Sabotage at Willow Woods (Nancy Drew Diaries #5)(5)

I slipped the lighter back into my pocket and strolled off, up a flight of stairs. Ms. Kashen and Ms. Meyerhoff. I’d have to play dumb when the bell rang again, tell some passing students that I was new and needed to find their classrooms. Of course, I could explore a bit now, see if I happened by them. . . .

As I walked down the hall, I wondered what either of these teachers could possibly get from sending a threatening note to Carrie. Maybe they didn’t support her ideas to improve the school, but why threaten her? These were adults, not naive kids. Wouldn’t it make more sense to simply not vote for her, or better yet, campaign for one of her opponents? Sending a threatening note was personal. It said, Not only do I not like your politics, but I’m afraid of what will happen should you win. But what about Carrie was that threatening? Even a new sports arena was just a new sports arena, not something that could really hurt anyone. . . .

As I reached the end of the hallway, loud chanting broke through the usual lunchtime din: “NO NEW ARENA! NO NEW ARENA!” It was coming from a hallway off to the right. Seriously? It’s like they knew I was coming! I scrambled to follow it.

I ended up back in the BHS lobby. Big trophy cases lined the walls, and a mosaic of the BHS Raiders’ logo was laid into the floor. In the middle of the lobby, about twenty kids were marching around in a circle, holding signs that said no NEW SPORTS ARENA! and WE WON’T TRADE TREES FOR TROPHIES!

I moved closer. These kids seem pretty opposed to Carrie’s idea. . . . What is this?

“Hey.” A tall, skinny boy with a messy mop of black hair and a nose ring pressed a flyer into my hand. “Take one of these. Read up! The future of your school depends on it.”

I scanned the flyer.

. . . but when examined more closely, Carrie Kim’s proposal has many areas for concern. Willow Woods, which would be reduced by half to accommodate the new football field, has been undisturbed for more than one hundred years, and it contains plant and animal species that can’t be found anywhere else within thirty miles. . . .

Suddenly I became aware of a shadow looking over me. I looked up and saw the same boy watching me with interest. “It’s pretty upsetting, right?” he asked in a much gentler voice than he’d used before.

I nodded, looking down at the paper. “I—I guess I didn’t realize the forest was going to be cut down to build the new football field and sports complex,” I said honestly. The truth was, all the information in the flyer came as a surprise. I knew that not everybody in Boylestown would support having so much money being funneled into athletics when it could go toward other things. But I hadn’t realized there would be environmental concerns.

The boy nodded fervently. “Most people don’t!” he said. “People worship sports in this town. It’s like nothing else matters. But there’s no reason we have to destroy the environment to give something else to a bunch of already entitled jocks.”

Already entitled jocks. Okay, clearly this boy had a few issue with athletes. Keep that in mind. I looked up to meet his pale-green eyes. “Do you think Carrie Kim knows all this?” I asked, waving the flyer. “I know she was an athlete in high school, but . . . maybe she’d change her proposal if she knew it would be so damaging to Willow Woods.”

The boy snorted, then seemed to take in my surprised reaction and shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. But I can guarantee you: Carrie Kim only cares about getting elected. All politicians do, when it really comes down to it. That’s why it’s on the people to stand up for issues we really care about.”

I glanced down at the flyer again, pretending to read over a section about the history of Willow Woods, but really just buying some time to think this over. Could the mystery note writer be involved with these environmentalist protesters? Was that enough of a reason to threaten someone—worrying that they would do damage to the environment?

I looked up at the boy and gave him a warm smile. “I’m Katrina, by the way.” Years of snooping around to catch crooks had given me a lightning-fast ability to make up fake names.

He nodded, smiling back and holding out his hand. “Barney.”

“That’s a nice name,” I said. Actually it made me think of a big purple dinosaur. But the Barney I’d grown up watching on TV had little in common with this serious, slight, pale-skinned boy.

“Besides”—Barney leaned toward me, lowering his voice like he was about to let me in on a big secret— “she’s one of them. She was this huge tennis champ in high school, you know? She was all over the papers. One whole shelf of the trophies over there are hers,” he said, nodding to the case. He stood up straight. “Carrie Kim thinks athletics are the answer to everything. They made her life awesome, right? But she doesn’t realize that sports actually make some people’s lives miserable.” He looked down at me, his eyes raw with honesty.

I cleared my throat. “Right,” I said, riffing off his comments. “I feel like I always have to feel bad about not being good at running, or shooting a ball through a hoop. But do they ever feel bad about not being good at painting? Or gardening?”

The boy nodded. “Exactly. Athletes already get everything they want! This is just one more thing.”

Barney put a hand on his hip. “So—are you interested in getting more involved, Katrina? We’re going to need all the help we can get to mount an effective campaign against Carrie Kim and her big, sports-loving, election-winning idea. And I don’t want to get too woe-is-me here, but as a fellow student, I’m sure you know that athletes will always have more power at BHS than the little guy. If they want this new sports complex—well, we’re going to have to work really hard to defeat it. Think outside the box a little. Maybe get our hands dirty.”