Chapter Fifteen

When I get back home from camp, I immediately call Jenny. I want to see if she wants to help make more posters.

Her mom answers instead.

“Hi, Stella. Jenny is busy. She is rehearsing for her recital.”

I frown.

“Oh, okay,” I reply. “Can you tell her I called?”

It’s a little upsetting. I know Jenny cares less about saving the oceans than I do. She spent most of our last session reading the baking book from the library. It made me a little mad. But she’s also busy, and it’s okay if we have differences. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Part of being a crusader is being flexible to obstacles. I have to be adaptable just like the tuna fish. Not only are they the only warm-blooded fish, they can raise their body temperature to adjust to colder water to stay warm.

Mom’s busy working so I decide next to look for Nick in his room for help. Unfortunately, it’s empty. Then I remember he is at the pizza shop. He’s working extra all week because I’m at camp.

With no one to help me, I decide to read more about how we are polluting the oceans. The information is sad again. For instance, I read that sea turtles often confuse plastic bags with sea jellies, which they like to eat, so they end up eating the plastic bags by accident. I picture the baby sea turtles I just saw at the beach in Mexico. My heart breaks. Poor little guys.

The worst part is I read that even if everyone recycles, we’re still using more and more plastic, much more than we can recycle. Plastic is even showing up on islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean where people don’t even live. And the animals there are suffering from it.

While I read this depressing information, Linda comes over. Mom promised her dinner since she took care of Pancho during our trip to Mexico. Linda sits in her favorite chair and knits as Mom cooks. She watches me push my books aside and curl up into a ball.

“Well, I’ve never seen you react to a book like this!” she exclaims. “Only my grandson, Joey, reacts like this. But he doesn’t like to read. Yet.”

Part of me wants to smile, but I can’t.

“What’s the matter, Stella?”

“It’s the oceans. They’re dying.” I flop over dramatically onto my back.

“Oh…,” she says, dropping her knitting needles, “… it is really sad, isn’t it?”

I look up at her face. She looks sincere. Biscuit runs onto the top of my stomach. He sits down and nuzzles his face against mine. It’s almost as if he knew I needed a friend.

Linda slowly gets off the chair and sits closer to me.

“But you know what is amazing?”

I shake my head no.

“Is that you care so much.”

I shrug.

“I know that doesn’t sound helpful right now, but I know you’re going to make a difference. And if you can get more people to help, you’ll make a bigger change.”

I sit up on my elbows. She has a point.

“Why don’t you write Stanley an email? I’m sure your mom won’t mind just one more. And after, maybe you can make a whole list of questions to ask your camp counselors tomorrow.”

I sit all the way up. Biscuit barks almost as if he is motivating me.

I get Mom to turn on the computer. Linda knits nearby as I write an email to Stanley.

Dear Stanley,

I’m super bummed. Saving the oceans is hard! It turns out there is so much plastic and it’s only getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I have made some posters. Jenny helped some, but she’s so busy with dance camp that I’m sort of on my own.

Your sad friend,

Stella

I draw a sad drawing of me in my sketchbook. I put teardrops all around me and some dead fish at my feet. After looking at it, I decide not to ask Mom to help me send the drawing with the email. That would be too dramatic. Instead, I only put a few sad emojis at the end.

After sending, I start making a list of things to ask my camp counselors. They’ve got to be able to help me. My biggest question is: How do we stop using so much plastic?