Theo was screaming it too and could not remember having so much fun.
Sebastian wisely sat down during this demonstration. Chairman Stak wisely let the crowd have its voice. After a minute or so, with the windows rattling, he slowly raised his hand and smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “Please. Yes. Thank you. Now please be seated.” The chanting stopped. Shuffling and grumbling, the people reluctantly sat down, or those who had seats did so. Theo and dozens of others had been standing for almost three hours.
Mr. Stak said, “Please, no more outbursts. Our rules of order require that we vote tonight, so please be patient.” Near silence in the auditorium. Mr. Stak picked up a sheet of paper, frowned at it, then said, “Now, according to this sign-up sheet, there are ninety-one people who wish to speak.”
Many in the crowd exhaled. It was 11:05.
Mr. Stak continued, “Normally, when we have such a large crowd, we limit the speeches to three minutes each. Ninety-one speeches times three is about two hundred and seventy minutes, or four and a half hours. Not sure any of us want to say here that long.”
Mr. Grimes interrupted by saying, “We can also change the rules if we want, right?”
“We have the power, yes.”
“Then I suggest we limit the number of speakers.”
This caused another argument among the commissioners, and for ten minutes they haggled about how to save time. Finally, Mr. Sam McGray, the oldest commissioner and the one who had said the least, suggested a limit of five speakers at five minutes each. That would guarantee the meeting would be over by midnight, and it would allow enough different voices to be heard. He said what everyone knew—that many of the speakers would say the same thing. The other four finally agreed and the rules were changed on the spot. Mr. Stak urged those who wanted to speak to huddle quickly with their friends and colleagues and decide who would say what. This caused some chaos and burned some more clock.
It was almost 11:30 when the first speaker stepped to the podium. He was a well-dressed gentleman from a business group and really wanted the bypass. Nothing he said was new; the congestion on Battle Street was choking traffic; Highway 75 was crucial to the rest of the state; economic growth depended on the bypass; and so on. Hardie’s father spoke next, and, on behalf of the landowners sitting in the path of the new four-lane, delivered a lecture on the abuses of eminent domain. As a minister, he was accustomed to preaching, and he was very effective. A local plumbing contractor spoke in favor of the project because he employed eight crews with eight trucks and was frustrated with the slow traffic around town.
Theo was listening intently when he realized that Sebastian Ryan was beside him. Sebastian whispered, “Theo, take off your mask for a minute.” Theo did so and said, “What’s up?”
Sebastian, leaning down, unusually nervous, said, “Look, Theo, we think it’s a great idea for you to speak on behalf of all these kids.”
Theo’s jaw dropped as a bolt of raw fear shot up and down his spine. He couldn’t say a word. Sebastian continued, “You’ll be the last speaker, and when you walk down to the podium we’ll get all the kids to follow you. It’ll be a mob staring at the commissioners. You gotta do it, Theo.”
“No way,” Theo managed to say. His mouth was already dry.
“Sure, you can do it. We heard a rumor that the commissioners and a lot of other people want to see the kids who made the video. You’re the man, Theo.”
Chapter 28
Each foot seemed to weigh a ton. As Theo walked down the center aisle, an aisle that led directly to the podium, and a few feet beyond that the hard faces of the commissioners, he realized he had nothing to say. Nothing was prepared. Not a single note. He was terrified, numb, having trouble breathing, and suddenly thinking of running away, of vanishing. A familiar face appeared to his left near the aisle. It was the Major, smiling proudly with a fist clenched, as if to say, “Go get ’em, Theo.”
Theo was aware he was being followed; he could feel bodies hustling behind him and he could see the other kids moving in from his right and left. By the time he arrived at the podium, they were swarming around it. Dozens of kids, maybe hundreds, all in their yellow battle gear. Small kids from the kindergarten at Jackson Elementary, and older students from Theo and Hardie’s band of activists. They bunched together in one yellow mob around the podium and looked at the commissioners.
Reluctantly, Theo stepped up to the podium. He took the microphone, pulled it down a few inches, and tried to think of something to say. The room was still and quiet. The rowdy mob of adults was silenced by the courage of the kids.
Theo tried desperately to remember all the rules and tips from his debating career, but at that horrible moment his memory failed him. He was as stiff as a board and had never been so frightened. After a few awkward seconds, it was obvious that no one was going to speak for him, so he cleared his throat, pulled down his yellow mask, and managed to say, “I’m Theo Boone, and I’m in the eighth grade at Strattenburg Middle School.”
Mr. Cerroni came to his aid with a quick, “Are you the kid who made the video on YouTube?”
“Yes sir, with some friends.”
This brought a roar from the crowd that stunned Theo. He glanced over his shoulder and saw people standing and yelling, and he managed to smile. At last count, the video had over 100,000 hits, and Theo guessed that everyone in the auditorium had seen it, and probably more than once.
When the moment passed and the crowd settled down, Mr. Cerroni said, “Well thanks, Mr. Boone, for that video.” None of the other commissioners seemed to share his gratitude, but Mr. Sam McGray suddenly asked, “Are you the kid with the dog?”
“Yes sir.”
“If I recall correctly, according to the newspaper, you referred to the people who want to build the bypass as a bunch of thugs, or something like that.”
A few slight hisses from the crowd, good people behind Theo who didn’t like the question. He realized he had the advantage of being a kid. The commissioners could not afford to be rude or rough with him. After all, he was only thirteen years old.
Theo replied coolly, “No sir. The thugs I was referring to were the thugs who beat my dog.”
Mr. McGray nodded but said nothing else.
“How is your dog?” Mr. Cerroni asked.
“He’s doing fine, thank you.” There was a smattering of hands clapping.
“Can we move along?” Mr. Grimes said with great irritation. He was already tired of looking at all those brats out there, faces hidden behind yellow masks and bandannas.
Mr. Stak, as chairman, said, “You have the floor, Mr. Boone. No longer than five minutes.” He glared at Theo, drilling him with his black eyes. Theo could not maintain eye contact. Theo could not breathe, or think, or do anything but stand, clutching the sides of the podium as the seconds ticked by and everyone waited. He felt like fainting.
One of Mr. Mount’s more difficult sessions during debate had been the exercise in spontaneous speaking, or rising before a crowd with no notes, no preparation. Each side entered the debate cold, with no idea of what to expect, no idea of what the issue would be. Mr. Mount then announced the topic of the day, and each side was given five minutes to scramble, prepare, and try to form intelligent arguments. The first trick, according to Mr. Mount, was to relate the topic to something personal. Something you know a lot about.
Theo looked at Mr. Cerroni, an ally, and began, “Both of my parents are lawyers, and I’m lucky enough to spend hours in their office. I’ve sort of grown up there, and I’ve learned a lot, at least for a thirteen-year-old. I’ve done plenty of research into the legal rule of eminent domain, or the government’s right to take property away from a person who doesn’t want to sell. In our country, owning property is a very important right, something most Americans dream of, and for most Americans the dream comes true.” He was breathing well. His voice was settling into a nice rhythm. He was still terrified but was managing to hide his fear. He remembered Mr. Mount’s constant advice: “Speak slowly. Speak clearly. Speak deeply.”