Unfortunately, things for these seniors were about to get complicated. As they got closer to the jungle gym, the girls realized for the first time that the crowd wasn’t actually gathered in the park. They were congregated along the edge of it. Memorial Park, which was usually open to everyone, was now completely sealed off, surrounded by a chain-link fence and topped with loops of barbed wire. At first, they thought it was just an annoying effort by the local cops to keep them from participating in a tradition that was technically vandalism. Then they saw the sign: an official proclamation from the city that told them they would never get the chance to join the generations before them in carving their names into the jungle gym. Their legacy would not continue on—at least not in this particular form—because the park was scheduled for demolition.
Everyone was shouting over everyone, but it was Grayson Palmer whose voice kept rising to the top. “They can’t keep us out. Does someone have some bolt cutters or, like, a crowbar or something? Because I say we break in!”
The crowd erupted in cheers. Ava looked to her friends and was happy to see that Jordan was already doing her journalist thing. She had her phone out and was typing the name of the park into her search engine to get more information. Logan walked up to her. “Finally,” he said to Jordan as a greeting. “I’ve been texting you. I think we’ve got a front-page story here.”
“Already on it,” Jordan said. “Are you taking pictures?”
He nodded.
“I can boost people over the top,” Grayson shouted. “Girl with the shortest skirt goes first.”
More cheers and more laughter. Grayson was the group’s de facto leader now. He was tall and he was loud and that was enough to put him in charge. Ava wanted to tell everyone that there was no point in breaking in if the city was just going to tear the park down. But her voice was the kind that you could never hear in a crowd.
Jordan looked up from her phone. “I’m on the city website. It’s taking forever to load.”
Ava, CJ, and Martha huddled around Jordan and peered at the electronic glow of her screen, waiting impatiently. Logan leaned in too, and Ava had to step awkwardly to the side to make room for him. His presence felt like an invasion. Just being near him always made her feel insecure. Small and inferior. Insignificant and stupid. Intellectually, she knew that she was none of those things. Okay, small, yes. Only physically, though. And she definitely wasn’t stupid. Years ago, Logan had said that she was. Not to her face. It was behind her back, which actually made it worse. It meant he really believed what he was saying. Even now, it was hard for her to not feel dumb whenever he was around. Ava did the thing that Dr. Clifford told her to do when flashes of insecurity bubbled up. She recited a mantra to herself. I am smart. I am smart. Then she added a second part that definitely wasn’t part of her doctor’s advice. Logan Diffenderfer is an idiot.
Something popped up on Jordan’s screen, and Logan scooted in even closer to try to read it. This time Ava held her ground. “Sorry,” Logan said and backed up.
Jordan used her fingers to widen the text on her screen. “Bingo,” she said. “I found the information about the proposed development.”
“I like the word ‘proposed,’” said CJ. “That means it’s not a done deal yet.”
“I don’t like the word ‘development,’” said Ava.
“Me neither,” Logan agreed. Ava looked at him, and she must have been making a weird face because he said, “What? I’m agreeing with you.” She looked away, and he turned back to Jordan. “What are they developing?”
Jordan followed another link. As her phone loaded, a deep thumping beat boomed from a nearby phone. Someone was playing a song about fighting the power, and a few people started dancing. Cammie Greenstein announced that her parents weren’t home and that her older sister could buy beer. For a second, it looked like the crowd might scatter. But Grayson shook his head. “No. Nobody’s leaving. We came here to do this. We’re doing this.” He drifted over to the fence and seemed genuinely upset as he wrapped his fingers around the links of fence and stared at the jungle gym. It was so close and yet so far away. “Anyone drive a truck here tonight? I say we just ram the whole gate down.”
Jordan groaned. Not at Grayson. She was reacting to something on her phone. “Well,” she said, “I have good news and I have bad news. What do you want first?”
“Bad,” said CJ.
Jordan held up her phone. “It’s a giant-ass office building.”
On the screen was an architectural rendering of a ten-story tower. Martha took the phone out of Jordan’s hands so she could look at it closer. “Assholes,” she said. “They want to put this in the middle of my neighborhood?” She handed the phone back to Jordan. “What’s the good news?”
“There’s a city meeting in three weeks to discuss it. It’s open to the public. Anyone with concerns is welcome to voice them.”
“Good,” Logan said. “Because I think there are quite a few people here who would like to voice some.” He turned to the crowd and put his hands up to his mouth like a megaphone. “Hey! Everybody! Listen up! Cut the music.” The fight-the-power song stopped on his command. “This isn’t over. We’ve got a plan.”
Everyone listened. They hung on his every word. Just like they’d done with Grayson. Ava wondered what it would be like to have a voice like that. Loud and commanding. She wondered how she’d use it if she did.
When Martha got home that night, she found her dad in the living room reading on the couch. Until recently, he’d been on the night shift, but he finally had enough seniority at the warehouse where he worked as a loader to get a more normal schedule. It still wasn’t enough hours to qualify for health insurance, but it was a huge improvement.
“Hey, Patsy,” he said, looking up from his book. Martha knew that she should have outgrown the cutesy term of endearment long ago, but she liked that her dad still called her that. Patsy was the childhood nickname of the woman she was named after. Her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, Martha Washington. “Aren’t you back kind of early?”
She plopped down on the couch next to him. “Aren’t you up kind of late?”
Since his shift change, he was usually in bed by ten. Martha glanced at the time. It was pretty obvious he’d been waiting up for her. Maybe her mom wasn’t the only one who was sentimental about the tradition. Her dad closed his book and set it to the side. “How was the big night?”
“It was a total bust, actually. The whole park was closed off. They want to tear it down.”
“Why would they do that?”
Martha picked up the book he was reading. It was a biography of Abraham Lincoln, and when she cracked it open, it had that fresh library-book smell. “Some developer wants to put in an office building. Right in the middle of our neighborhood.”
“This seems like a weird area for an office building,” her dad said.
“I know. It’s such a bummer.” Martha set the book down. “There was still space by your name on the jungle gym. I checked a couple of weeks ago. I was thinking it would have been cool for my friends and me to put our names next to yours.”