Justine McKeen, Walk the Talk (3 page)

“A walking school bus,” Justine said.

A funny look crossed Ms. Booth's face.

“I don't mean school buses with legs. I mean instead of kids taking a bus to school, they walk. Together. In a group. Too many people talk about helping the environment but never do it. I think it's time to walk the talk.”

Ms. Booth leaned forward. “You have two minutes. Tell me your idea.”

Chapter Six

“It is really good for the planet,” Justine said. “And it's good for kids too. A walking school bus doesn't use gasoline, and it doesn't send engine exhaust into the air. Kids will get extra exercise every day. Plus they will have fun talking with their friends as they walk through the neighborhood. A grown-up leads the walking school bus. The grown-up is called a driver, but really the driver just walks with everyone else.”

“Setting it up sounds like a lot of work,” Ms. Booth said.

“No,” Justine said. “All you have to do is create a walking-school-bus route. Each route would have nine kids on it. You make sure the route has as few streets as possible to cross. The driver would stop at the first kid's house, and then move on to the next kid's house. The walking school bus would arrive at the same time every day, just like a real school bus with a real schedule. The only difference is the kids walk instead of riding the bus. It would be great if our school could organize at least ten walking school buses.”

“Sorry,” Ms. Booth said. “If it is a school activity, I would need signed permission slips from the parents.”

“I already found walking-school-bus permission slips on the Internet. I printed them out for you.”

“Sorry,” Ms. Booth said. “If it is a school activity, the students will need adult supervision.”

“A walking school bus works like a train,” Justine said. “You have one parent at the front of the bus and one parent at the back of the bus.”

“Sorry,” Ms. Booth said. “That would require two parents every day. We can't afford to pay them.”

“If they are volunteers,” Justine said, “you don't have to pay them. And the school will save money if you don't need to run a real school bus.”

“Sorry,” Ms. Booth said. “I don't have time to do all the work to get it started.”

“That's okay,” Justine said. “I will do all the work. I will plan the route. I will find kids who will join the walking school bus. I'll make sure to get all the permission slips signed. I will even go door to door and get a list of adults who will volunteer to supervise every day.”

“Sorry,” Ms. Booth said. “What if the weather is bad?”

“I have already found someone to donate umbrellas,” Justine said.

“It sounds like you have everything covered,” Ms. Booth said. “Let me think about it.”

“Thank you,” Justine said.

“Okay.” Ms. Booth grinned. “I've thought about it. Let's do it!”

Chapter Seven

Justine's first stop for a parent volunteer was at the home of Sydney Martin, a girl in her class.

Sydney's house was down the street from Justine's. It had a fenced yard and a gate. Justine opened the gate and saw Sydney's little brother Adam sitting on the grass with a cat in his arms.

“Hey, Adam,” Justine said.

“Hey, Justine,” Adam said. “Can you hold Snuggles for me?”

Justine sat beside Adam. “Sure. I like cats.”

“Thank you.” Adam gave the cat to Justine.

Snuggles began to purr in Justine's arms. Adam lifted the cat's tail.

“What are you doing?” Justine asked.

“Snuggles is chapped,” Adam said. “Just like how my mom's lips are dry.”

Adam held the cat's tail high. He took a tube of lip balm and rubbed it on the cat's behind.

“Oh! ” Justine said. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“I do it all the time,” Adam said. “Snuggles likes it.”

The door to the house opened. “There you are, Adam. I've been looking everywhere for you,” said Mrs. Martin. She walked down the steps.

Justine handed the cat to Adam and stood.

“Hello, Mrs. Martin,” Justine said. “Did you get the information about a walking school bus? I wanted to save paper, so I emailed it to you. I am looking for parent helpers. It will be good for the planet.”

“I can't remember,” Mrs. Martin said. “I am very busy.” Mrs. Martin looked at Adam. “That's where my lip balm went. Give it back, please.”

Adam stood and handed Mrs. Martin the lip balm.

“What is a walking school bus?” Mrs. Martin asked Justine. She took the lid off the lip balm. Then she raised it to her lips.

“Don't do that!” Justine said.

Too late. Mrs. Martin smeared the lip balm across her lips.

“The lip balm,” Justine said. “Adam just used it on Snuggles.”

“Ew,” Mrs. Martin said. “He put it on Snuggles's mouth?”

“No,” Justine said. “The other end.”

“What!” Mrs. Martin said.

“Under Snuggles's tail,” Adam said proudly. “Where it is all dry. Snuggles likes it.”

Mrs. Martin wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She spat and spat and spat. When she was finished, her face was very red.

Mrs. Martin glared at Justine. “I saw you holding Snuggles. You helped Adam do that!”

“No,” Justine said. “I didn't—”

“I know all about you, Miss Queen of Green. I suppose you think helping little boys put lip balm on a cat's behind is good for the planet too?”

“No. I—”

“You are a weird girl,” said Mrs. Martin. “Please go away and don't come back.”

Chapter Eight

Justine's next stop was at the home of Ava Free, another girl in her class. Everybody knew that her dad, Mr. Free, liked everything neat and perfect. He had the best lawn in town and said it was only for looking at, not for walking across.

Before walking up to the door, Justine stopped at the curb. A recycling box was waiting for pickup alongside some garbage cans. She looked inside the recycling box.

“This is good,” Justine said to herself. “Papers. And bottles.”

She lifted the garbage can's lid and began to pull out garbage. “Very good. Very very good. This is giving me an idea.”

Mr. Free drove up and parked his shiny car in front of the house. When he got out, he saw a tiny spot on the hood. He rubbed it with his sleeve until the hood was shiny and perfect, like the rest of his car.

He marched up to Justine. “What are you doing in our garbage?” he said.

Justine held out her hand for a handshake. “Hello, Mr. Free,” she said. “It is nice to see you. My name is Justine McKeen. I am in your daughter's class at school.”

“I'm not shaking your hand,” he said. “It is dirty. And it is dirty because it's been in my garbage. And the garbage is on my perfect lawn!”

“You have nice garbage,” Justine said. “It is giving me an idea.”

“How about this for an idea. You put all that garbage back in the can. It is on my perfect lawn!”

“Of course,” Justine said. “You should be proud of yourself. None of your garbage can be recycled. And everything in your recycle box can be recycled. Many people don't sort their garbage or recycling, which gives me an idea.”

“I don't care what your idea is,” Mr. Free said. “You shouldn't dig through other people's garbage. Or put it on their perfect lawn!”

“Could I paint your recycling box gold?” Justine asked.

“What?”

“My idea is to give people who do a good job recycling gold recycling boxes. Like when kids get gold stars at school.”

“My idea is that you stay out of my garbage,” Mr. Free said. “You are a weird, weird girl. Please go away.”