Carl Hiaasen - Hoot

Roy leaned toward Beatrice and whispered, "Another Einstein."

Chuck Muckle pivoted in slow motion. Ominously he pointed the blade of the shovel at the boy in the owl burrow.

"You!" he bellowed, stalking forward.

Roy jumped in front of him.

"Outta my way, kid," Chuck Muckle said. "I don't have time for any more of your nonsense. Move it now!"

It was clear that the Mother Paula's bigshot had totally lost his cool, and possibly his marbles.

"What're you doing?" Roy asked, knowing he probably wouldn't get a calm, patient answer.

"I said, Get outta my way! I'm gonna dig that little twerp out of the ground myself."

Beatrice Leep darted forward and stood next to Roy, taking his right hand. An anxious murmur swept through the crowd.

"Aw, that's real cute. Just like Romeo and Juliet," Chuck Muckle taunted. He dropped his voice and said, "Game over, kiddies. On the count of three, I'm going to start using this shovel-or better yet, how about I get Baldy over here to crank up the bulldozer?"

The foreman scowled. "Thought you said I was fired."

Out of nowhere, somebody grabbed Roy's left hand-it was Garrett, his skateboard tucked under one arm. Three of his skateboarding homeys were lined up beside him.

"What're you guys doing?" Roy said.

"Skippin' school," Garrett replied merrily, "but, dude, this looks like way more fun."

Roy turned to see that Beatrice had been joined by the entire soccer team, linking arms in a silent chain. They were tall, strong girls who weren't the least bit intimidated by Chuck Muckle's blustery threats.

Chuck Muckle realized it, too. "Stop this foolishness right now!" he begged. "There's no need for an ugly mob scene."

Roy watched in wonderment as more and more kids slipped out of the crowd and began joining hands, forming a human barricade around Beatrice's self-buried stepbrother. None of the parents made a move to stop them.

The TV cameraman announced that the demonstration was being broadcast live on the noon news, while the photographer from the paper swooped in for a close-up of Mr. Muckle, looking drained, defeated, and suddenly very old. He braced himself on the ceremonial shovel as if it were a cane.

"Didn't any of you people hear me?" he rasped. "This event is over! Done! You can all go home now."

The mayor, Councilman Grandy, and the man from the chamber of commerce stealthily retreated to their limousine, while Leroy Branitt plodded off to his trailer in search of a cold beer. Officer Delinko leaned against the fence, writing up a report.

Roy was in an eerie yet tranquil daze.

Some girl started singing a famous old folk song called "This Land Is Your Land." It was Beatrice, of all people, and her voice was surprisingly lovely and soft. Before long, the other kids were singing along, too. Roy shut his eyes and felt like he was floating on the sunny slope of a cloud.

"Excuse me, hotshot. Got room for one more?"

Roy blinked open his eyes and broke into a grin.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

Mother Paula stepped between him and Garrett to join the circle. Her voice was gravelly, but she could carry a tune just fine.

The demonstration went on for another hour. Two other TV crews showed up, along with a couple of extra Coconut Cove police cruisers, summoned by Officer Delinko.

Chuck Muckle exhorted the newly arrived lawmen to arrest the protesters for trespassing, truancy, and disturbing the peace. The suggestion was firmly rejected, a sergeant informing Mr. Muckle that handcuffing a bunch of middle-school kids wouldn't be good for the public safety department's image.

The situation remained fairly stable until the flamboyant arrival of Lonna Leep, who'd spotted her son on the TV news. She was all dressed up like she'd been invited to a party, and she wasn't the least bit shy about sticking her nose in front of the cameras. Roy overheard her tell a reporter how proud she was of her boy, risking his freedom to save the poor helpless owls.

"He's my brave little champion!" Lonna crowed obnoxiously.

With a phony squeal of affection, she charged toward the wall of humanity that encircled her son. Beatrice ordered everyone to lock arms, blocking Lonna's path.

There was one hairy moment when Lonna and her stepdaughter stood glowering at each other, eye to eye, as if they were about to tangle. Garrett broke the standoff with a phenomenal fake fart that sent Lonna reeling backward in horror.

Roy nudged Beatrice. "Look up there!"

Overhead, a small dusky-colored bird was flying in marvelous daring corkscrews. Roy and Beatrice watched in delight as it banked lower and lower, finishing with a radical dive toward the burrow at the center of the circle.

Everybody whirled to see where the bird had landed. All of a sudden the singing stopped.

There was Mullet Fingers, trying not to giggle, the daredevil owl perched calmly on the crown of his head.

"Don't worry, little guy," the boy said. "You're safe for now."

Napoleon?

"Napoleon Bridger." Roy read the name aloud.

"It's certainly colorful," his mother remarked.

They were at the breakfast table, Mrs. Eberhardt carefully clipping articles and photographs from the morning newspaper.

The front page featured a picture of Roy, Beatrice, and Mother Paula clasping hands in the circle at the demonstration. The head of Beatrice's stepbrother could be seen in the background, looking very much like a fallen coconut with a blond toupee.

The caption beneath the photograph revealed Mother Paula as an actress and former beauty queen named Kimberly Lou Dixon. Beatrice's stepbrother was identified as Napoleon Bridger Leep.

"Is he back home now?" Roy's mother asked.

"I don't know if he'd call it that," Roy said, "but he's back with his mom and stepfather."

At the scene of the student protest, Lonna Leep had pitched a weepy spluttering fit and demanded to be reunited with her son. Not knowing any better, police officers had led her out of the crowd toward Mullet Fingers, spooking the bold little owl away from the boy.

"My champ! My brave little hero!" Lonna had swooned for the cameras as he wriggled out of the burrow. Roy and Beatrice had watched in helpless disgust as she'd locked Mullet Fingers in a smothering, melodramatic hug.

Mrs. Eberhardt clipped out the newspaper photo of Lonna posing with the boy, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Maybe things'll be better between the two of them," Roy's mother said hopefully.

"No, Mom. She just wanted to be on TV." Roy reached for his backpack. "I'd better get going."

"Your father wants to see you before school."

"Oh."

Mr. Eberhardt had worked late the previous night, and Roy had already gone to sleep by the time he'd gotten home.

"Is he mad?" Roy asked his mother.

"I don't think so. Mad about what?"

Roy pointed at the paper, checkerboarded with scissor holes. "About what happened yesterday. About what me and Beatrice did."

"Honey, you didn't break any laws. You didn't hurt anybody," Mrs. Eberhardt said. "All you did was speak out for what you believed was right. Your dad respects that."

Roy knew that "respects" wasn't necessarily the same thing as "agrees with." He had a feeling his father was sympathetic on the owl issue, but Mr. Eberhardt had never come out and said so.

"Mom, is Mother Paula's still going to build the pancake house?"

"I don't know, Roy. Apparently this Mr. Muckle fellow lost his temper and tried to strangle a reporter when she asked the same question."

"No way!" Roy and Beatrice had left before the impromptu press conference was over.

Mrs. Eberhardt held up the clipping. "Says so right here."

Roy couldn't believe how much space the newspaper had devoted to the owl protest. It must have been the biggest story to hit Coconut Cove since the last hurricane.