I wasn’t about to give up. But I wasn’t going to the Neighborhood Council again. What a waste of time. I had to come up with a better idea.
According to Mom, I always had two choices: follow the rules or change them. If tree climbing was dangerous, then I should stop doing it and find a new hobby like reading or skipping. If tree climbing wasn’t dangerous, I needed to prove it to the council. When I reminded Mom that I’d tried, she asked if I really believed that was true. She said this nicely, but her raised eyebrows told me otherwise.
Dad kept telling me there would be other trees to climb. He said he would take us on a big camping trip in the summer. Somewhere up past Whistler, where there are tons of trees in every shape and size. “They’ll be perfect for climbing,” he promised and then added, “as long as a bear doesn’t get there first.” As soon as I heard that, I knew Mom would never let us go.
Sarah thought I should ignore the bylaw and climb the trees in Cedar Grove. “Just don’t let them catch you.” Sarah could get away with doing things like that. Not me. I had one of those faces that everyone could read like a book. The minute I climbed a tree, everyone would know it.
A better idea finally came to me two weeks later. I was sitting in class, trying not to be distracted by the sun streaming in through the window above my desk. The days were getting longer and longer, and it was finally warm enough to shed some layers of Gore-Tex and Polarfleece. Short sleeves would come next. I couldn’t imagine summer without tree climbing in Cedar Grove.
Our social studies teacher, Mr. Vandermeer, was talking about Clayoquot Sound, an area on Vancouver Island that’s famous for its old-growth trees. The pictures of the trees were interesting (they had massive trunks that looked as if they would be difficult to climb) and so was the story of a huge protest that happened there in 1993.
In one picture a group of people were standing around a small pickup truck parked across a dirt road. In the background I could see huge trucks and other tree-destroying machines. According to Mr. Vandermeer, some of the protesters actually chained themselves to the trees to stop those machines from doing their work.
My mind started to wander again as I imagined being part of something so radical. Each person in that picture looked so ordinary. But each one cared enough about the trees to stand up to the big rich forestry companies that were cutting them down. Working together, the protestors had found a way to have their voices heard.
“Can you guess how many people were arrested?” When Mr. Vandermeer’s voice changed, I snapped back to attention. I knew he had asked a question. Everyone was silent.
“Brianna?” Mr. Vandermeer asked.
“Um, ten?” I guessed, thinking again about the people in the picture.
Mr. Vandermeer laughed. No one else did though, so I knew my answer hadn’t been totally stupid. “Almost a thousand,” he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide so that everyone would understand what a big deal this was, “even though the activists were protesting peacefully.”
Mr. Vandermeer showed more pictures. There were tons of people carrying signs that said things like Ban Old-Growth Logging, Save the Ancient Forests and Clear-Cutting Kills.
“In the end, the protestors were successful. Premier Michael Harcourt’s decision to allow logging in Clayoquot Sound was overturned. To this day, the Clayoquot Sound protest is considered a major victory for the environmental movement.” The bell rang just as Mr. Vandermeer finished with his slide show. He was still talking, but no one heard the end of the story.
That’s when the idea hit me.
I caught up with Sarah as every student in the class tried to jam through the door at the same time. “I think I’ve got it!”
“Got what?” Sarah asked.
“I’m going to organize a protest.”
“Clayoquot Sound has already been saved.” Sarah ran her tongue over her braces and reached into her bag for a granola bar. “Weren’t you listening?”
“No, not Clayoquot Sound. Cedar Grove, silly,” I said.
Sarah stared at me as she ripped open her snack.
“I’ll get all the kids of Cedar Grove together to protest the tree-climbing bylaw!” I didn’t wait for Sarah’s response. I just waved my hand in her direction as I sprinted toward home. I couldn’t wait to get my protest started.