The Order of the Trees (3 page)

At school, Cedar slipped in silently, as she'd learned to do, trying to go unnoticed. Unnoticed, that is, to everyone except for Phillip.

He gave her a small wave, but didn't look for too long. Last time, they'd been caught, made fun of. Cedar wondered if she embarrassed him. If he was truly her friend, he wouldn't be embarrassed. She wondered if they really were friends. She hoped so.

Math time came and went, the usual students being their usual selves. Cedar remained uneasy, anxious. Her stomach pulsed with a dull, nervous ache.

At snack time, Cedar went back to the reading area, hoping Phillip would join her. At least they could have a little privacy there. He came back, looking around quickly as he walked.

“Hey,” he whispered, “how are you? Feeling OK?”

“Yeah,” Cedar lied, eating ginger candies, “How about you?”

“I'm fine, I just don't want any more trouble from Mrs. Doneaway or those girls.” He looked around from behind his glasses until his eyes settled on the two girls by the cubbies.

He is embarrassed, Cedar thought. They were silent for a few moments. Phillip looked at his feet. The air seemed stuck, unsure, between them.

“Ah, don't worry about them. They aren't even
members of the Order,” Cedar looked down. Her head pulsed, blood pounding.

“So what do you think the orange tape was all about?” Phillip asked.

“The Order? What, are you guys in some sort of cult? Do you have your own language?” Miranda and Sam had crossed the room and appeared right behind them, eavesdropping. Sam let out her barking laugh.

Cedar looked up, eyes steady. “None of your business.”

Miranda looked at Cedar, measuring the challenge. “Right,” she said. “This is Tree Girl, the one found abandoned in the woods. Of course, so much of your mysterious life is none of my business. I guess it's none of my business that you're in a cult, but don't take Phillip down with you.” She looked at Phillip, and batted her eyes. “He doesn't need to be part of your freak show.”

“Go away,” Cedar said, her gaze solid as a tree.

Miranda's eyes flickered to Cedar, and she turned towards Phillip, squaring her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up delicately with clips and sprayed into place. Lip gloss glistened on her lips as
she spoke. “Phillip. I'm having a party Friday night. If you've had enough of cult girl here, and you are ready for some normal friends, please join us.”

Phillip froze, shifting his glance between them all. The whole class was listening; the air in the room seemed to stop moving.

“And Cedar? You might want to pay more attention to getting dressed tomorrow.” Miranda pointed to Cedar's feet. One of her socks was a bright blue, the other, red. Sam's loud laughter continued as they paraded across the classroom, proud of their conquest.

Cedar burned inside, a forest fire.

At lunch, Cedar sat down at a table alone. Phillip was still in line. Minutes seemed to take forever as she watched him make his way through it. He started walking towards her table, and Cedar felt a little light come into her heart. Maybe she really did have her first friend.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down. “I'm really sorry about what happened.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“I know, but I just feel bad that they…”

“Invited you to their party? Go ahead, Phillip, if you want to.”

This threw him. He was speechless. “Are you sure you wouldn't mind?”

“I just have to tell you, I think they are using you. Using you to make fun of me.”

“Oh, I see, I'm not cool enough for an invitation, am I?” Phillip's eyes narrowed, his face getting red.

“No,” Cedar said evenly, “I think you are. I do. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

And like a door opening suddenly, there it was again. The white light shot upwards through her, careening from her toes to her skull. Cedar grabbed her head, squinted, as what felt like shards of glass pierced her body, again and again.

“Cedar? Cedar?” Phillip called. He was at the end of a long tunnel of sound.

She stood up, walked like a drunk across the room, barely in control of her body. She stumbled a bit, wavering, and ran right into Savannah Westerberg, whose tray went flying, spaghetti sailing across the cafeteria, splattering the floor red.

They both fell like rag dolls, and Savannah
landed directly in the spaghetti sauce. The cafeteria erupted in laughter, and gasps. It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Savannah bounced back up, brushing herself off, shot a look at Cedar, and scrambled for the door. Cedar sat up, her head between her hands, not moving. She started waking up from her pain, pulling herself out.

A teacher went to her, and helped her up. She shook her head, rubbed her temples.

“I'm fine,” Cedar said.

“We'll just take you to the nurse to be sure,” the teacher said, his arm around her shoulders. The whole room watched as she was led out of the cafeteria. Cedar looked back as the teacher opened the heavy metal door, but she didn't see Phillip.

Is Cedar there?”

“Hi Phillip,” Mrs. Montgomery answered, and dishes clanked in the background. “She's here, but she's up in bed. I think she's sleeping. I don't know what's gotten…”

“Could you check?”

“Well, Phillip, I think she needs her rest.”

“It's just that I wanted to tell her something.”

“She knows, you won't meet in the woods tonight, not after today.”

Phillip was silent on the line. He didn't know she knew about the Order.

“Thanks for your call, Phillip.” Click.

The next morning, right off the dirt road and a bit into their tunnel of trees, three men set to work building a small platform to park the yellow, angular
machines. Both the men and the machines were getting ready for the big job of clearing the forest.

Unnatural sounds echoed through the Worcester Woods that morning. Birds took flight, frantic, and even the wind seemed to hurry by. The truck doors clanked open and shut. The engines ran, the saw hummed, the reverse single beeped. Men joked, cursed and moved trees and earth.

All of it in only a hour or two. That was all that was needed to cut down seven trees at the beginning of the trail, and to move the earth from its home under the downed leaves and dew into a neat, flat rectangle. The trees were cut up, heaved into a truck, taken away. Three bulldozers and other equipment were lined up neatly on the new parking area, ready for the next step.

The sun glinted off their yellow, hard metal. All was quiet again in the Worcester Woods after they left. But they would never again be the same. The process had begun.

Cedar walked into school the next day looking ragged. Her hair was matted and in knots, and she
walked slower than normal. Phillip watched her come in, and his eyes followed her to her seat. She didn't even look up, look for him.

Finally, in math, Cedar turned around, and looked at him. Her wild eyes were dull and muted, red. He mouthed, “Are you okay?” to her, and she nodded slowly, and turned back around.

Later in the morning, language arts class began. Cedar knew she had to present her newspaper article to the class, summarizing the important parts. She read the article again to herself. I can do this, she thought. Just focus. You're fine.

Phillip picked up today's paper. His summary wasn't due until tomorrow. He scanned the front page, then turned to the Local section. He read the headline twice, and drew in a quick breath. He looked up at Cedar, whose eyes were downcast, reading fervently, and reviewing her notes. “No, no, no,” he said, as he started reading the article.

“Okay class, it's time for summary presentations. Please put away your choice reading, and give your attention to our presenters.”

Phillip didn't budge. His eyes were locked to the page.

“Do I have a volunteer to go first?”

“Cedar!” Phillip called in a strained whisper, “Cedar!” He was going to pass her the newspaper—or hold it up so she could see what it said.

“That was nice of you to volunteer your friend, Phillip.” Mrs. Doneaway smirked as she walked up the aisle. “Cedar, please start us off.”

Cedar slowly made her way to the front of the classroom. Her hair was matted to her head, and her face was a shade of pale ivory. Her eyes were lined with red and her cheeks seemed pulled in, hollow. Her T-shirt was wrinkled and worn. Miranda and Sam snickered as she stood there, looking down at her papers.

“Anytime, Cedar, anytime,” Mrs. Doneaway's voice called, soaked in sarcasm.

Phillip watched, the newspaper clutched tightly in his hand.

“Increased mercury levels in fish can harm our health,” she read, her voice monotone. “A new study says that the increased level of mercury in tuna and salmon can…”

Cedar stared down at the paper, and started swaying slightly. Phillip held his breath as her voice
got softer and softer. Miranda shot Sam a look of excitement.

Cedar started rocking back and forth, her voice barely audible. Her eyes were slits, and she read in a quiet murmur.

Phillip held his breath. Hang in there, Cedar. Just finish this and I'll show you the paper.

“Cedar, we can't hear you any—”

Mrs. Doneaway stood up suddenly as Cedar's head rolled forward first, then the rest of her body followed, as if in slow motion. She came down hard, face first on the linoleum floor with a sickening smack. In an instant, Mrs. Doneaway was by her side, holding her head up. Cedar's eyes were closed.

Phillip was standing, staring.

“Somebody get the nurse! Quick!” Mrs. Doneaway yelled in a high-pitched, piercing call. Her eyes were wide, scanning the class for help.

Phillip threw down the paper and ran to the office. It landed on the floor, its headline unnoticed. It read, “New development planned for the Worcester Woods.”

Phillip sat in class, pretending to pay attention. Mrs. Doneaway talked on about ancient Egypt, and he fidgeted in his seat, wondering how Cedar was doing. He stared at the clock, willing it forward. He had seen the ambulance come and take Cedar away on a stretcher. Her face looked a shade of bone grey, and her eyes remained closed as they wheeled her out. The class seemed like a fog had settled around them. They were quiet, subdued. Mrs. Doneaway even seemed out of sorts. She lacked her spirited sarcasm and quiet disdain. Her eyes flickered to Cedar's empty seat, and the line between her eyes deepened.

Phillip couldn't stop thinking about the newspaper article. Where was this new development planned? Why hadn't they heard about it? What would happen to the Order?

Phillip rubbed his eyes, and heard the bell ring. He jumped up and ran for the door. Shoving his
books in his backpack in one move and throwing it over his shoulder, Phillip barely noticed Miranda in the doorway.

“Have you thought anymore about the party on Saturday?” she said, batting her eyelashes.

Phillip pushed by her; he yelled behind his back, “I've got to go!”

“Where are you going!?”

But Phillip was already out of the door, his feet pounding the hallway floor. He burst outside and stood for a moment, thinking. Just like flipping a light switch, he made his decision and ran up Shady Rill Road toward Bear Swamp.

The evening sun felt soft and warm on his back, but he paid it no notice. He ran focusing on what he was going to find. His feet thump-thumped on the dirt road, his breath rhythmic, pushing in and out.

It can't be, he thought. It's just not possible.

His glasses slid down his nose, causing him to lose his vision for a few moments. He sucked in and out, gasping for breath, trying to keep moving. As he turned up Bear Swamp, Phillip prayed he wouldn't see his mom or Cedar's parents on
the road. He didn't want to answer any questions about why he was running, or why he was splattered with mud.

Please let her be okay, he thought, please. My only friend.

When he reached the Worcester trailhead, he stopped and turned in. He nearly ran right into the machines that stood like soldiers waiting. It was exactly like a punch in the gut. He rubbed his face in disbelief, trying to make sense of the platform, the missing trees, the equipment. He turned quickly away. He had to know if their forest was okay.

The trees made a colorful tunnel for him as he started walking at a brisk pace. The woods glowed, bathed in late orange light as he pushed on. The trees stared at him, silently watching.

Finally, he came around a bend and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at their clearing, at Stella, Magdalene, Rose and the rest of the trees in their sacred place. His jaw dropped as his eyes darted between trees. Phillip held his breath, noticing the small orange ribbons tied to each tree. Some around the center, some around a small branch. He counted the trees with this marking, sweat dripping
down his forehead. In the center of them all stood the wide and graceful Stella, with the same thick orange tape tied around her wide girth. The color was blindingly unnatural against her earthy brown form.

Forty-two trees in all! This has to be it, he thought, this is where the houses are going. When did all these ribbons go up? He pushed his knuckles down, heard the loud pops. Phillip looked back, and realized the trail he walked in on would be a road. Not a tunnel of beautiful trees, but a road for this new development. Pavement to their secret place. Pavement to the place where he met his first friend. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath and yelled.

“Nooooo!!!” Hot tears pushed to his eyes, and pattered down his face. The only friend he had, the only place they were safe from the world, gone.

He had to get to her. He had to tell her. But what would it do? She was sick and in the hospital, she couldn't do anything about it. Phillip rubbed his temples. The air pushed in around him.

Why was she sick? He thought. What was happening?