For public meetings, the commissioners met in a large auditorium with high ceilings and tall windows and rows and rows of cushioned seating. Down at the front of the room, the commissioners sat in five huge leather chairs with nameplates and microphones before them on a long table. A small army of aides and assistants were grouped behind them.
When Theo finally managed to get into the room around 7:30, all seats were taken and people were lining up along the walls. He found a spot to stand near the back, and as he took in the surroundings he was astonished at the sea of yellow. Hundreds of kids were there, and every one of them had a mask and a bandanna. Many of their parents did, too.
An administrator of some sort asked the crowd to be quiet. The commission was considering another matter and would appreciate some courtesy. Theo looked down, far away, dead center, and studied the frowning face of Mr. Mitchell Stak. He was the chairman, so he sat in the middle. All five, all white men, looked troubled.
The balcony was opened and soon filled. A fire marshal announced the room had reached its legal capacity and no one else could be admitted. Far across the room, Theo saw his mother. She, of course, could not recognize him because most of his face was covered in yellow and he had the word TOXIC across his forehead, the same as several hundred other kids in the auditorium. Theo waved to her but she did not see him. Mr. Boone was not present.
The commissioners adjourned for a break and disappeared. The crowd bristled with nervous chatter and anticipation. It seemed as though the opponents outnumbered those in favor by at least ten to one, and it was difficult to believe the commissioners would have the guts to go against such a mob. Within a few minutes, the five commissioners returned, took their seats, and stared at the packed house. They were not looking forward to the next three hours.
Mr. Stak pulled his microphone close and said, “Good evening and thanks for coming. It’s always refreshing to see our citizens involved in the issues of the day. We want to hear from you and hope we have enough time. According to our rules of order, we will conduct this public hearing in an orderly and civilized fashion. There will be no cheering, applauding, booing, hissing, or yelling. No form of public protest, other than what is available here at the podium. We will begin with the formal presentation of this project, commonly known as the Red Creek Bypass, and this will be done by various representatives from the State Highway Department. We, the commissioners, will have the chance to ask questions and lead a discussion. Following that, and time permitting, we will hear from our concerned citizens.”
A group of men in dark suits stood up and circled the podium. A spokesman from the highway department introduced himself and began reading a long and boring introduction to the project. Ten minutes in, the crowd seemed to deflate as it became obvious this formal presentation might take forever. The first spokesman handed off to the second, an expert in traffic studies, and he soon buried them in a sea of numbers.
Adults struggle to pay attention to wearisome material. Kids have no chance. Theo was tired of breathing through the mask and absolutely numb with boredom. An adult behind him said, and not too softly, “They’re trying to bore us to death so we’ll go home. It’s an old trick.”
Another responded with, “Yes, that and starting at eight p.m. Should’ve started earlier.”
There was quite a lot of mumbling throughout the auditorium. Kids fidgeted and left for the bathroom. When the third spokesman said, in a dull voice that never seemed to go up or down, “Now, the second traffic study is shorter than the first, and I’d like to go through it carefully,” a wave of groaning went through the crowd. Occasionally, one of the commissioners would ask a question to break things up, but for the most part the spokesmen and experts for the state rambled on as if they might talk for hours. Nine p.m. came and went, with no end in sight. Maps and models were flashed onto large screens near the front of the room, the same stuff that had been in the newspaper and online for weeks. Nothing new.
The crowd was growing restless, but no one left. As bedtime approached for many of the kids, their parents seemed determined to stay. So what if they lost some sleep? This was far more important.
Tempers flared when Mr. Chuck Cerroni, the only commissioner to publicly condemn the bypass, began to argue with the highway department experts. This upset Mr. Lucas Grimes, a big supporter of the project, and the two commissioners engaged in several rounds of sniping at each other. Their anger and drama livened up the evening, but only for a few moments. When they finally settled down, yet another spokesman took the podium and began his part of the program.
It was almost 10:00 p.m. when the formal presentation finally ran out of gas. Mr. Stak leaned into his mike and said, “Thank you, gentlemen, for a very informative summary of the project. Now, we decided yesterday to allow one spokesman for the opposition to present a fifteen-minute rebuttal. I believe Mr. Sebastian Ryan of the Stratten Environmental Council will do that at this time.”
The crowd, having survived two hours of misery, suddenly came to life. As Sebastian walked to the podium, a ripple of fresh energy went through the auditorium. He adjusted the mike and said, “Thank you, Mr. Stak, and thanks to the commission for allowing us to be heard.” He paused, then dramatically, and loudly, said, “To put it frankly, gentlemen, this bypass is a rotten idea.”
The room exploded with applause and cheering as hundreds of opponents finally had the chance to be heard. The crowd yelled and clapped with a burst of energy that startled almost everyone, most especially the five commissioners. Mr. Stak raised a hand and calmly waited for the racket to die down. He said, “Okay, that’s enough of that. Please restrain yourselves. If you can’t be quiet, then we’ll ask you to leave.” He was pleasant, wise no doubt from years of experience.
The crowd slowly settled down, but there was little doubt it was ready to rumble. Bored adults were no longer bored. Sleepy kids were wide awake. They listened intently as Sebastian Ryan began a point-by-point criticism of the bypass.
Every word he said made perfect sense, at least to Theo, who was thoroughly captivated with Sebastian at the podium. He was smart, calm, and with a beard and slightly longer hair was clearly the coolest speaker so far, in Theo’s opinion. Sebastian was a lawyer who stayed away from courtrooms; instead, he fought to protect the environment. Theo had never thought about doing that kind of work, but at the moment he wanted to be like Sebastian. Though Theo felt a little ashamed to think such thoughts, he sort of envied Sebastian as the center of attention.
But not everyone was impressed. Mr. Lucas Grimes and another commissioner, Mr. Buddy Klasko, began firing questions at Sebastian. Everyone knew Mr. Grimes was in favor of the bypass, and as the evening progressed it had become clear that Mr. Klasko was too. Add the vote of Mr. Stak, the loudest supporter, and the bypass had three out of five, or a majority. A victory.
After half an hour of haggling and bickering, Sebastian Ryan began to lose his cool, and with good reason. Mr. Grimes and Mr. Klasko became even more aggressive in challenging every minor point. Mr. Cerroni, an opponent, tried to help Sebastian, and at times it seemed as if all five commissioners were arguing and pointing fingers. The crowd reacted badly with mumblings and groans and even a few boos that followed silly questions and comments.
Sebastian had been at the podium for almost an hour when things changed dramatically. During a brief lull in the arguing, a large and rather rough-looking man of about forty stood in the center of the auditorium and yelled, “Are you guys afraid to vote?” His sharp words cut through the heavy air and echoed around the auditorium. The crowd loved it and reacted with cheers and jeers. From somewhere in the rear a chant began, “We want a vote! We want a vote!” This spread instantly to all corners and within seconds hundreds of people were on their feet yelling as loudly as possible: “We want a vote! We want a vote!”