Chapter 7 #2
It was the annual Nantucket Regatta, a sailing race that involved going around the islands of Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, speeding across the sound with the wind at your back.
The race always ended in Nantucket Harbor, with a raucous party that often lasted three or four days.
It was one of the most polluting events of the season, but it was also one of the biggest moneymakers the island knew and, therefore, incredibly important for those working in the tourism industry.
It was Graham’s idea to take it on.
When Graham illustrated his thoughts to Sylvie one ninety-degree day at the beach, Sylvie sat up straight and listened with buggy eyes. When he finished, she said, “I don’t know. Can we really do that?”
“Why not?” Graham said. “We’re fifteen years old. It’s not like they can throw us in jail.”
“I mean, they can throw us in juvenile detention,” Sylvie countered.
“Okay. But the planet is dying,” Graham said. “I’d rather be in juvie, making a statement, than out here watching the world burn.”
Sylvie chewed her lower lip and gazed out on the horizon. As though it were a sign, another cruise liner went past, slow and smooth.
“Okay,” Sylvie said quietly. “But I’m scared.”
“I’m scared, too. But I think that means we have to do it.”
They had to act quickly. Because most of the others in the environmental club had taken a step back, choosing to celebrate summertime rather than dip into the doom and gloom of environmental disasters, Sylvie and Graham were on their own.
On the morning of the Nantucket Regatta, Sylvie’s alarm went off at three thirty.
Terrified that her father would hear, she turned it off in a split second, got dressed, and slipped outside.
Moonlight was clear across the water. When she reached the harbor, she searched for Graham, her heart pounding in her throat.
Maybe he’d decided it was too risky. Perhaps his alarm hadn’t gone off in time.
But a minute later, he was there, breathing heavily, telling her he was sorry.
He had two pairs of handcuffs, just as he’d promised.
“Where did you get them?” Sylvie whispered.
Graham laughed. “We went into the city the other day. I snuck off and found them in a weird novelty shop. But they’re the real deal.” He let them flash in the moonlight.
Sylvie’s heart felt as though it was about to burst.
They crept toward the sailboats, which were waiting in the soft waters, eager for their big race.
Because the newspapers had written about the regatta for weeks, they knew which boats were owned by the most famous sailors and were, therefore, the best ones to attach themselves to.
After a bit of analysis, they opted for The Green-Rainbow , a sailboat owned by Jefferson Tomlinson, a near billionaire who lived in Manhattan and owned several Fortune 500 companies.
He’d nearly won the Nantucket Regatta last year and had plans to defeat his “archrival” this year.
(His archrival was yet another near billionaire.) What Jefferson didn’t know was that a couple of fifteen-year-olds would handcuff themselves to his boat and keep him inland.
Sylvie and Graham first handcuffed themselves together, then latched Graham’s wrist to the iron rod that snaked around the boat.
After that, Sylvie latched her wrist to a big pole nearby.
They were able to stand semi-comfortably, their arms slightly stretched out.
Pink light streamed across the water, and the moon disappeared in the dawn.
Sylvie and Graham gazed into one another’s eyes, both so sure that they were about to make real headway in the world of environmental hope.
Of course, the day got messy and fast.
Jefferson Tomlinson and his crew arrived at five o’clock to find two bleary-eyed kids staging a protest and immediately called the cops. Jefferson was irate, spitting with anger as he accused Graham and Sylvie of being “idiotic hippies who don’t understand anything about the world.”
Sylvie and Graham recited facts to Jefferson about the polluted oceans, Nantucket’s ever worsening ecosystem, and what the tourism industry does to the world every year. Jefferson’s face was bloodred.
“Idiots!” Jefferson cried. “You don’t know what you’ve done to your future.”
For some reason, the cops took their sweet time getting to the harbor, meaning that the nearly 100 onlookers gathered to watch the race saw Sylvie and Graham latched to the sailboat.
A photographer for the newspaper took countless shots of them, and one of the Nantucket journalists from the same newspaper interviewed Sylvie and Graham about their aims. Sylvie felt happier than she ever had.
People were really listening to them. The journalist was writing down what she said.
When the cops arrived, they seemed miffed.
They’d heard of teenagers performing rituals like this before, but they hadn’t imagined it would ever happen here, on Nantucket.
Because Graham and Sylvie had swallowed the keys to the handcuffs, the cops had to figure out a way to cut them off.
They announced to the regatta organizers that they’d need to push back the start time of the race by a full two hours, at least.
This thrilled Sylvie and Graham. They’d wanted to create chaos.
“I’m going to sue the pants off both of you,” Jefferson cried before storming onto his sailboat and disappearing below deck.
Sylvie smiled.
In fact, she kept smiling until her father showed up.
James Bruckson appeared at the edge of the boardwalk with a stony-faced expression. Sylvie found out later that one of the guests had informed him of “some crazy environmental teenagers disrupting the regatta.” It hadn’t been hard for James to put two and two together.
As James stomped forward, Sylvie’s smile drained off her face, and she clutched Graham’s hand hard. Graham followed Sylvie’s eyes and whispered, “It’s going to be okay, Sylvie.”
But Sylvie’s knees clicked together.
When he reached her, James towered over her and muttered, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sylvie’s chin quivered. In the face of her father’s anger, she always felt so small, so insecure.
She began to stutter, searching for the words to explain. But she knew that would only make her case weaker, so she clamped her mouth shut.
It was Graham who had the nerve to stand up to him. “Mr. Bruckson? Do you know how powerful your daughter is? Do you know how she’s inspired me?”
James swiveled around to glare at Graham. After a beat, he said, “You’re the Ellis boy. Where’s your mother?”
Suddenly, they heard Valerie. “I’m right over here, James.”
A moment later, Valerie appeared. Her arms were crossed, and she glared hard at James, eager to stand up for her son, no matter how many crimes he’d committed.
“You better step back, James,” Valerie said.
“Or what?” James growled.
“You’re intimidating her,” Valerie said. “It isn’t a good look.”
“She’s my daughter. I can act however I want,” James said.
“I think Child Protective Services would have something else to say about that,” Valerie said.
Sylvie’s stomach twisted into knots. More and more people had gathered, and more and more photographs were being taken. She told herself not to throw up.
“You can’t tell me you think this is normal,” James shot at Valerie.
“I think they’re our kids,” Valerie pointed out. “I think I love their idealism. I think I love that they’re standing up for something they believe in.”
“You know how Nantucket runs,” James declared. “You know how important this regatta is for our friends and neighbors.”
“I don’t care about that,” Valerie said.
Suddenly, the cops returned to pull James and Valerie away. They said they wanted to interview them. But Sylvie was pretty sure they just wanted them to stop making a scene.
This left Graham and Sylvie alone again. Sylvie blinked back tears.
“Hey,” Graham said, shaking his hand so that hers shook, too. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”
Sylvie turned to look into Graham’s eyes.
“Believe me, okay?” Graham said.
Sylvie couldn’t speak. Slowly, Graham shifted his hand in his cuffs so he could lace his fingers through hers.
When the crowd saw that they were holding hands, they started to applaud. Sylvie couldn’t keep from laughing. It was a nervous but enthusiastic laughter. It was infectious, and Graham joined, too.
Over an hour later, when they were finally released from their cuffs and taken back to the waiting cop cars, Graham took a split second to clear the distance between them and kiss Sylvie for the first time.
Sylvie’s ears rang, and her heart pounded, and the entire crowd erupted with joyful cheers.
The cops pulled them gently apart and put them in separate cars.
But as Sylvie was driven away, her lips still sizzled with the memory of Graham’s kiss.
She thought, Even if the world ends, at least we had this.