Free The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love by Dyan Sheldon

that neither Maya Baraberra nor Sicilee Kewe would join anything – not even the last lifeboat off a sinking ship – if the other was in it. And then she sees Sicilee and Maya – cleverly able to glare at each other while looking elsewhere – insert themselves into chairs on either side of Cody Lightfoot as though they’re bodyguards protecting an important politician.
    Ms Kimodo’s smile returns.

Chapter Fifteen

More than one person thinks of leaving, but doesn’t
    You might think that, confronted with this sudden surge of interest in saving the planet, Clemens would be a little nonplussed – or at least surprised. Where did all these girls come from? he might wonder. Why are they here? Are they lost? Drunk? Hypnotized? Is someone playing a joke?
    But Clemens (unlike some people I might mention) has fewer sides than a circle. It is part of his charm that he is so sincere in his own beliefs and motives that he assumes the same of others. Which means that, in this instance, after months of mockery and hostility, he takes it for granted that the Clifton Springs Environmental Club is experiencing the first packed meeting in its history simply because his fellow students are listening to him at last. They’ve woken up and smelled the toxic waste. They’ve seen the light pouring through the gaping hole in the ozone layer. They finally realize that it’s better to have a few very old trees at the edge of the campus than a state-of-the-art sports centre with an Olympic-size pool. Clemens looks around the crowded room and smiles. Gloating isn’t really in his nature, but oh how he wishes that he could see Dr Firestone’s face when he hears about this.
    At exactly 3.45 p.m., Clemens gets to his feet (knocking Joy Marie’s pen and notepad to the floor and stepping on the pen) and calls the meeting to order.
    “Hi,” says Clemens. The paperclip holding his glasses together seems to wave in greeting as he adjusts them. “Firstly, I’d like to thank you all for coming.” Today, in honour of the occasion, he is wearing another of his homemade T-shirts: Trees Don’t Grow on Money. “It’s a gratifying turnout.” He removes a red bandanna from his pocket and blows his nose. “I see a lot of unfamiliar faces, so for the benefit of all our new members, I’d like to start the meeting by saying a little about the club and why we set it up and what it hopes to achieve and so forth.”
    Chairs scrape and feet shuffle. The old members glance at the clock and sit back, resigned. The smiles disappear from the faces of the new members, to be replaced with looks of concern. Only Cody, who, of course, was not here for the Christmas diatribe or the infamous Earth Day Speech, smiles back as though he thinks this is a pretty awesome idea and can’t wait to hear what Clemens has to say.
    Reassured by Cody’s smile, the others all relax again, prepared to believe that this won’t be as bad as they fear it will be. But sadly, like so many beliefs, this one is ill-founded. Clemens “saying a little about the club … and so forth” includes a list of the crises facing the world. It’s a very long list.
    Within only minutes, Sicilee is so done that if she were a cake in the oven she’d be burning. She cups her hands over her mouth as if she’s giving every word that Clemens utters serious thought, but really it’s so Cody doesn’t see her yawn.
    Up until now, the most soul-destroyingly boring experience Sicilee ever had was the summer her father decided they should do a family road trip instead of flying to a foreign beach with cabanas and waiter service for their summer vacation. The car broke down approximately two million miles from nowhere in some Podunk mountains. And because they were in some Podunk mountains, the cell phones didn’t work. Nor did the entertainment system, the AC or the radio (though that was not the fault of rural America, but whatever was wrong with the car). It was over two hours before help