Her lunch bag artistically poking out of her backpack, Sicilee hurls herself from the Cadillac, slamming the door behind her. In fact, she’s been running so late that Kristin, tired of hanging around waiting for her every morning, got a ride from her mother today. “You know, school’s not just about classes,” Kristin informed her. “I need to have some interactive time with my friends, too.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t know, thinks Sicilee. As if interactive time isn’t just what she wants herself. Desperately. Interactive time with Cody Lightfoot. Hanging out in the hall before homeroom. Laughing and talking. Comparing notes on Brussels sprouts. But getting Cody by himself is like trying to get an audience with the Pope. If he isn’t mulching along with a gang of boys, he’s being escorted by a guard of grinning girls – Maya often just feet behind him, waiting for her moment to pounce.

Tomorrow, Sicilee suddenly decides, she’ll wear all green. She doesn’t know why she didn’t think of this sooner. Then, when Cody looks her way, he will immediately think of forests and fields of tall grass waving in the wind without even realizing it – and how much she, like he, cares about saving and protecting the environment. Thinking about Cody as she hurries towards the entrance, she is practically on top of him before she sees him. And he’s alone! He’s totally alone! Sicilee glances over her shoulder, but for once Maya isn’t in pursuit. The prize is hers! She trots the last few paces.

“Hi!” Sicilee falls into step beside him, smiling like a dozen suns. His answering “Hi” has a lot in common with a welcome sign, but Sicilee is too excited to notice. “I am, like, so glad to run into you,” she gushes. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the meeting on Monday. I was, like, so impressed by everything you said.”

“Thanks.” His smile sits on his face like a coat on a vacant chair. It’s possible that he recognizes her. But it’s also possible that he doesn’t. Just as the sun shines down indiscriminately on city and village, and on rich and poor, with the same intensity, so Cody smiles on people he doesn’t know with the same warmth he shows his best friends. “What’s important is that everything I said is true.”

“Oh, I know, I know…” Sicilee leans a little closer. “I especially liked what you said about having fun and not alienating people?”

“Yeah … well … I hope I didn’t make it sound too much like a party.” Somehow, she never noticed the dimples before. “Like I said, these are very serious issues we’re dealing with.”

“Oh, I know, I know…” Her arm brushes against his. “It’s just that, you know, before you came, the Environmental Club was about as much fun as—” As what? She doesn’t want to say something like “as watching educational TV”, which her friends would think is funny. She wants an image that will subtly show him that they’re on exactly the same page.

“As an oil slick?” Cody offers.

“Exactly! That’s exactly what I was going to say. As much fun as an oil slick.” She gives him a conspiratorial look. “And as for alienating people – well, to be totally honest, and I know he’s your friend and everything, but—”

“Clem’s the man,” says Cody. “Like I said at the meeting, if you need facts and statistics to back up your arguments, he’s got all the dope.”

Or is the dope…

“Oh, I know, I know…” chitters Sicilee. “And I’m sure that could come in really handy … but don’t you think that, besides always being so depressing, he can be a major bully, too? Do this… Don’t do that… He even wanted to stop us all from drinking soda! Can you believe that?” She touches his arm. “Some people find it very off-putting.”

“I don’t,” says Cody. “I admire his passion. He’s a true man of principles.” He half-turns, smiling impishly. “But, even Clem’d tell you, he’s about as diplomatic as a wounded bear.”

They’re still laughing as they step into the building.

Things are suddenly going so well that Sicilee can be forgiven for thinking that they are going to continue going so well.

But, of course, they aren’t.

They’re barely through the door when Maya Baraberra emerges from the blur of students like a shark from a shoal of minnows. Maya now dresses exclusively in clothes that have been previously worn by someone else and has added a new and fairly extensive range of buttons to her book bag.

“Cody! Sicilee!” Any passing stranger would think they were her two best friends.

“Hey,” says Cody. He doesn’t recognize Maya either.

Sicilee merely maintains her usual smile.

“Whoowhee … get a look at you! Talk about being in touch with the Earth!” Maya, for a change, is not looking at Cody. Her eyes move from Sicilee’s boots to the coat and finally stop as they meet Sicilee’s eyes. “That’s not real leather you’re wearing, is it?” she asks doubtfully.

Trust the Barbarian not to be able to tell the difference between real leather and some cheap imitation. “Of course it is,” purrs Sicilee. “It’s Italian.”

“Oh, wow. Really?” Maya scrunches up her face so tightly that her nose ring seems to be looking at Sicilee, too. “It’s just that … you know … I thought you said you were vegan – or at least a vegetarian.”

As smoothly as she can, and still smiling, Sicilee attempts to climb out of the trap Maya laid for her. “I’m not eating them, you know. I’m just wearing them.”

“But still… You’ve got all that wasted land and water … and the carbon emissions during production … and the environmental degradation … and all the toxins of the dyes. I mean, it’s good that they didn’t come from China with all the pollution and slave labour and everything, but Italy is still pretty far away…”

Whereas Maya’s clothes obviously came from a thrift store.

Sicilee smiles on. “I only just became a vegan. I can’t throw out my entire wardrobe overnight.”

“Oh, of course you can’t…” agrees Maya. “What are you supposed to do if you don’t have any shoes or coats that aren’t leather?”

“And what about you?” Sicilee glares down at the frayed and dirty shoes on Maya’s feet. “Those aren’t bedroom slippers you’re wearing.”

“No, they’re not.” There are few things that make a smile sweeter than triumph. “They’re actually totally vegan. Like me.” Maya swings one foot in the air so Sicilee can get a good look. “That’d be hemp and reclaimed tyres, not dead cow.”

Merciful Mother! Wearing somebody’s old tyres – it’s like admitting you eat from the garbage.

“They look like you made them yourself,” sneers Sicilee. And can only hope that she sounds as disgusted and unkind as she feels.

“Oy! Wait a minute. Pull back on the rope there.”

They are so intent on insulting each other that Sicilee and Maya’s attention misplaced Cody for a few seconds, but now they turn to find him grinning at them. Or at least grinning at Sicilee.

“I have that exact same pair of shoes.”

Sicilee forces herself to laugh, too. “Well, I’m sure they look much better on you.”

The day never improves after that. For once, Sicilee runs into Cody everywhere she goes. Now actively trying to avoid him, she has only to turn a corner or glance down a hallway to make him appear. And every time she sees him, she knows that he sees her leather boots, as conspicuous as a pair of alligators. The other person she sees constantly, of course, is Maya Baraberra. Maya, who normally tries to avoid Sicilee with the same thoroughness with which Sicilee tries to avoid her, gives her a big cheesy grin and calls out, “Hey, Sicilee, I really love your boots!”

No wonder Sicilee couldn’t wait to go home.

And home is where she is now, standing on a stool to reach the top shelves.

Several blocks away, Kristin sits on her bed painting her toenails while she talks to Sicilee on the phone. “Where are you?” asks Kristin. “You sound like you’re in a cave or something.”

“I’m in my closet.”

Kristin dips the brush in the tiny bottle, carefully wiping off the excess on the rim. “Doing what, exactly?”

“I’m trying to find something to wear on my feet that isn’t responsible for the horrible death of some stupid cow, what do you think?”

“Didn’t I tell you it was going to be trickier than you thought?”

“Sweet Mary!” Sicilee wails. “What am I supposed to do? Go barefoot in the middle of winter?” She doesn’t even want to think about handbags.

“You could always wear hightops or something like that,” suggests Kristin.

No, she couldn’t.

“And look like the Barbarian? I’d rather wear paper bags on my feet.”

“Well, what about that fake leather stuff vegetarians and vegans wear then?” tries Kristin.

Sicilee feels a new panic engulf her. “Vegetarians and vegans?” she repeats.

“Yeah, sure. They have lots of fake stuff. Cheese … mayonnaise … meat … milk. And leather. Jackets … shoes … boots … trainers … bags. Whatever.”

“That’s not what I meant,” says Sicilee. “I meant, how come you said vegetarians and vegans? You mean there’s a difference?”

“Um, duh… Yes.” Kristin turns on the hairdryer and plays it across her toes. “Why? What did you say you are?”

“Vegan.” Sicilee hears Maya Baraberra’s ultra-irritating super-cool voice saying, I bet you don’t even know what a vegan is… “I thought they were the same thing.”

“Oh boy, have you got on the wrong bus!” This is the first time Sicilee ever noticed how witch-like Kristin’s laugh can be. “Vegans are, like, really fanatical. Vegetarians are just a pain in the butt. You know, all vegans are vegetarians, but all vegetarians aren’t vegans.”

Now she tells her.

“Merciful Mother!” Sicilee steps off the stool and sits down on the floor with a thud. “Fanatical like how?”

“Well … they won’t touch anything that’s ever been near an animal. And I mean nothing. No milk, no eggs, no butter, no cheese—”

“No cheese? You mean they don’t eat pizza?”

“Not with cheese.” Kristin wiggles her toes. “And no honey, either.”

“Honey?” What does honey have to do with chopping up cows and putting them in a bun with ketchup? “Are you making this up?” demands Sicilee.

“Who could make this up?” asks Kristin.

“I don’t believe it.” She refuses to. “You have to be wrong. No one could live like that. It’s like punishing yourself just for being alive.”

“It gets worse,” Kristin assures her. “You know that sweater you were wearing today? And the blouse? They’re out, too. No wool and no silk.”

No wool and no silk? Is she supposed to go naked as well as barefoot?

“And your silver parka’s out because it’s filled with duck down.”

“What am I supposed to do? Wrap myself in a blanket?”

“Not a wool one,” says Kristin.

Sweet Mary! Is there no end to this?

“Which means that you should ditch all your mittens and gloves and scarves.”

Kristin has never shown any sadistic tendencies before, but she has to be winding Sicilee up. She has to be. “How do you know all this stuff?” demands Sicilee.

“Don’t you remember when my brother went through that post-punk, pissed-off-about-everything phase during his first year in college?”

“Vaguely,” says Sicilee. “Didn’t he have a pin through his eyebrow?”

“Yeah, but besides the pins and the tattoos and stuff he went vegan. You wouldn’t believe how torturous it was. You’d think he just got off the space ship from Mars. He wouldn’t touch anything until he’d read the label. And can you believe it, he wanted to throw most of my make-up away! And my shampoos and conditioners and God knows what else. How sick is that? It drove my mom totally nuts. It was like living with the food police. And God forbid you ate an egg! He went into mega meltdown like you’d bitten the head off a live chicken.”

Sicilee groans. Holy Mother! No wonder nobody likes these people. They want to wring every drop of joy out of life that they can.

“I have it! I have it! I know what you can do!” Kristin is so excited that a cotton ball falls from between her toes. “Just say you’re wearing fake leather or fur or silk or whatever. Some of the stuff they make now is pretty cool. Nobody’ll know the difference.”

Gloom floods Sicilee’s heart. “Maya will know.”

“Maya?”

“Yes, Maya. Little Miss Oh-how-I-love-your-boots. What do you think she’s doing when she skulks past our table at lunch? Taking the scenic route? She’s checking up on what I’m eating, that’s what she’s doing.” No wonder she smirked at Sicilee the other day when she saw her eating a cheese sandwich. It’s a miracle she didn’t say something about it this morning. Oh, wow. Sicilee, you’re the only vegan I know who eats cheese and wears leather…