It's a Green Thing (12 page)

“I guess…” Still, I wasn't so sure. What if I messed up?

“And I realize the writing part of this might be a challenge to you. Do you like to write, Maya?”

“Actually, I do.”

“Great. But if you wanted, we could pair you with an editor, just to help you get started. One thought I had was that the column could simply be suggestions for ways that readers can practice conservation. Sort of how-to tips.”

That's when it hit me. “Hey, I've already been writing green tips.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “How is that?”

So I explained about my journal. “I've been doing it for fun. At first I pretended it was part of my homeschooling, but then I just kept doing it.”

“Amazing.” He grinned. “Looks like I came to the right girl.”

“I guess…”

“And this is a paying job.”

Just then our food came, but even before the waiter set my veggie burger on the table, I knew I wanted to do the column. “Okay,” I told my uncle. “I'd like to give it a try.”

“Maybe I could have a look at some of the tips you've already written.”

“Sure. But they're not very long. I could probably add to them though.”

“Sounds great.”

After lunch we shook hands, and I realized that before long, I would be a published author. Who would've thought?

This morning Uncle Allen asked if I minded having my picture taken for the column. I just laughed. “Actually, I got pretty used to being photographed last summer.” I told him about my short modeling stint. “But I'll admit that when I first started and had to get my portfolio shots taken, it was pretty intimidating.”

“Do you still have your portfolio?” Kim filled her dad's coffee mug. “I'd love to see it.”

“I almost threw it away.” I took some clean plates out of the dishwasher. “But it was kind of expensive to have done, so I saved it.”

“Hey, maybe we could use one of those photos,” my uncle suggested. “That would save us having to get new ones taken.”

So I went to my room and dug out the portfolio. To be honest, I wasn't that thrilled to see it again. But I handed it over to Kim and my uncle, then went back to emptying the dishwasher.

“Wow,” Kim said. “These are really great photos, Maya.”

Uncle Allen laughed. “Yes, and I'm sure it will get the readers' attention to see such a beautiful young woman who cares about the environment. It's rather unexpected, don't you think?”

“I think Maya's column is going to be a hit,” Kim said. “What are you going to call it?”

“I've been trying to think of something clever with the word green in it,” he told her. “Do you have any ideas, Maya?”

“Nothing that sounds very interesting.”

“I have an idea,” Kim said, “although it might sound kind of goofy. Do you remember Kermit the Frog?”

“Of course!” I put the last glass away and closed the cabinet. “I adored Kermit.”

“How about ‘It's Not Easy Being Green’?”

I considered this, but I wasn't sure. “What if people think it's for little kids? Like the Muppets or something?”

Uncle Allen nodded. “And there could be a problem with copyright.”

I put the last dish in the dishwasher and closed the door. “How about…‘It's a Green Thing,’” I suggested.

“That's good,” said Uncle Allen.

“I like it.” Kim nodded.

“It's a Green Thing,” Uncle Allen declared. “That works for me.” He wrote it down on a notepad, then put one of my publicity headshots next to it.

“Are you sure you want to use that photo? I mean, wouldn't it be better to get a shot of me in my overalls, like in the garden or separating the recyclables in the trash?”

He laughed. “Come to think of it, some shots like that would be fun. Maybe we can do both.”

Kim gazed down at the glossy photos on the table. “She's definitely photogenic.”

Suddenly I wasn't so sure. “You're not letting me do this just because of that, are you?”

“Of course not, Maya. We know you're sincere about your commitment to the environment.”

“That's right,” Kim said. “We have to live with you.”

I kind of laughed. “I guess it's not easy living with someone who's got a green thing.”

“Put like that, it sounds like a disease,” teased Kim.

“A disease that is hopefully catching,” I shot back.

Although I could joke about it, I'm still a little worried about this column. Uncle Allen is convinced that it's just what young people need, and he thinks it'll be a success, but I'm not so sure.
Last night I showed him several of my green tips, and we finally decided on the one that explains the three Rs—reduce, reuse, recycle. It's actually rather basic and a good place to begin. But that's not what worries me.

What worries me is me. I mean, what if I'm the wrong person to do this column? Just because my uncle runs the newspaper doesn't mean I should have this opportunity. Yes, I definitely care about the environment, and I think people my age should be challenged to think of ways to help. But I'm working in a place that has little to do with environmental concerns. How am I going to feel when someone says, “Oh, there's that girl who acts like she's into conservation, but she works at that chichi boutique. What's up with that?” And really, isn't that sort of hypocritical on my part?

During a lull in the shop this afternoon, I mentioned my worries to Jackie. Naturally, I said it all wrong.

“Are you suggesting my shop is not environmentally sound?”

“No, not at all.”

“Because I do care about the environment, Maya. You've noticed that I recycle the cardboard from shipping boxes.”

I nodded. “But there are other things you could do.”

“Really?”

So I quickly suggested some things she might do to help conserve and protect the environment, and to my surprise she listened and actually took notes. “My goodness, Maya, I had no idea you were such a thoughtful conservationist. I'm very impressed.
No wonder your uncle wants you to write that column for the paper.”

“And I can print out some things for you about fair trade and organic cotton and lots of things to do with the fashion industry.”

“I'd like that. In fact, Rosemary has been mentioning these very things. I've just been too busy to take notice.” Rosemary is Jackie's daughter. She's in her midtwenties and works at the shop occasionally—so far only on days when I wasn't there, so I haven't met her yet.

By the time I left the shop, I was encouraged. Okay, maybe I don't work in a thrift store or a recycling center, but I'm helping my boss do things differently. That's something.

“Any big plans for July Fourth?” Marissa asked me today. She'd stopped by unexpectedly for my lunch break. It seemed the road crew boss wanted the day off, and as a result Marissa and I shared a cheese pizza at the food court. I think I may be getting seriously addicted to cheese. I wonder how I ever survived without dairy before.

“Dominic is taking me to the fireworks,” I told her as I went for a second piece.

“You guys getting serious?”

I shrugged and wrapped a string of mozzarella around the tip of my slice. “How do you define
serious?”

“You know, like exclusive, like in love, like you're sleeping together.”

I blinked. “No, then I can safely say we're not serious.” I don't admit that we haven't even kissed. Well, he did kiss my hand that night, but that's it. Still, I have a feeling that our first kiss isn't too far off. Or maybe I'm just hoping. “How about you?” I asked, eager to deflect the attention. “Are you still seeing Eddie?”

She laughed. “No. That was just a one-night thing. He's fun, but he's too young for me.”

“So what are you doing for the Fourth?”

“There's a big party on the far side of the lake. We'll be able to see the fireworks from there but still have a good time.”

“A good time?”

“You know.” She rolled her eyes as she sipped her soda.

“I just don't get why people think getting drunk is a good time.”

She shrugged. “Because you get to let your hair down and unwind.”

“Why can't you do that without alcohol?”

“Because that would be boring.”

“I don't drink, and I'm not bored.”

She seemed to consider this as she reached for another slice.

“Here's the deal, Marissa. I've seen other people—people I know really well—who have ruined their lives with drugs and drinking. I just do not see the attraction. I mean, I never want to end up like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like your life is ruined because you did something stupid… like being arrested for underage drinking or using drugs or drunk driving.”

“Those things wouldn't necessarily ruin your life.”

“But they could,” I point out. “And they have ruined some lives.”

“Not mine.”

“Maybe not completely. But look at you. You're stuck doing community service all summer.”

She grimaced. “Don't remind me. It's been less than a week working on the road crew, and already I feel like road kill.”

“That's my point. You have to know that it's not worth it to keep making bad choices, Marissa. I just don't understand why you're willing to risk everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Like your freedom, for one thing. I mean, you're not exactly free to do what you want when you have to do community service. But seriously, if you got caught again, like tomorrow at the lake, you could end up going to jail.”

She grinned. “Yeah.”

“Marissa?” I stared at her.

“It might be interesting doing time.”

Okay, I was so tempted to tell her about Shannon and how that is not the least bit interesting. But I just couldn't go there.

“Oh, you're such a worrywart, Maya.”

“I just care about you. And honestly, I don't get it.”

“What's to get?”

“Like I said, why you're willing to take such risks. Don't you care about your life?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I'm just getting even.”

“Getting even?”

“With my parents.”

I had to think about this one. “You mean because your dad's a cop?”

“Partly. But also because my mom messed up.”

Now this was news to me. “Messed up?”

She made a nonchalant face. “Yeah. She cheated on my dad a few years ago. It wrecked their marriage. She left us to be with her lover. She messed up.”

“I'm sorry…”

“Hey, that's life. You know what it's like. I mean, your parents are divorced too.”

I hadn't actually told her this, but I guess it wasn't hard to figure out. “You're right. But that just proves my point.”

“What point?”

“That I don't need to mess up my life just because my parents messed up theirs.”

She leaned forward with interest now. “So are you saying your parents messed up too?”

“It's no big secret, Marissa. My parents' marriage was a mess. And although they were both to blame, my mom has probably messed up worse than my dad. And even worse than your mom.”

Marissa smiled. “See, I knew we had things in common.”

“But still,” I persisted, “we don't have drinking and partying in common. You're acting like you do that to get back at your parents, but you're really only hurting yourself.”

“I'm not hurting.”

“Not now maybe.” I sighed. “But it's not like you're enjoying your road crew work. At least you admitted that much.”

She smirked as she held out her browned arms. “Hey, it's not all bad. Check out my tan.”

“Let me guess…you don't use any sunblock either.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Maya. I didn't drive all the way to the mall to get lectured on the dangers of living and breathing. Can you give it a break?”

So I clammed up, and she changed the subject to Brooke's lawsuit, and suddenly I was the one on the hot seat. Finally I told Marissa that I really didn't know how it was going to turn out. “I've been praying about it,” I said, “and I'm trying not to obsess over it. My uncle and my attorney both think it's going to blow over.”

“Or else there'll be a settlement. I'm sure that's what Brooke's dad is hoping for. He wants to get a piece of Nick Stark's money and keep it out of court.”

I nodded. “My attorney said that's a distinct possibility.”

“Well, that's so wrong.”

“I know.”

So I guess we broke even today. I bummed Marissa a little with my lecture, and she got me back by reminding me of Brooke and the stupid lawsuit. I'd actually been doing a fairly good job of blocking that, but now it's haunting me again. And I feel sorry for my dad. I mean, he works hard for his money. Why should he have to pay for something like this? It just makes no sense.

Something else makes no sense. Marissa. I just can't figure her out. So what if her mom messed up? So what if her parents split? How does Marissa putting her own future at risk make anything better? I so don't get that.