The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love

Chapter Twenty-Five If you don’t know the words, hum the tune

Sicilee’s mother, though very fond of her, of course, has always been a little worried that her only child lacks a certain amount of depth. Or, as Sicilee’s father put it after the fight about enlarging her closet, “The only thing she’s really serious about is being superficial.” Since the beginning of the new year, however, Sicilee has started to blossom in ways neither of her parents could have predicted. Mrs Kewe can’t get over the change.

“I certainly never expected you to join an environmental club,” she admitted when she heard the news. “I never thought you had any interest in helping nature.” Possibly because the only thing Sicilee has ever been known to do in the backyard is lie in a deckchair by the pool. “Or in stopping climate change,” she added.

Sicilee hadn’t planned to tell her mother about the club – when dealing with her parents, Sicilee believes that the less she says, the less she has to lie – but in the end she had no choice: it was that or starve.

“I’ve become aware of how precious and vulnerable our planet is, and have learned to care,” said Sicilee, paraphrasing something Cody said at the first meeting. And then, continuing to paraphrase him, added, “I don’t want to sit in the back of the world bus while pollution and over-consumption drive it over a cliff.”

“Well, that really is something. You certainly are developing and maturing.” Her mother beamed. “I can’t tell you how proud and pleased I am.”

“I’m only trying to be a responsible citizen,” said Sicilee, paraphrasing herself.

“But what brought all this about?” asked her mother. “I can understand that you’d be concerned about global warming and melting glaciers – all of us are. But do you think there might be a little more to it than the zeitgeist? Perhaps it’s realizing that you’re growing up and that your future will be what you make it? Or perhaps you’re beginning to come to grips with mortality.”

Sicilee sighed.

This is an example of why she wasn’t going to mention anything about saving the planet or eating vegetables to her mother. Margot Kewe, being a psychoanalyst, is a thoughtful, questioning kind of person. It isn’t enough for her to know what you did, she always wants to know why as well. As if the simplest action has some complex, hidden meaning. As if the fact that you left your cell phone out in the rain three times last summer must mean that you were tired of talking to your friends and not just that you forgot about it because your mind was on something else.

But Sicilee couldn’t eat old lettuce and tomatoes and flexible carrots for lunch for the rest of the semester. Sweet Mary, she’s a growing girl; she needs more sustenance than that. The problem was that if she told her mother that she wasn’t eating meat at lunch – and only at lunch – her mother would have wanted to know why. Even if Sicilee could have come up with a plausible excuse, her mother would then have wanted to explore her motives even further. So she told her mother about the Environmental Club and that she’d decided to become a vegetarian and would need some suitable things for her lunches. Those salads they do at the gourmet deli, for instance. Or the vegetable sushi at the Japanese restaurant.

“You really are serious, aren’t you?” Her mother shook her head as if she was the one who’d been asked a question. “You know, I’ve been reading a lot about vegetarianism lately. Apparently, meat production is one of the greatest contributors to global warming.”

“That’s right,” agreed Sicilee, who, as luck would have it, had had a conversation with Cody only that morning that touched on this very topic. “It’s responsible for more greenhouse gases than the transport system of the whole world.”

“Well, listen to you!” Her mother was obviously impressed. “You sound like an expert!”

“I’m working on it,” said Sicilee.

Sicilee’s mother, wanting to encourage her, decided to help Sicilee become an expert. The very next day she came home with the current issue of VegNews.

“Wow,” said Sicilee. “I didn’t know we had our own magazine.”

And a day or two later, she presented Sicilee with three books that she thought Sicilee would like.

“I was only going to get the book about living with the Earth,” her mother explained, “but they all looked so interesting…”

“Gee…” said Sicilee. She smiled, but she smiled wanly. They are all very long books. “How can I ever thank you?”

Her mother said she doesn’t have to. Just seeing her push herself in new and selfless directions is thanks enough.

The new and selfless direction in which Sicilee has pushed herself at the moment is the corner of a sofa she is sharing with Cody Lightfoot, whose arm stretches casually along the back of the couch, coming so close to her that she would hardly have to move to lean forward and kiss his fingers. Cody is talking – warmly … passionately … intimately… And Sicilee, her eyes wide and expression intense, is listening as if memorizing his every word for the quiz that follows.

In fact, Sicilee has to concentrate just to hear him over the joyous thudding of her heart. She can’t believe it’s just the two of them. No klutzy boys noisily interrupting or chatter of girls surrounding him the way they usually do. No freaking Maya Baraberra waylaying Cody like some kind of environmental highwayman the way she always does – Oh, Cody, I wanted to ask you… Oh, Cody, I thought you’d like to see this… Cody, what do you think about that… Oh, I think so, too – flashing her HELP THE EARTH FIGHT BACK and BE KIND TO ANIMALS – DON’T EAT THEM pins and acting like she was born with a carrot in her mouth.

This private moment, almost foot-to-foot and knee-to-knee, eyes staring into eyes, hearts beating as one, is like a dream come true. In fact, it is like several dreams come true. The ones that end with Cody taking her in his arms and Sicilee waking with a smile on her face. One of the big differences between those dreams and this moment, however, is that the dreams always take place in some secluded corner by candlelight or on a deserted, moonlit beach – not in the student lounge in the middle of the day.

“Then, after we made the bicycle-powered generator,” Cody is saying, “in seventh grade, for our science project, my friend and I made this wind turbine.” This would be another difference; in Sicilee’s dreams they talk about love and how wonderful each thinks the other is, not the environmental movement. “We figured that it was way cooler because we didn’t have to pedal. It wasn’t big or very sophisticated, but it worked just dandy.”

“A wind turbine! Wow. Really? That is so awesome.”

Sicilee has had several small successes in the past weeks – walking with Cody, talking to Cody, once even making him laugh with a joke she heard on the radio about how many Green activists it takes to change a light bulb (none, they use candles) – but this is the longest one-to-one Sicilee has ever had with him. It has ranged from endangered species to plastics to innovative solutions to our energy problems, but Sicilee’s part in it has consisted largely of words like wow, really and awesome – and a good deal of earnest head-shaking. Which is not the way it’s supposed to be. Indeed, to avoid this very situation, Sicilee has spent over a week sitting at home with only Lucy, her cat, for company, actually reading the books her mother bought her instead of hanging out with her friends and enjoying herself. The idea was that this would make it possible for her always to have something relevant to say to Cody or at least an intelligent question to ask. But instead, it has proved to be an endless, exhausting and, apparently, futile task. There is just too much to know. And most of it, as far as Sicilee can tell, is terminally boring. Statistics. Facts. Pages of information with footnotes and references. Bibliographies. Things only someone like Clemens Reis would want to know. She often falls asleep after only a paragraph or two. Even if she rehearses a couple of relevant comments and intelligent questions, she forgets what they were the minute Cody opens his mouth.

“After that we made a bigger one that we put on the roof of the garage, and we powered the light over our workbench and a radio with that.”

Sicilee’s smile goes into rigor mortis as she frantically rummages through the files of her mind for something Greener and more savvy to say than “Wow!” Something to show how much she knows about alternative sources of energy. Which, as it turns out, is not all that much (and largely based on a rant of her father’s about the cost of solar panels). “Obviously, it’s, like, so totally worthwhile, but they must’ve been really expensive to build.”

“Nah.” Cody shakes his handsome head. “It was pennies – even the bigger one – a handful of Lincolns. Most of it we made from stuff we got from the dump or found on the street.” He shakes his handsome head again, but this time in disappointment and disbelief. “It’s, like, so totally amazing what people throw out. Perfectly good, usable stuff. You’d think they’d never heard the Green mantra.”

This, of course, is Sicilee’s cue, but instead of reciting she simply smiles. She is smiling so much that her cheeks ache. It seems that, for all her reading, she has never heard the Green mantra, either.

“Reduce. Reuse. Recycle,” says a voice right behind them.

Cody raises his head. “Exacto!” he grins, sticking up both his thumbs. “The Three Rs.”

Sicilee’s teeth clench in irritation. She might have known that it was too good to be true. Maya Baraberra is another thing that never happens in Sicilee’s dreams. The girl must have him bugged.

Maya dumps her book bag between Cody and Sicilee and, with the agility and nonchalance of someone not wearing a tailored skirt, climbs over the back of the couch to join them.

“I’m so glad I ran into you two,” says Maya, looking at Cody. “I saw this awesome show on the Discovery Channel last night? And it brought up so much stuff that I really need to talk to someone about.” Now she looks at Sicilee with a smile like a dose of strychnine. “Someone who’s really clued up, you know?”

That, of course, is the last time either Maya or Cody actually looks at Sicilee.

Cody saw the programme, too. He’s been dying to discuss it. It really blew him away. Words and phrases Sicilee has either never heard or doesn’t remember hearing – clear-cut … oil shale … resource substitution … biodiversity … the three faces of power … primativists – fall from his and Maya’s lips like autumn leaves fall from the trees. Sicilee has no choice but to sit there and listen, looking fascinated and pretending to know what they’re talking about.

How does Maya know all this stuff? How does she remember it? And then a new question occurs to Sicilee: Why bother? Proving that Joy Marie Lutz is right and every cloud does have a silver lining – even the one that brought Maya into the lounge today – it is in the second that she asks herself that question that Sicilee has her great idea. It is an idea both simple and touched with genius. An idea that will grab Cody Lightfoot’s attention and shake it the way Lucy the cat pounces on and shakes her catnip mouse when she’s feeling really playful. This idea will knock that so-cool-I-rule smile from Maya Baraberra’s face for the next fifty years.

Sicilee is so happy she fairly shimmers. She’s been going about this all wrong. It’s like buying a new outfit. In order to buy a new outfit, you don’t need to know how to design and sew a dress, cobble a pair of shoes, make socks, knit a sweater or fashion glass and gold into an attractive necklace with matching bracelet. All you need is a credit card and a ride to the mall. Saving the planet is exactly the same.

Put another way, you don’t have to know the words to be able to hum the tune.