thrilling map-center-slash-bookstore here.” Waving my hands like a spokesmodel, I hop off my bike and lead her down the sidewalk. “Home to an extensive array of trashy romance novels. And there’s a raccoon that likes to nest in the back there, too.” I turn. “Or there’s the gas station, with two whole different kinds of gas and a slushie machine. I can recommend the raspberry.”
Olivia looks around slowly. She seems almost disappointed. “I didn’t think it would be so built up.”
I snort. “Are you kidding?”
She shrugs, pushing the bike along. “I just mean there’s all this concrete. I guess it’s inevitable; the capitalist industrial machine crushes everything in its path.”
“Yes,” I say slowly. We’re in the middle of a vast, tree-covered valley, and all she can see are the few buildings that are here?
“I don’t know. I guess when you talked about how remote it was, I just pictured . . . log cabins, I guess. And maybe a general store for food deliveries.”
I laugh. “It’s not the 1900s!”
“I know!” She blushes and shoves me. “Maybe I’ve been reading too much Walden.”
“Oh, it was a rude awakening for me, too.” I smile as we start walking again. “I was picturing all this serene beauty. I mean, it’s here, it’s lovely too, but things are . . . kind of a little more dirty than that. People have to make a living; it’s not just about sitting around, gazing at the forest.” She looks blank, but I keep moving, pausing to cross the street. “I think Ethan is working at the store today.”
“The g*y one?”
I panic.
“Shhh!” I look around. “Livvy, you can’t say that. Nobody’s supposed to know! Or about me and Reeve either!”
“Relax.” She laughs.
“I mean it!” I hiss, nervous. “I shouldn’t have even told you, but I never thought . . .” I shoot another look over at the store. “Swear you won’t tell a soul? Not even Ethan?”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “Calm down! I pinky-swear, whatever. Now let’s go — I want to meet all these cute boys you’ve been talking about.”
She takes off across the street without looking, and I have no choice but to hurry after her, hoping for the best.
32
“And you should really install solar panels, because you might as well just hold a blowtorch to the glaciers with it set up like this.”
The next morning, I find Olivia in full eco-flow. She’s cornered Susie in her office, loudly decrying every element of the B and B as “wasteful” and “irresponsible.” She’s even waving some pamphlets around while Susie looks for an escape.
“Hey, there you are, Livvy!” I interrupt quickly. “Do you want to go hang out by the lake today?”
Susie leaps up. “Yes! Go! Both of you,” she adds quickly. “In fact, take Fiona, too. The first guests are due this afternoon. Just make sure you’re back in time to help set up for the party.”
“What do you say?” I ask Olivia. “Sun, cool water, some tanning . . . ?”
“OK,” she agrees. Susie takes the chance to slip around her and bolt from the room, but not too fast to give me a decidedly exasperated stare.
I know how she feels.
“Look, I didn’t want to say anything, but . . . you might want to tone down all the environmentalism stuff,” I tell Olivia carefully as we pack up our towels and some snacks. She spent half of last night’s Rock Band wars lecturing Grady and Ethan about their lack of a recycling bin for our soda cans and arguing with Reeve about the fuel efficiency of his truck. I felt embarrassed even listening. Did I really sound so self-righteous and condescending when I first arrived? I hope not, but unlike Olivia, at least I knew when to let it drop.
“Why?” She shrugs, looking defensive. “She needs to hear it. I mean, I don’t know how you could stand to watch all this awful construction work all summer.”
I sigh, packing up the cooler with drinks and chips. “The B and B is a good thing. It’ll bring trade through town, remember?”
“But at what cost?” Olivia looks at me disapprovingly. “I know she’s your godmother, but you really should be speaking up about this.”
“Not everything’s a life-or-death issue, Livvy. Sometimes you’ve got to compromise.”
She glares at me. “Tell that to the birds nesting in the spruce tree.”
Olivia keeps up her monologue all the way to the lake, ignoring the pretty scatter of sunlight through the trees to rant about the evils of carbon-based fuel systems and how we’re all going to die at the hands of greedy corporations. I stroll along beside her, silent and confused. Now that we’ve spent some time together again, I don’t understand this sudden switch in her, all this new anger at the world. Sure, we’ve always been against polluting companies, and politicians, and all those usual suspects, but that just made us want to work harder in a positive way — to inspire and educate more people so we could all do something about the problem. But now? Every word that comes out of her lips is so bleak, so extreme, it’s like she can only see the bad things. The worst part is, I don’t even think she’s listening to me anymore. Or anyone. She just seems on some mission to recite her list of the world’s wrongs, regardless of timing or, I don’t know, tact.