Windfall by Sara Cassidy Page B

appears on the screen, but Mom tells them to be respectful.
    Reporters ask Mrs. Reynolds if she’ll let the children keep the orchard. She says “no.” Then her cell phone rings. On camera! “Excuse me,” she says sourly. A moment later she turns off her phone. “That was the school board,” she says through clenched teeth. “If the students can look after it, the orchard can stay.”
    We whoop and holler. “Shhh,” Mom says.
    On the television, Mrs. Reynolds is still talking. “You can bet the kids who did this will be doing the bulk of the weeding and watering and pruning. That will be their punishment!”
    After supper, I chat online with my old friend Jamaica, an activist in the United States who keeps tabs on the oil industry. She says that what we did was called proactive activism and civil disobedience. Civil disobedience is when people — usually peacefully — disobey a law or a government’s command because they see it as unfair , she writes. Proactive activism is when you do something toward a more sustainable, just world. Rather than just complain, you build something good. Way to go, Liza!
    Niall and I talk on the phone for thirty-eight minutes.
    â€œWere you ever scared?” I ask.
    â€œI was only scared that you might back out and leave me holding the watering can!” he said. “Were you ever scared, Liza?”
    â€œYes,” I admit. “I was scared when Richard died. He left a hole. I was afraid we’d all fall through.”
    After I hang up, Silas says. “I heard what you said about Richard. It’s true. He was a like a knot that held our neighborhood together.”
    â€œThe plug that keeps the water in the sink,” Leland adds. A while later he taps me on the shoulder. He has made a sign that says Richard’s Orchard. His letters are kind of messy, but they look alive.
    Olive reports through the speaking tube that her family is making a bench for the orchard out of shipping pallets they scavenged.
    â€œMy parents want to help, even if they aren’t sure they agree with what you did,” Olive says.
    â€œI’m not sure I agree with what we did,” I confess. “But I’m glad we did it.”
    It’s spring again. Imogen, Mom, Leland and I watch as Silas sweeps aside the grass and locates the circle of stones we left as a marker. Imogen digs up the scions, then binds three of them to three root stocks. We’ve decided we can fit three apple trees in the backyard. They’ll have each other for company.
    â€œHow soon before the scion and root stock become one tree?” I ask.
    â€œAs soon as their sap meets,” Imogen answers.
    The trees won’t produce apples this year, and probably not next year either. But the following year, it will. And for many years afterward.
    â€œThese trees could be producing apples long after we’re all laid in the ground,” Imogen says, standing back to survey her work.
    â€œGood,” I say. I think of Richard. I take in the whole moment—the air, the earth, my brothers, Mom, Imogen, even myself. “Good,” I say again.

Sara Cassidy has worked as a professional clown, a youth-hostel manager, a tree planter in five Canadian provinces, and as a human-rights witness in Guatemala. Her poetry, fiction and articles have been widely published. Windfall is Sara’s second entry in the Orca Currents series. Her first Current, Slick , also features Liza and the girls of GRRR!

o rca currents

    978-1-55469-352-8 $9.95 pb
978-1-55469-353-5 $16.95 lib
    Liza is determined to prove that her mother’s boyfriend is no good. When she discovers that the oil company Robert works for has come under criticism for its actions in Guatemala, she’s certain she’s struck gold—or rather, oil. Liza decides to expose Robert’s evil ways by exposing his company’s actions. She puts together a girls’ group called