“I can’t. I’m sorry, Jane, but I really do have to vote for Ashley,” Caroline said as she plunged a stake into the sparkling sands of Bienville State Beach. It was the first Saturday of June, the day of the big Magnolia Maid Beach Cleanup, and we were measuring sections of shorefront so that we could keep track of how much we cleaned, then collect our donations accordingly. Zara and Brandi Lyn were working at the other end of the beach.
“Give me one good reason why,” I replied. Zara and I had decided that since there was no way in hell Mallory would ever break ranks with Ashley to tilt the queen vote over to Brandi Lyn, the only way to burst the deadlock was to get to Caroline.
As she searched for a reason, I handed her one end of the tape measure and paced with the other end along the white gulf sand. It was so glistening and gorgeous even at seven o’clock in the morning. Hard to believe that within a few days it would probably be besmirched by oil residue. When I reached twenty feet, Caroline joined me and plunged another stake in the sand.
“I know Ashley is a bit…”
“Malicious? Toxic? Spiteful?”
“Strong-willed.”
“Nice euphemism, Caroline, for a girl who wreaks a hell of a lot of evil.”
“She’s not evil, Jane.”
“Let’s be real. Ashley only has the interests of Ashley in mind. She doesn’t care about any of us or what we think. No way is she about being part of a team. But Brandi Lyn, that girl is one hundred percent genuine, and you know it.”
“But Mother would curl up and die if she made queen.”
“I know! Wouldn’t that just rock?”
Caroline blanched. “Jane, please. You don’t have to live with her. I’m already in so much trouble. Mother’s mad that I only made alternate and that…” She clammed up as her face turned red and tears welled up in her eyes.
“About what?” I reached out and touched her arm. “Caroline, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” She nodded vigorously, but the raindrops pouring from her eyes said otherwise. Her chest heaved with quiet sobs until a big one escaped her lungs. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She nodded. I coaxed her to a seat on the sand, and out poured what Mizz Upton was really furious about—she had put Caroline on Jenny Craig a few months ago and so far Caroline had failed to lose an ounce. In fact, she had managed to gain six pounds. “What is wrong with me?” bemoaned Caroline. “I eat the food they give me, and I try to exercise, I really do, but I can’t help it! It’s like there’s a monster inside of me and it takes over. If I see cookies I have to eat a dozen. If there’s Ben and Jerry’s in the house, I have to eat the whole pint. I can’t stop it. Mother is right. I’m a big, fat slob and that’s all I’m ever going to beeeeeeeeee!” Caroline sobbed.
“Caroline, please. Don’t talk about yourself that way. You’re not a slob. You always look perfectly neat and presentable.”
“But I am fat and you know it!”
Sweet Bars of Hershey! Here I was, trapped in a lose-lose situation, no matter what I said. I gave it my best. “I’m sure people might say you could stand to lose a few a pounds, but so could lots of folks.”
“No one in my family. Not my mother. And have you seen my sister? She’s a beanpole!”
“She’s twelve!”
“And skinny and everybody loves her for it.”
“Well, that’s a stupid reason to love somebody.” Seriously, do a few more or less pounds make someone more or less lovable? Here in the South, it seems like almost everybody gets fat sooner or later. What’s the point in judging others for it?
“Jane, I’m so scared. What if something happens to one of the other Maids and I have to make an appearance? I’ll look like a big peach whale. People will laugh at me!”
“No they won’t.” Except they probably would, darn it. “Caroline, if you really feel this way, don’t you think having Ashley as queen would be the worst choice possible? There’s not a bone of sensitivity in her body.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I heard her call me Caroline Plumpton the night of the pageant?”
“Actually, I was kind of hoping you hadn’t.”
“Well, I did. I know that everybody calls me that. And I know that Ashley doesn’t like me and also thinks I am a fat slob, and I can’t stand her, either, but I just can’t vote against her right now. I have to walk into my mother’s house every day, and I can’t have one more reason for her to look at me like I’m shower scum. I can’t do it, Jane. I’m sorry.”
I groaned. “Okay. I get it. We’ll figure something else out.” Like what? Hiring an assassin to off old Ashley?
We continued our measuring, and by the time we arrived at beach cleanup headquarters—a tent Mr. Walter had set up over a handful of picnic tables—Ashley and Mallory were lollygagging around on a bench in a big display of displeasure.
“Nice showing up on time, Ashley,” I said as I tapped the nonexistent watch on my wrist. “Punctuality is such a good trait for a Magnolia Maid to develop. I believe that’s listed in chapter five.”
“Sorry, this isn’t exactly my neck of the woods, Jane.” Oops, there it was. Dig number one of the day. We chose this particular beach because it’s situated at the point where the bay flows into the Gulf of Mexico, so it would most likely be the first place where oil would hit our community. As luck would have it, Bienville State Beach was pretty far out in the county, meaning in a poor section. It was far from the places where Old Bienvillites maintained their summer cottages. Ashley’s little remark meant that this place was beneath her, in her esteemed opinion. And so were the people who used this beach. After all, only people who didn’t have their own beachfront property had to use state beaches.
Ashley surveyed the shoreline. “And you really think we can clean this whole beach in six hours? It’s pretty big.”
“I do, if every member of the organization gets off her Magnolia booty and does her fair share of the work.” I arched an eyebrow in her lollygagging direction.
Oddly enough, it didn’t spark a snappy comeback. In fact, Ashley’s face lit up like the sky over Bienville Bay on the Fourth of July. “Our dandies are here! Our dandies are here!” she squealed. She and Mallory sped over to a Land Cruiser that was careening into the beach parking lot as if a bunch of firecrackers had just been lit under it. Out poured some of Old Bienville’s finest young scions: Ashley’s boyfriend, James Hardison III; Mallory’s pick of the week, Andrew Lancer; and this guy named Jules Dupree, who I vaguely recalled was Caroline’s cousin. Talk about blasts from the past. God, I think I danced with all three of them at cotillion back when we were all a foot shorter and a ton gawkier. If I remembered correctly, James was a quiet sort while Andrew was the alpha male. A loud, obnoxious kid always looking for some sort of trouble. Not unlike me, ha-ha-ha. Jules, I don’t know. Seemed like just another rich prepster with a lot of money and no real need to do anything to earn it.
We were all in the middle of hellos and introductions when I heard a second vehicle pull up beside the SUV. Oh no. Suddenly, every cell in my body switched to vibrate. I recognized the sound of that diesel engine! It was a Mercedes sedan, circa 1970-something. I remembered the sound of that door slamming. I’d heard it a million times coming from 511 Magnolia Street when I first moved to Grandmother’s. He was here. I knew it. I sensed it moments before his Nike Zooms and his broad shoulders came around the back of the SUV. Before his golden locks popped into view. Before his now deepened man’s voice called out, “Hey, everybody!”
Luke Churchville.
All I could think was, Thank God I’m not wearing a Magnolia Maid dress.
We used to play this game, Luke and I, when we were kids, in his attic at night where one of us would be It, and the other person would go stand and hide somewhere in the dark space. Except you wouldn’t hide, you’d just go to a part of the room and stand really, really still while It stumbled through the dark trying to locate Not-it from the sound of Not-its breath. We got the idea from watching Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs during that super-creepy scene where she’s trapped in the basement of the evil serial killer and he’s stalking her while wearing the night-vision goggles, reaching out to touch her hair and she doesn’t even know it. Ewwww. We did the same thing, only we didn’t have any night-vision goggles. We just had breath and sound and feel. Still. It was good and creepy.
But now that Luke and I were actually breathing the same air—now that he wasn’t safely sheltered by the roof of his car as it drove by my house, or ensconced harmlessly three church pews away, I wondered if I remained motionless—really, really still—maybe he wouldn’t notice me and I wouldn’t have to deal. I could just sneak over to my car and hurry home to safety.
But then Mallory bounded over and shrieked, “Jaaaaane! Oh my God! Look who’s heeeeee-re!”
Great! Blow my cover, Mal, why don’t you?! Here I was trying to make myself invisible, and she dashes over to me, giddily playing matchmaker and RUINING MY LIFE! She dragged me the remaining six feet over to Luke. “Luke! You remember Jane! Y’all were neighbors! Luke’s going to be Zara’s dandy, isn’t that great!? Oh! Let me introduce you! Luke, Zara, Zara, Luke.”
Luke and Zara politely shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” said Luke.
“It’s nice of you to come out,” responded Zara.
Mallory turned back to me. “Since Zara doesn’t know anyone in town, I suggested we recruit him, aren’t you thrilled?” Mallory beamed with pride at the result of her little scheme. “But Luke and Jane, y’all haven’t seen each other in ages! You’ve got catching up to do! Talk! Talk!” she ordered. Then she ran off, dragging Zara with her, leaving Luke and me completely and utterly alone.
Now, as we all know, I usually have something to say about anything and everything, under any circumstances. But in this case, I was at a loss. A complete and total loss.
Luke wasn’t. He twisted the cap off a bottle of water and downed a swig. “Oh yeah. Heard you were in town.”
Hmmm. This was so not turning out to be my fantasy first encounter. “Yep! Here I am.”
“Cool,” he said. Not cool. Ice cold. That’s how he was playing it.
I cloaked myself in nonchalance. “I heard y’all are living out by the golf club these days.”
“For about four years now.” Luke gulped down the rest of his water and looked beyond me. “Hey, Lancer! What are you doing with that shovel, man? This isn’t a sand castle-building contest!” And he was out of there.
Alrighty then.
Luckily, a sudden flurry of activity masked Luke’s tremendous diss and gave me a chance to try to regather my wits. Officers Meeks and Detroit from the Alabama Bay Watch showed up in a sleek, white truck, ready to dispense the rules of the game. Then JoeJoe’s monster truck got a lot of attention when it rolled into the lot. Brandi Lyn rushed over to him and immediately and enthusiastically introduced him to the whole crowd. They were polite, don’t get me wrong, but after a few exchanges of “Hey, so you work at EZ Lube” and “I sure do,” the conversation shriveled into a painful silence and the Old Bienvillites went back to their exclusive conversations about so-and-so’s upcoming kegger.
Teddy Mac made his grand entrance, fashionably late in a totally beat-up old Saab and wearing a formerly bright green polo shirt and khakis that had seen better days, oh, about five years ago. What I love about the truly rich is that they don’t give a toot about showing their money. They don’t need to. Teddy worked the crowd with handshakes and hellos, then slinked up to me and glared. “When I agreed to be your dandy, Jane, this was not exactly what I signed up for. Tell me there’s some glamour in my future, please? Pretty please?”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’m sure there’s a ball or two in your future.”
“I’m certain there’s a ball or two in my future!” he whispered in my ear, making me laugh out loud. Thank God for Teddy Mac. He was like my own personal Advil, taking the pain out of the giant headache this day was turning out to be.
Mr. Walter called us together, and Officer Meeks, the delegate from the Alabama Bay Watch, began his speech. “Okay, folks, let’s gather round! We’re gonna get started here! As y’all know, oil has not hit our part of the coastal region yet, but it can and probably will within the next few days. So, in anticipation of that future cleanup, we’re starting with a pre-cleanup.”
Ashley batted her eyelashes at James. “I still think it would be a lot easier if we just hired a maid.”
James shrugged. “I thought all y’all were the maids. The Magnolia Maids.”
“Ah-ha-ha.”
“It’s a lot easier to remove tar balls and tar patties later if the shore is cleared of debris first,” Officer Meeks continued.
Andrew Lancer snickered. “He said ‘tar balls.’”
OMG, what dandy academy did these yahoos graduate from? These guys were sooooo seventh grade. At least Teddy Mac whispered his ridiculous remarks in my ear.
Mallory giggled and play-slapped her boy-toy on the arm. “Lancer!”
“He said ‘patties,’ too,” Andrew replied, which made Mallory giggle even more. So it was definitely going to be that kind of day.
Officer Meeks continued over the ruckus. “What I want y’all to do is to take these bags and collect anything that is not natural to the beach environment. Cups, plates, beer cans, bottles, toys, beach gear. You’ll be surprised what washes up onshore.”
Ashley raised her hand. “Excuse me, this sounds a little dirty. And unsafe.”
“Yes, it does. Thank you for making that point,” he responded. “Definitely this is dirty work, I can’t help that. But we want everyone to take safety precautions. I want gloves and sunhats on everyone.” He opened up a cardboard box full of wide-brimmed hats, the kind with the sunflap on the back—quel fashion choice!—and industrial work gloves. “Also, people. Believe it or not, one of the biggest safety risks today will be our hot Alabama sun. It will get you faster than a mosquito in August. Put on sunscreen. We’ll take breaks every thirty minutes, and I want everyone drinking a lot of water.”
As we all clamored for gloves and hats, Officer Detroit continued. “Now, folks, this is very important. If you see anything that happens to look like oil, DO NOT touch it. If you find anything that has a sheen to it, or anything that looks like this…” He held up a photo of a ball of black, sticky-looking stuff. “It’s a hazardous substance. If you are even the least bit suspicious, call me or Officer Meeks here on over and we’ll take care of it. And if you find any wildlife, birds or turtles covered in oil, same thing.”
Mr. Walter turned to me. “Jane, how are y’all going to do this?”
I stepped forward. “So, as everyone knows, we have gotten donations for every twenty feet of beach that we clean up. If you look out in the sand, some of us got here early—thank you, Caroline, Zara, and Brandi Lyn—and put up posts that mark every twenty-foot segment. So I’m thinking every Maid should take a segment with her dandy and get cleaning. Then move on to the next available one when you are done.”
Teddy Mac raised his hand. “Where should we start?”
“Uhhh… on the gulf side? Since that will likely be hit first? Is that okay with you, Officer Meeks?”
“Makes sense. You can work your way into the bay.”
But Andrew Lancer had another idea. “Or we could have more fun with it.” He spread his arms wide and gestured at the far ends of the beach. “Why not have half the group start on one end and the other half start on the other, and we race to the middle?”
“Ooh, that sounds fun!” Mallory chirped.
Officer Meeks frowned. “I don’t know about racing. Could increase the chance of heatstroke and injury.”
“I concur,” chimed in Mr. Walter. “We don’t want any injuries, okay.”
Luke kicked at the sand, avoiding looking in my direction. “It sure would make the time go faster.”
Everyone looked so bummed. And he was right. Why not try to have some fun while doing this truth-be-told odious task? “I agree,” I said. “What if we set some ground rules? No running. Everyone has to take scheduled breaks?” I beseeched Mr. Walter with a glance.
Mr. Walter looked at Officer Meeks. “This certainly is an enthusiastic crowd. What do you think, Dale?”
Officer Meeks gave in. “All right. No running, no sprinting, no jumping. Mandatory ten-minute breaks every half hour. Deal?”
“Deal!” we all screamed.
I turned to the crowd. “We need team captains!”
Andrew Lancer raised his hand. “Me versus Luke.”
“I’m on Lancer’s team!” shouted Ashley.
“Me too,” screamed Mallory.
“No, no, no.” I put one hand on my hip. “Nice try, Lancer, but last I checked, you aren’t a Magnolia Maid. Girls? It’s got to be two of us.”
Lancer stepped back. “Just trying to help.”
Ashley raised her hand high. “Me!”
“And you, Jane,” said Brandi Lyn, “since you organized the whole thing.”
“Okay, I’ll accept that challenge.”
Ashley scanned the crowd. “I get Mallory.”
“Brandi Lyn!” I motioned for Brandi Lyn and JoeJoe to join me and Teddy Mac.
“Caroline.” Oh, well that was good. Not being picked last had to be good for Caroline’s self-esteem. But that meant that Zara was on my side. Which I would normally be over the moon about, but it also meant that Luke was on my side, which meant… uh-oh.
While Lancer, Ashley, James, and crew were high-fiving and congratulating themselves on how awesome their team was, my team had just landed in Awkward-ville. We were all just staring at each other like, gee what do we do now? What with Zara knowing no one, JoeJoe not being part of the crowd, me and Luke avoiding each other like the plague… what a perfect day it was going to be.
Lancer held up his hand to get everyone’s attention as he outlined the stakes of the race. “First team to the middle marker gets… What do they get?”
“Pizza bought by the other team at Picklefish,” Luke interjected.
“You’re on!”
Then we all took off running despite Officer Meeks’s warning.
When my team arrived at the end of the beach along the gulf, we all slowed down and surveyed the scene. It was nasty. Trash everywhere. “This must have been brought up by the storm the other night?” guessed Brandi Lyn.
“Might as well get started,” I said. “Come on, everybody. To your stations.”
Each pair took a segment of beach and we were off. Once we got down to business, I had to admit that I wasn’t really into it. Picking up trash is mindless but really not that much fun. Plus, I was so weirded out by Luke being there (not to mention his lackluster hello) that I couldn’t even focus. Darn it, couldn’t Mallory have given me a little heads-up? This whole thing was so wrong. Luke was making polite chitchat with Zara, but I could tell he was studiously avoiding me. You would have thought I killed his favorite dog. Where was that sweet boy I used to know on Magnolia Street?
A few days after Cecilia died, Cosmo sat me down at the house on Bird River and broke my heart. “Jane. My darling. You know I need to travel a lot on business.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“I can’t leave you here by yourself. So your grandmother and I have talked and you are going to go live with her now.”
“At the house on Magnolia Street?”
“At the house on Magnolia Street.”
I just sat there a moment. He was leaving? Without me? “But Daddy, I want to go with you.”
“I want you with me, too, agapemenee mu, but I’m on business all the time. I live in hotels and airplanes. Those are terrible places for a little girl.”
“Why can’t you do your business here? Can’t people come meet you here?”
“Honey, we’re so far away. Bienville is at the end of the world as far as these people are concerned. And our company is growing, Jane. It’s very exciting. I need to be on the move.”
I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “I won’t be a bother. You can have your meetings and I’ll sit in the corner and do my homework!”
“And where will you go to school? There’s no school on the airplane.”
“We’ll find a tutor. Please, Daddy.” I sniffled.
He sighed. “We’ll have visits. You’ll come visit me in Greece, see your grandparents. Or in London. We’ll get you a passport and you can fly all by yourself like a grown-up young lady. That would be very exciting, right?”
I nodded, but really the answer was a big fat no. Owning a passport and traveling on an airplane by myself didn’t sound nearly as good as having my daddy with me. But what choice did I have?
“Just promise me I won’t lose you, too, Daddy, please.”
Funny thing is, when I think about the expression on his face now, I swear it was like his heart was breaking, too. He swept me into his arms. “I promise, agapemenee mu. I promise.”
He sold the house, moved me to 505 Magnolia Street, left town. Grandmother fixed up one of the formal bedrooms for me on the second floor, making it kid-friendly with flowing curtains and cheery yellow walls and a four-poster bed with a canopy fit for a princess. In the sitting room, we set up a play area complete with a bright-colored rug, shelves filled with board games and books and puzzles. I did a lot of puzzles.
We built a life together, Grandmother and I. My whole routine changed. Walking to school with Grandmother in the morning instead of being driven from the river house by Henry. Getting picked up again in the afternoon by Grandmother, who claimed she just loved all the exercise she was getting now that I lived with her. Going home to play with Luke rather than reading to Cecilia. That’s something I had done a lot at the end, when she couldn’t turn pages or talk anymore. A Wrinkle in Time, all the Harry Potters and Lemony Snickets, The Boxcar Children, we loved those. Funny to look at it now, all those are stories about orphans of some sort, which is essentially what I became. I wonder how Cecilia felt, hearing me read those books and knowing that she soon would be leaving me motherless?
Early mornings with Grandmother, late afternoons with Luke. Those were my favorite times of day. School, however, sucked.
After Cecilia died, no one would talk to me. All the girls in my grade just ignored me, including Alexandra Maxim and Maria McBride, the ones I had been closest to. They didn’t pick me for their kickball team. They didn’t invite me to join them in the cafeteria, only made small attempts at polite conversation. It was like I suddenly had some contagious disease that they would all catch if they were nice to me. Grandmother tried to explain that it wasn’t my fault. They felt uncomfortable about my mother passing away and they didn’t know what to say to me, didn’t know how to handle me. “Give it some time. They’ll get over it,” she said.
In the meantime, it was a pretty lonely experience. I couldn’t wait to get home to Luke. Each day after snack, I would sit reading in the window seat of the music room, one eye trained on his driveway, expectantly waiting for Mrs. Churchville’s SUV to pull in, home from picking up Luke at the private boys’ school across town. He would burst out of the car and over to my house always ready with a plan. “Let’s build a tree house!” “Wanna go over to Le Moyne Park and play catch?!” “Hey, Jane! My dad just got me Grand Theft Auto! You ready to lose, sucker?” Each afternoon, Luke swept into my lonely existence like a tidal wave of fun. We raced, ran, chased, played through every corner of every yard in our block on Magnolia Street. We were best friends. He didn’t treat me like I was a pariah. He was always there. Always. Afternoons with Luke made me feel like a normal human being. Every once in a while, if suddenly I looked a little sad, he would say, “What’s wrong, Jane? Everything okay, Janie? Want a Coke? Want a hug?” and he’d give me a Coke or a hug or a noogie and say, “All right, ditch the tears, Janie. Time to ride bikes!”
Luke Churchville was unbelievably sweet to me when nobody else was.
I couldn’t imagine where that Luke had gone.
By eleven in the morning, we had made some progress with our trash duty, but it was slow going because the beach was so wide. And we were starting to realize that Officer Meeks had been right about the dangers of cleanup duty—it was hot, sweaty, grueling work. The humidity had kicked in big-time, so during the next mandated break, my team and I waded—shorts and T-shirts and all—into the shallow waters of the gulf. We all figured that since the oil had not hit shore yet, we might as well enjoy the water while we still had the chance!
“Hate to say it, but this cleanup kinda sucks,” someone said.
“Yeah,” someone else replied.
“Are we ever going to finish?”
“I think the longer we work, the longer the beach gets.”
Then silence. That was the way it had been most of the morning. Each pair did some chatting on their own, but there had not been much interaction. We were a bit of a mismatched group. Or you could just say we didn’t know one another.
JoeJoe broke the tension, pointing to the next section we needed to clean. “Beer cans, beer cans everywhere and not a drop to drink.”
Luke grinned. “Nice one.”
Dear Lord. That grin. Did it have to be so adorable?
Teddy Mac gestured at the other end of the beach, where Team Ashley was taking their break. “Hey, why are they having more fun than we are?”
It was true—Ashley’s team seemed to be having the time of their lives. Even from a distance, it was obvious that she had lost her bad attitude, what with the boys being there and all. Although to be honest it looked like she was getting her boyfriend, James, to do most of the work for her. “Oh, James, could you pick up this bucket and move it for me? It’s too heavy.” “Eww! That is so disgusting! James, will you come get this?” James played the chivalrous gentleman at every juncture and did Ashley’s bidding without an iota of complaint. He must really love her, I thought. Meanwhile, on more than one occasion I saw Lancer swing Mallory up on his shoulders, he-man style, then run into the water with her. At that moment, Caroline and her cousin Jules competed to see who could run farthest into the bay before they fell into the water.
“Ahh, the in-crowd,” I said. “Always knows how to turn any situation into a party.”
“So, Jane, if they’re Team In-Crowd, what are we?” Zara asked. “Don’t we need a team name?”
“How about the Outcasts?”
“The Unwanted.”
“The Throwaways.”
“The Redheaded Stepchildren,” JoeJoe added. And with that we all laughed.
“Clearly, we have a winner,” I announced. “We are the official Redheaded Stepchildren, even though not a one of us has red hair.”
That turned the tables on the day in a big way. Suddenly, everything became a game for Team Redheaded Stepchildren. When JoeJoe found a lone Air Nike, Luke took a picture with his iPhone and put it up on his Facebook page asking if anyone had seen the other one. We entertained ourselves by posting more pictures of gross and lost things on our Facebook accounts. A disgusting bag of King Chicken leftovers now covered in maggots. Ewww. A deflated basketball. Some poor baby’s dirty cloth diaper. Ewww, ewww, ewww. Our howls of laughter drew the attention of Lancer. He barreled on over. “What’s going on? Too much laughing, not enough working.”
Zara showed him a picture she was putting up on Facebook for her friends back in DC to see. It was of a handmade dollhouse she and Luke found settled amongst the beach grass. Colorfully painted like a Victorian house on the outside and covered with tattered wallpaper on the inside, it was completely devoid of furniture and dolls. Kind of sad, really.
To my surprise, Lancer was actually affected. “Some poor little girl is missing her house, isn’t she?” He yelled over to his crowd, “Guys, let’s get some chatter going!”
Within about twenty minutes, everyone was posting. Mallory had set up a Twitter account called “Magnoliariffic” and started tweeting about how much we had already cleaned and how much more we had to go. We were all getting comments and feedback and postings—a lot of support—which gave me an idea.
“Hey, everybody,” I called out. “Gather round! Let’s make our posts work for us. Write something like ‘there’s still time to help.’ That people can come on down and donate or put on some gloves and get to work.”
Ashley’s eyes lit up. “More hands on deck? Love it!”
I gasped. “Ashley, did you just agree with me?”
“Yes, but word to the wise. Don’t get used to it.”
Everyone got busy on their smart phones and within half an hour, no lie, we had a CROWD! Brandi Lyn and JoeJoe’s friends lived nearby and used the beach all the time, so they were the first to show up. Then more friends and friends of friends drove down from town, and suddenly there were tons of people out grabbing gloves and bags and joining in. The power of social networking, I thought. We might be able to finish this endless project after all. A few folks asked if they could give us some more money, so JoeJoe cleaned out a plastic toy bucket somebody had salvaged and Brandi Lyn made a sign that read, DONATIONS HERE. It started filling up with dollar bills and change, and Zara’s friends up north started pledging to send some cash our way. I was a wee bit surprised to see Katherine and Courtney show up, even if they had dropped their lawsuits against the Magnolia Maid Organization, but they kind of just ignored Team Redheaded Stepchildren—typical!—and joined Team In-Crowd for the pickup. Our fund-raiser was turning into a big ole B’ville social event, so obviously they needed to make an appearance.
Total news flash! And this time I mean that literally! The local news actually came to interview us. Midway through the day, the Local News 7 van pulled into the parking lot, and reporter Maven Rice started interviewing various bystanders. Lots of folks talked about what a great thing we were doing for the city. Then Mr. Walter dragged Ashley and me toward Maven. “It is your duty as team captains to give her the story, okay.”
Maven stuck the microphone in my face. “Ms. Fontaine Ventouras, how did you come up with the idea of a beach cleanup as a fund-raiser?”
For the second time that day I blanked. What was happening to me? “Well…,” I floundered. “We really, thought, we wanted to help our community and… um, this seemed like a good idea….”
Ashley, however, transformed herself into a passionate public relations expert. “Well, Maven, I think the question is, how could we not do this type of fund-raiser? As Magnolia Maids, we are Bienville, and Bienville is its natural resources. Our resources are threatened so we have to defend them.” My jaw dropped. Go, Ashley! “And we are so grateful to everyone who has turned out today and supported our cause. You all have been wonderful.” She waved to all our fans off camera, eliciting a giant cheer. Damn, she was good when she wasn’t being all angry and vindictive.
Maven nodded. “On another note, I understand that you girls have yet to elect a queen?”
Ashley and I exchanged glances. “That’s true,” I said.
“That’s very unusual for this stage of the Magnolia Maids process, is it not? Tell me, what is the holdup?”
Ashley and I didn’t even look at each other this time. What in the world were we going to say? “Well…,” she started.
Miraculously, I found my sea legs and finished her sentence. “There’s no holdup here, Maven. What’s happening is that this year’s Court is a very diverse Court. Unlike previous years. We are from different parts of town, different schools. Two of us have just recently moved back to the area. So we are taking our time to get to know each other before we select a queen.”
Wow. That fine excuse burst out of my mouth like a cannonball at the circus. I hesitated to even look in Ashley’s direction in the event she was balking at my answer. To my immense surprise, she was nodding right along with everything I said, even adding to it. “We just want to make the right decision,” she said. “We need the best leader possible to guide us through all the appearances and events in the year to come.”
Maven beamed at us. “Well, so far, it looks like you’re doing a great job as a team. Good luck, Maids.” She looked back into the camera. “I’m Maven Rice for Local News 7. Back to you, Chuck.”
As soon as the reporters left, Mr. Walter came over and swept both me and Ashley into a giant hug. “Good job, Maids. Couldn’t have asked for more, okay. Keep up the mighty fine work.”
After he walked away, I turned to Ashley. “Don’t take this wrong, Ashley, but you were great.”
“Don’t take this wrong, Jane, but so were you.” We grinned at each other for a split second. “But we’re still going to kick your butts.” She ran back to her team and rallied them to get cleaning again.
I headed back to mine and we pushed through the last hundred yards toward the finish line. Surprisingly, I was starting to feel pretty good about the day, considering.
Until Teddy Mac hissed at me in the way that only Teddy Mac can. “What is going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Luke Churchville. Have not said word one to each other since he arrived. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“It’s nothing.”
“In some alternate universe, maybe. If I recall correctly, you and he were BFFs once upon a time. True dat or true dat?”
“True dat. But I don’t think he wants to talk to me anymore.”
“Then you are clearly blind as a bat. If he looks over here one more time, I’m having him arrested for eye-stalking.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“No, you shut up. No, don’t. Go talk to him.”
“I am fine just where I am.”
I bent over to pick up a dead inner tube. I could feel Teddy Mac staring at me. “Well, I am bored to tears talking to you,” he finally said. “I feel the need for a little change.” Teddy Mac beelined for the section of beach that Zara and Luke were currently working on. “Zara, baby!”
“Oh come on, Teddy Mac!” I called after him, desperate.
He completely ignored me, that jerk, and bounded right up to Zara. “I have not had the opportunity to truly make your acquaintance. Let’s switch partners and dish like schoolgirls, why don’t we? Luke, you’re okay to work with Jane for a while, aren’t you?”
And before anyone could say no, Teddy Mac had reconfigured the whole scenario so that Luke and I were alone together at Bienville Point, the part of the beach where the shoreline meanders north and turns a corner. Here the gulf turns into the bay, and the terrain changes dramatically. The sandy beach narrows down to a quarter of its size. There are more trees. Beach grasses. Marshy areas. Small inlets with cattails and other water grasses where birds frolic and turtles play. It’s beautiful.
Luke and I walked along in silence. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “So what have you been up to?”
“What have I been up to? Let me see. Interesting question. Since when? Since the last time I saw you five years ago? Or the other day when I saw you at church?”
Well, that took care of that question. I guess he did see me that day, after all.
“Let’s try the last five years.”
“Okay. I ate my Wheaties on a regular basis and grew about fifteen inches, put on the corresponding weight. Still at OMS, going to be a senior this year. My grades are pretty decent. Probably applying to Alabama, Vanderbilt, maybe Tulane. Captain of the soccer team. President of the French club. Started a band with Lancer and a couple of guys. Our influences are the Smiths, the Cure, Dead Can Dance, the Allman Brothers, the Eagles, Jack Johnson, and Metallica. There. Happy?”
No. Not at all. The résumé listing actually managed to sound pretty ugly. Not so charming. What was I supposed to say to that? Here’s what I did say: “What’s that noise?”
“Yeah, that’s what people usually say about the band, but we think it works.”
“That’s not what I meant. There’s a weird sound. Over there.”
Luke cocked his head to one side and we both listened. There was a thwacking sound, a wet thump, thump, thwack coming from the marshy inlet a few yards ahead of us. “An alligator?” he suggested.
“Sounds more like fluttering?”
We made for the inlet, parted the marsh grasses, and found the source of the sound. And I’ll tell you, it took my breath away. Immediately. There before us, perched on—no, in—the water, flapping its wings in a valiant attempt to get airborne, was a bird. An oil-soaked, blackened, incapacitated bird, who could not fly because its wings were covered, DRIPPING with oil.
“That’s a brown pelican,” said Luke.
“He must have been diving near the spill,” I replied. “He has so much oil on him!”
The pelican strained to extend his broad brown wings again and feebly flapped them but to no avail. He was sinking deeper.
“Oh my God, he’s going to drown,” Luke said.
“We have to save him!” I cried.
Without missing a beat, Luke and I launched into emergency mode.
“I’ll call Officer Meeks!”
“I’ll try to grab him!”
I sprinted over to our other teammates and yelled, “Teddy Mac! Run and get Officer Meeks! Tell him to come quick! We found a bird!”
“A Bird? OMG!” Teddy Mac took off running back toward headquarters, and I careened back to the marsh to find that Luke had waded into the water and was trying to pick up the bird with his hands. It was so not working.
“Luke, we’re not supposed to touch them!” The pelican lunged at Luke with his long, formidable beak. “And you’re making him more anxious!”
“But he’s going to drown!” It certainly looked that way. The poor thing could barely keep itself afloat.
“I know, but there’s got to be a better way.” I scanned the area. “How about that?” I pointed at a plank on the small bluff above the marsh. It was about one foot wide and ten feet long, probably something that had come off somebody’s fishing shack or pier during one of last year’s hurricanes. “Maybe we try to get it underneath him and get him to walk onto it?”
“Good idea.” Together we dragged the board over and floated it out into the water. That was the easy part. The hard part was trying to maneuver it underwater and under the bird. We had no control from ten feet away and the resistance created by the water made it almost impossible to lever the board with any sort of direction or power.
“We need more traction,” I said.
Luke waded slowly back into the water, careful not to upset the bird. He stopped at about the middle of the plank, and from there guided it under the bird’s feet. “Come on, boy, we have a little life raft for you here. Hop on,” he said.
I held fast to my end of the plank, trying not to let it make any sudden motions or splashes. “Just find your feet, Peli, just put your feet down.”
“You don’t have to struggle so much.”
“We’re here. We got you.”
Luke and I both held our breath and then, miraculously, the pelican felt the board under its feet. Stopped flapping. Took a few heavy steps forward before taking a well-deserved rest. We sighed in relief. Without saying a word, Luke and I worked together to draw the plank onto the sand. When the bird-end of the board made it to land, Luke and I gently laid it to rest and stared at the oil-soaked creature.
“Ack!” it cried, glaring plaintively at us.
“Ack is right,” I said back. I had to turn away from the sight. This helpless, unlucky animal. The victim of such unjust circumstances far beyond its control. It killed me.
Luke shook his head in anger. “This makes me so mad. It’s just not right, Jane. It’s just not right.”
I was about to reply, but then Teddy Mac showed up with Officer Meeks, who was carrying a cage. Right behind him came everybody else: Team In-Crowd, Team Redheaded Stepchildren, our Facebook and Twitter recruits. We quickly explained what happened, then Luke stalked off, obviously furious.
I wanted to ask him what exactly wasn’t right: the bird, the oil, or me?