Dig Too Deep (12 page)

Twenty-Two

Twelve note cards, held together with a hair band, lie in my lap. Each is neatly printed with a topic and several bulleted notes underneath.

• health statistics in the va
lley (compliments of Dr. Lang)

• health statistics of MTR mining communities

• commonalities between the two

I toy with the green splint on my finger and try to concentrate on what I'm going to say. I need to be convincing but not inflammatory. I need to point out that jobs can't take precedence over people's lives. I need to sound less nervous than I feel. I need to breathe.

I look at the clock over the wood-paneled counter at the front of the room. 7:02. They should be starting, but the council is nowhere in sight. I'm sure I'm at the right place because there's a handful of people sitting in the room with me, each with his or her own version of notes. No one else has a bright-green splinted finger though.

Someone drops into the seat next to me and I glance up.

“Hey, new girl.”

Dobber! I've never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life. “What are you doing here?”

He glances sideways at me, a half smile on his face. “Taking a stand.”

I remember my advice to his father and grimace a little. “Does Cole know you're here?”

“Yep.”

“How'd that go over?”

“'Bout as well as you punching him in the face. But dammit, Liberty, Peabody screwed my daddy over bad.” His eyebrows pull together. “I gotta do
something
.”

“I understand.” In my mind, I see a frail old lady on a faded plaid sofa, clutching a bloody Kleenex. “We're in the same boat.”

A door at the back of the dais opens and a group of men and women come through, the last two men deep in conversation together. The taller man, dressed in a suit I can tell was cut just for him, has Donald Trump hair and a lot of shiny, white teeth he manages to smile through even when talking. I recognize him from the photo at the town library. His library. Robert Peabody.

“Mother fucker.” Dobber's hand tightens on the armrest.

“What's he doing here?”

“You think he knows why you're here?”

“No way. I didn't tell the woman from the county what my business was.”

“That don't mean he don't know.” Dobber frowns at me. “You were talking about it at school.”

“Just to you and …”

We stare at each other, both wondering the same thing. Would Cole have told Peabody? Even with the black eye factored in, I just can't see Cole doing that. It'd be like tattletaling on me. So kindergarten.

“No way,” I say. My voice sounds about as sure as I feel. Which is not very.

Dobber sighs. “Liberty, there's something you should know. Cole—”

A gavel bangs and everyone in the room stands.

I raise my eyebrows at Dobber. “What?”

“Later.”

The meeting is called to order with the Pledge of Allegiance and an introduction of the commissioners. Robert Peabody takes a seat on the stage even though he's not on the commission. I don't like it at all. It's bad enough that he's
here
, but for him to be up on the dais, in a position of power, while I make accusations against his mine … “I think I might throw up.”

Dobber puts his hand on my arm. “Don't let him scare you.”

I nod, looking down at the agenda again, where “Liberty Briscoe” is listed as Item Number Four. I hadn't noticed before, but Item Six is Peabody Mining Company. I point that out to Dobber as an older guy makes his way to the public podium.

“Hm,” is all Dobber says.

I watch Peabody while Items One through Three complain about their neighbor's fence, the trash burning ordinance, and property taxes. He completely ignores the people presenting and spends the time texting or checking his watch. His arrogance is obvious—at one point, the chairperson of the commission looks over at him and Peabody taps his watch. Immediately, Item Three is thanked for their comments and dismissed. Apparently, the county government runs on Peabody's schedule.

I hate him even more now that I've seen him.

“Item Number Four,” reads the chairperson. “Liberty Briscoe?”

I stand and walk to the podium. I'm about halfway there when I realize Dobber is right behind me. I don't know what he thinks he's doing, but it's comforting to have him there.

“Hello.” My amplified voice is high and shaky. I run my finger over the duct tape holding the microphone to the stand. “My name is Liberty Briscoe. My grandmother, Kat Briscoe, lives on the east side of the mountain, across the valley from Tanner's Peak. Well, where Tanner's Peak used to be.”

I glance at Peabody. He's not texting now. He's looking at me with a half smile on his face. Turning my attention back to the commission, I start rattling off facts and figures, my voice warbling more the longer I talk.

Cancer rates in the valley: two hundred percent higher than normal.

Kidney disease: seventy percent higher.

Birth defects: twice as high.

I pause to let that sink in then deliver the punch. “All of these statistics match those seen in other communities with mountaintop removal mines.”

My bombshell bombs. None of the commissioners are looking at me. They're shuffling papers, staring at their watches. One woman is digging around in her purse. But Peabody's still smiling at me, amused, like I'm a kitten with a ball of string.

That pisses me off. I didn't come here to be amusing. This is my best, if not only, chance to get that mine shut down. And I need these commissioners to listen to me.

“My granny has cancer.” I hear the words before I realize I've gone off script. It works though. Every one of the commissioners looks up. “She's going to die. Any day now.” I point behind me, to where Dobber stands like a stone wall. “Quentin Dobber's father has cancer. The ‘pray for' list at my church gets longer every week. I bet it's the same at your church. You have to ask yourself, why are these things happening? Why here?”

The chairperson, Mr. Hennequin, looks over at Peabody, who casually cuts his hand across his neck before straightening his tie. His message is clear. Hennequin looks up at me and smiles. “We're gonna have to stop you here, Miss Briscoe, since we're running out of time. But I think we should all be proud of the job Plurd County High School is doing with our kids. That was a most professional-sounding presentation.”

“What? This isn't some school project,” I argue. “Those numbers I read off earlier, they're real! They have faces and families. They're people you know.” The two women on the commission … I can tell I've gotten to them. One is nodding. The other is staring through me, like the sick people I'm talking about are hovering behind me.

Hennequin ignores me. “Let's give the young lady a round of applause for her school project.”

The commissioners clap a few times, then look down at their agendas, ready for the next item.

“People in your county are dying! Lots of them! Don't you care?” My voice goes all high and shaky. I sound hysterical, but I can't help it. It's not that I expected them to shut the mine down tonight, but I thought there would at least be some discussion. That they'd show some shred of concern.

Hennequin motions to the cop standing at the back of the room and he heads toward me. I figure I've got about twenty seconds. “Weren't you elected to take care of this town? Isn't that your job?”

“Young lady,” says Hennequin, “this commission does everything it can to protect our citizens. It may interest you to know we ordered tests to make sure everyone's water was safe to drink.”

“Yeah, tests you let the mine have control over. Do you realize how easily they could have been tampered with?”

“Get her outta here.”

The cop reaches out for my arm, but Dobber steps between us. He's a good six inches taller than the cop, and I'm sure Dobber could turn him into jelly in about three seconds.

“It's fine, Dobber. We'll go.” I turn back to look at Peabody. The smile is still there, but his eyes are different. I'm no longer a kitten but prey.

“People I care about are dying,” I say. “If you want to keep lying to yourselves about the cause, you do that. But whether you admit it or not, you're responsible for those deaths.”

Dobber pulls me to the back of the room as the cop follows. Hennequin starts the meeting again. “Item Number Five: Tammy Edgerton,” he says as the door closes behind us.

Dobber and I stare at each other in the lobby until the cop says, “Sorry, but y'all have to actually leave the building.”

He follows us to the front door then says, “See ya, Dob.”

“Later, man.”

“You know him?” I ask.

“I know ever'body.”

We walk to the edge of the parking lot, where Dobber's car is parked next to mine.

“That didn't go so good,” Dobber says.

“Understatement of the year. That bastard has the whole commission under his thumb! Did you see the way Hennequin kept looking at him for guidance?” My teeth chatter over the words as I shiver in the damp evening air.

Dobber opens his passenger door and motions me to get in. “I saw. Problem is …” He pauses as he walks around to the driver side. After he climbs in, he closes the door and taps the steering wheel for a couple seconds. I can tell he's choosing his words carefully, trying to be gentle, I think. “Problem is, we ain't got no real proof that the mine's causing the cancer.”

“No. But we will.” I feel like a gauntlet's been thrown down. I came here tonight thinking the commission just needed to understand what was happening, that they'd do the right thing if they knew there was even the
possibility
that the mine was hurting the people of Ebbottsville. But now I know—Peabody owns them. “I'll find the proof, Dobber. Somewhere. I'll bet you a hundred dollars Peabody screwed with the water reports somehow.”

“I'm with ya,” Dobber says. “Like you said, we're in the same boat.”

“We are.” I barely see him, silhouetted against the streetlight across the road. His hair is sticking up like it always does and his cheekbones are more lumpy than chiseled. For some reason, I think of Cole, with his Greek god chin and perfect teeth, which reminds me … “Hey, what were you going to tell me earlier?”

“About what?”

“You said something about Cole.”

“Oh.” He fidgets like a five-year-old, tracing the spokes on the steering wheel. “It don't really matter now, cause y'all ain't together no more.”

My stomach suddenly feels a little sick. “Tell me.”

“Cole and Jillian Coffey … they been, um, hanging out.”

I try to place a face to the name. I come up with a girl in our Spanish class, light brown hair, curvy, popular. “And by hanging out you mean …”

“Yeah. That.”

Oh God. “When?” I ask. But I know already. Family night. The week before that, when he had to do something with Dobber. The Tuesday when he didn't call after practice.

“I'm sorry,” says Dobber.

Ashleigh's words come back to me.
He'll shit on you just like he shit on every other girl.
Then I remember her asking me how my weekend was. She knew what Cole was doing. Dammit, the whole freaking school probably knew. Knew and talked about it all behind my back. My eyes start to burn and I count to five. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He slams his hand against the steering wheel. “I didn't know what to do. Cole's like my brother. Well, he was.”

“But … how could you watch him being all boyfriend-y and not … just … God, Dobber!” I stare at the Kroger across the street, trying to get my mind around this latest bit of perfection. “He told me I was beautiful.” I snort and start crying and laughing at the same time. “Bastard.”

Dobber hands me a crumpled napkin from the cup holder. “Don't cry,” he says. “He ain't worth it.”

“You're right about that,” I say, dabbing the corners of my eyes and trying not to worry about why the napkin is sticky. “Look. The meeting must be over.”

The commissioners are filing out of the building. They call good-byes, get in their cars, and drive off. Everyone except Hennequin and Peabody, who must still be inside.

“You know what pisses me off most?” I say.

“That I didn't tell you?”

“No. Well, yes. That was seriously shitty of you.”

“Sorry.”

“But no, what pisses me off most is that I sorta knew, but I didn't do anything. Because I didn't want it to be true.” I twist the corner of the napkin into a sharp point. “I guess pretending something isn't happening doesn't make it go away.”

“Somebody oughta tell that to the county commissioners.”

“Yeah. Good point.” Still reeling, I dig into that swirling tornado of ick in my stomach and try to see what it's really made of. “The worst part is that everybody knew except me. Like I was the butt of a joke I didn't even know about and everybody at school was laughing at me.”

“Not ever'body,” Dobber says. “Not me.”

“Great. That makes it all better.”

“Well, it don't make it worse, does it?” He smiles and even in the dark I can see his face change. That smile is so magnetic. I think about the first time I saw it, at the campfire at his house, and how I thought he must be dangerous, charming, and cheap. Man, did I have him and Cole confused.

“Looks like the meeting was good for somebody.” Dobber nods toward the courthouse, where Peabody and Hennequin are walking out together. They're laughing as they stroll toward their cars. I can't help but wonder if, like everyone at school, they're laughing at me.

“I guess Peabody got what he wanted. Wonder what it was.”

“No idea …” He sits up straighter in the seat. “But I'm pretty sure I know what that is.”