Destroy All Cars by Blake Nelson Page B

stairs and call Gabe really quick to see what he thinks, but he doesn’t answer. Then I call Jessica, who is perplexed by the problem.
    â€œWhat do you think she wants?” she asks.
    â€œI have no idea,” I answer.
    So the “getting advice at the last minute” thing doesn’t go anywhere. Which means it’s up to me. I go to my room and flop on my bed and lie there for a second. I stare out the window at the trees outside. I still remember her home number by heart. I dial it and lie there. I put the phone to my ear. It rings. It answers.
    â€œHello?” says Sadie Kinnell.
    It’s the most natural thing in the world to talk to her. Even though the rest of me is shivering with nerves, my voice sounds calm and clear, totally normal, my best self, which she always seemed to bring out.
    She asks about my vacation, where we went, how it was. I tell her, going heavy on the mountains and the snowboarding and leaving out the fourteen-year-old drama queen. I ask if she’s ever read Black Elk Speaks. She has, of course. She says it broke her heart.
    â€œMe, too,” I say back.
    I continue along, conversing, asking questions. It is so great to talk to her, to actually discuss things, to not have to edit myself or pretend in any way. Oh my god, I think, I AM STILL SO TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH HER. I want to cry. But I don’t. I keep my mouth shut and listen and she conveniently starts talking about the pond by Carl Haney’s house and how they’re draining all the swamp area nearby, which will destroy the habitats of the local ducks and frogs and stuff. “That sucks,” Irepeat several times. She says she talked to a woman who runs an organization that’s trying to stop the development. It’s called Save the Wetlands, and they’re getting a petition going to get the zoning board to approach the city council, etc. etc. I don’t really follow this part. The point is, this woman needs people to get signatures. Sadie is going to do it. Would I be interested? It would only be a couple days a week, after school…
    I say yes. Of course I do. I say yes before she’s even finished telling me what exactly we’re doing. Yes yes yes. I will do it. Yes.

PART
5
    James Hoff
    Junior AP English
    Mr. Cogweiller
    EXTRA CREDIT ASSIGNMENT: four-page paper on topic of your choice
THE LESSONS OF OSLO
    I went to Oslo with my dad when I was in seventh grade. He was going to a meeting there for work and he took me. We landed at the airport and went in a taxi to a big hotel in the city. At first, Oslo looked like any other city. But then I began to notice how organized it was. Like the lines on the road, the way the traffic lights worked, there was an advanced logic to things.
    We went to the hotel and had lunch. My dad said the food in Oslo wasn’t so great, but I liked it. There were lots of rolls. The cups and bowls were different. The plates were square. The forks were stubbier than American forks.
    That afternoon, my dad went to a meeting and I stayed in the hotel. He said I could walk around if I wanted, but I was afraid, so I stayed in the room and read my Harry Potter book. After a while, though, I stopped reading and looked out the window. It was cold and misty and very gray outside. The cars were smaller than our cars. And the trucks seemed like toys somehow. I thought, These poor people. They can’t affordreal trucks. They have to do everything really small and puny because they’re not Americans like us.
    I went downstairs. I told the lady at the front desk that I was going for a walk. I stepped through the sliding glass doors and onto the street. It was very cold, but people were walking around. The Oslonians looked different from Americans. The actual shape of their faces was different. But they were very trim and well dressed. I was careful to stay out of their way. They looked busy.
    I walked down the main street. Everyone had the latest cell phones