Justine McKeen, Queen of Green Read online

  JUSTINE MCKEEN

  QUEEN of GREEN

  Sigmund Brouwer

  illustrated by Dave Whamond

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  To Barbara Kidd, the Green Queen at Arthur Public School.

  And a big thank you to two of the greenest families I know:

  Ivan, Selena, Sydney and Adam Hucal;

  and Morris, Lesia, Myra, Adrian and Kalynna Hucal

  Text copyright © 2011 Sigmund Brouwer

  Illustrations copyright © 2011 Dave Whamond

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Brouwer, Sigmund, 1959-

  Justine McKeen, queen of green [electronic resource] /

  Sigmund Brouwer ; illustrated by Dave Whamond.

  (Orca echoes)

  Electronic monograph in PDF format.

  Issued also in print format.

  ISBN 978-1-55469-928-5

  I. Whamond, Dave II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes (Online)

  PS8553.R68467J88 2011A JC813’.54 C2011-903477-8

  First published in the United States, 2011

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011929400

  Summary: Justine and her friends are all about being green and helping the planet,

  one environmental project at time.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book

  on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council®.

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Dave Whamond

  Author photo by Reba Baskett

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 5626, Stn. B PO BOX 468

  Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA

  V8R 6S4 98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  14 13 12 11 • 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter One

  Justine McKeen sat at a table in the school lunchroom with her two new friends, Safdar and Michael. It was noisy and busy, as usual. The older kids were leaving to make room for the kids in Justine’s class.

  “Did you see that?” Justine said. “The guy in the blue hoodie just threw an empty can in the garbage.”

  “The guy in the blue hoodie is the meanest guy in the school,” Safdar said. “He is older and bigger than us too. He can do whatever he wants.”

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “His name is Jimmy Blatzo. Never, ever call him Fatso Blatzo.”

  “That empty can should have gone in the recycling,” Justine said.

  She set her backpack on the table. She ran toward two older students who were clearing their lunch trays off into the garbage. They stared at Justine as she reached into the garbage can.

  Safdar looked at Michael. “If she’s that hungry, maybe we should give her some of our lunch.”

  Michael poked the food on his tray with his fork. “She’s a fast learner. Only a couple of days at this school, and already she knows garbage tastes better than cafeteria food.”

  “Ha, ha,” said Safdar.

  “Who was joking?” Michael said.

  Justine was holding a juice can and some papers. She stepped toward the recycling bins. She threw the juice in one and the papers in another.

  She joined Safdar and Michael. “I’ll be right back. I need to wash my hands. You know, there was a lot of stuff in the garbage that would be great for a compost. What do you think, guys?”

  “That we’re in trouble,” Michael said.

  “For wanting to recycle?” she asked.

  “No,” Michael said, “because here comes the guy in the blue hoodie. Jimmy Blatzo. Please, please don’t call him Fatso Blatzo.”

  Chapter Two

  “What’s your name?” Jimmy Blatzo asked Justine. He towered over her and looked angry.

  “Justine McKeen,” she said. She stuck out a hand and waited for him to shake it. Her hand had mustard on it. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy Blatzo.”

  He pushed her hand away. “I heard you dug in the garbage for my empty juice can. You made me look bad. Is that what you wanted? Because I don’t like being made to look bad.”

  “You look like my cousin Joe,” Justine said. “He lives in Detroit. Detroit is an amazing city. Cars. Lots of cars. Now they are building electric cars there. Isn’t that great? It will really help the environment. I would like a blue one someday. Like the color of your hoodie. That’s a nice hoodie. What’s the picture on the front of your hoodie? Is it—?”

  “Are you listening to me?” Jimmy Blatzo said. He crossed his arms and took a step forward. “You made me look bad.”

  “The picture on your hoodie looks like the wings of a bird,” she said. “If you moved your arms, I could see it better. And maybe stand back a little. I hope it’s a bird. Birds are cool. We have birds in our backyard. Cardinals. Blue jays. Even—”

  Jimmy Blatzo’s face turned very red. “Enough!” His head looked like a tomato that was about to burst.

  “Maybe we should go,” Safdar said. He stood and handed Justine her backpack. Michael stood too. Safdar and Michael took a couple of steps back.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t!” Jimmy Blatzo said. He grabbed Justine’s backpack and dumped the contents out on the table. He grabbed her lunch bag and dumped it out on the table too. He grabbed her juice box, drank it and set it down. “Recycle this!”

  “Always,” Justine said. “Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. That’s me. Did you know a faucet that leaks a drop of water every ten seconds loses nearly forty gallons of water a month? If it’s a hot-water faucet, it’s even worse because of the energy it takes to heat the water. And lights. Don’t get me started on turning lights off. Everywhere. All the time. And—”

  “Who are you?” Blatzo said. He squashed her sandwich with his fist. “The Queen of Green?”

  “I like that,” she said. “Justine McKeen, Queen of Green. Wow. Thank you. And I also like what you did with my sandwich. You turned it into pita bread. Thanks.” She stuck out her hand again to say goodbye. “It was nice to meet you, Blatzo. I hope you’re not late for class.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “You made me look bad. I’m not letting you get away with this. And don’t call me by my last name!”

  Jimmy Blatzo saw Justine’s brownies in a ziplock bag on the table. He grabbed the squares. “This is your punishment.”

  He pulled out a brownie and crammed it into his mouth.

  “May I have the bag back?” Justine asked. “Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.”

  “Not a chance,” he said, chewing. He marched out of the cafeteria.

  “That’s too bad,” Justine told Michael and Safdar.

  “What?” Safdar asked. “That you made enemies with the biggest bully in the school?”

  “Or that he drank
your juice, smashed your sandwiches and took your dessert?” said Michael.

  “No,” said Justine, “he took the ziplock bag. I was hoping to use it for the whole school year. Plus, those brownies were part of my science project.”

  Chapter Three

  After lunch, Mrs. Howie waited for her students to be seated.

  “It’s time for a science presentation,” Mrs. Howie said. She ran her finger down the list of names on her desk. “Justine, today is your turn. Do you have something to present to the class?”

  “Yes!” Justine said.

  “Good,” Mrs. Howie said. “Come up to the front, and remember, introducing yourself is part of a good presentation.”

  Justine walked to the back of the classroom and grabbed the posters she had made. She marched to the front and turned to face everyone.

  “Hello,” she said. “My name is Justine McKeen. But I won’t mind if you call me Justine McKeen, Queen of Green. Somebody gave me that name in the cafeteria today, and I like it. It is very important to be green, and my science project today is about how we can help the environment. I want to start by showing you a poster of a cow from Argentina.”

  Justine held up her first poster. It was of a black and white cow with a huge pink tank strapped to its back. The tank was tube-shaped. It stretched from the cow’s head to its tail.

  “This tank is made from the same kind of plastic as a beach ball,” Justine said. “And the tank is filled with something lighter than air. It is filled with a gas called methane. The tank collects methane from the cow’s body.”

  Safdar put up his hand. “Yes, Safdar,” Mrs. Howie said.

  “Miss Queen of Green,” Safdar said. “I thought cows made milk. Not methane.”

  “I don’t want to be rude,” Justine said, “but I will explain a different way. The tank collects the gas from the cow’s F-A-R-Ts.”

  “Cow F-A-R-Ts!” Safdar said. “Cool! I vote that this is the best science project ever!”

  Michael put up his hand.

  Mrs. Howie had a tired look on her face. She sounded tired when she spoke too. “Yes, Michael.”

  Michael stood. “Miss Queen of Green, how does the tank collect the cow F-A-R-Ts?”

  “Please call it methane,” Justine said. “We should use the scientific word.”

  “Cool!” Michael said. “Cow F-A-R-Ts. Do you have a photo of the cow’s hind end? Is there a tube in the cow’s butt to collect the F-A-R-Ts?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Mrs. Howie stepped forward. “Class!”

  Nobody was listening. They were laughing too hard.

  “Class!” Mrs. Howie shouted. “Please, let Justine continue!”

  “Thank you,” Justine said. “It is important for scientists to know how much methane a cow produces. Methane contributes to global warming. Argentina has fifty-five million cows. One cow produces one thousand quarts of methane a day. That is a lot of methane. Since farmers care about the environment, they want to know if there is a way to feed cows so the cows produce less gas.”

  Michael put up his hand again.

  “No,” Mrs. Howie said, “we don’t have time for another question about cow gas.”

  “Rats,” Michael said.

  Justine held up a poster of a hamburger. “I’m glad farmers raise cows, because I love to eat these.” She pointed at the poster. “But it would be cool if farmers raised crickets too. Insects are good protein. Farmers could have cow ranches and cricket ranches. Fewer cow ranches means less methane in the air.”

  “I LOVE this project!” Michael said. “Cow F-A-R-Ts and bug eating!”

  Mrs. Howie coughed. “No more interruptions, please, class.”

  Justine held up a poster of a cricket. “In Japan, many people eat this insect. I added crickets into melted chocolate to make brownies. I was going to share them with the class. The bad news is someone ate that part of my project in the cafeteria today. The good news is he seemed to like it.”

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, Justine, Queen of Green,” Safdar said as he and Michael sat down for lunch the next day. “There’s something you should know about Ice-Cream Heaven.”

  “Yum,” Michael said. “Any ice cream is heaven to me.”

  “Seriously,” Safdar said. “Yesterday, I saw the owner throwing all his recyclables into a Dumpster.”

  “What!” Justine stood. “I’ve been to Ice-Cream Heaven with my grammy. There are different recycle bins out front. If he didn’t recycle, Grammy and I wouldn’t go there.”

  “I know,” Safdar said. “But I saw him emptying the bins in the regular garbage out back. I asked him why, and he said it was too much work to recycle. He said he only has recycle bins in front of his shop to make him look good.”

  “Arrgg,” Justine said.

  “Is arrgg a word?” Michael asked. He poked at the food on his cafeteria tray. “If so, I think that’s what we were served today.”

  “I told the owner that what he was doing was wrong,” Safdar said. “You know what he said?”

  “What?” Justine asked.

  “Next time he’ll make sure to do his garbage dumping at night, when smarty pants like me can’t see him. Maybe we should start a petition for all the kids in school to sign against Ice-Cream Heaven. Then make signs and march back and forth in his parking lot. That would serve him right for not being green.”

  “Arrgg,” Justine said again. She looked at Michael. “If I want arrgg to be a word, it’s a word. After all, I am the queen.”

  “You just got the name yesterday,” Michael said. “And you are only the Queen of Green. Not the whole Earth.”

  “If you care about the Earth, then you care about green,” she said. “And if you care about green, then you care about the Earth. So if I’m the Queen of Green, then maybe I am the Queen of—”

  “Oh no,” Safdar said. “Watch out. Here’s comes Jimmy Blatzo.”

  “Remember,” Michael said to Justine, “don’t call him Fatso Blatzo.”

  Jimmy Blatzo walked up and stood in front of them.

  “Hey, Queen of Green,” he said. “I want to talk to you about those brownies I ate yesterday. They were really good but different.”

  “It was probably the crickets I mixed in with the chocolate,” Justine said.

  “Crickets?” Blatzo said. His eyebrows furrowed. He was angry again.

  “Yes, crickets. I believe we should all eat insects. It will help the environment. My grammy and I made more cricket brownies last night. After you ate my first batch, I didn’t have any to share with my class.”

  “Arrgg,” Michael said.

  “Nice try,” Blatzo told Justine.

  “I’m glad you appreciate my brownies,” she said. “Lots of people think I’m weird for making cricket brownies.”

  “Arrgg,” Michael said again.

  “I mean nice try to stop me from taking more of them,” Blatzo said. “Crickets. Right! As if I would believe that. You can’t fool me.”

  He grabbed her backpack and opened it. When he found the ziplock bag of brownies, he yanked it out and opened it. He stuffed a brownie in his mouth.

  “Make sure you bring me more brownies tomorrow,” he said as he chewed. “Or else.”

  “Sure,” Justine said. “But can you give me back the bag so I can use it again?”

  Chapter Five

  “Hello, Mr. Tait,” Justine said. She was at the front of the line at Ice-Cream Heaven. “My name is Justine McKeen. Some people call me the Queen of Green.”

  “That’s nice,” Mr. Tait said in the way adults sometimes speak so kids will stop pestering them. He was a short man with a round head. He wore an apron with a name tag. “What would you like to order?”

  “A small corner of your parking lot,” Justine said.

  “What?” he said. “Are you the Queen of Green or the Queen of Crazy? I can’t give you a piece of my parking lot.”

  “It’s for a school fundraiser,” Justine said. “On a Saturday. Th
ree weeks from now.”

  “What kind of fundraiser?” he asked. “Not a car wash. The kids from the high school had a car wash in my parking lot once, and it was too noisy.”

  “It’s a vegetable-selling fundraiser,” she said. “Fresh vegetables. Made the green way.”

  “Only one way to make vegetables,” he said. “Put seeds in dirt.”

  “That’s only part of it,” she said. “You also shouldn’t use pesticides or chemicals. You see, there are natural ways to keep bugs off vegetables. All you do is—”

  “What’s your name?” Mr. Tait said.

  “Justine McKeen, Queen of Green.”

  “Look, Miss Queen of Green,” Mr. Tait said. “I’m not interested in all this talk about green or in letting you use my parking lot.”

  “What if we give you half of the money we raise as rent?”

  “Well, that changes things,” he said. “Okay, you can rent a corner of my parking lot to sell your green vegetables. Just don’t waste my time with all this talk about green. People talk about green this and green that because it makes them feel good. The rest of us have jobs to do.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Tait,” Justine said. “By the way, if you are ever interested in putting cricket brownies on your menu, they make a good dessert. Just ask Jimmy Blatzo.”

  “Arrgg,” Mr. Tait said.

  “I knew arrgg was a word,” Justine said to herself as she walked out of Ice-Cream Heaven.

  Chapter Six

  Outside Ice-Cream Heaven, Michael and Safdar were waiting for Justine beside their bicycles.

  “Mr. Tait told you he wouldn’t do it,” Michael said. “Right? I mean, it is a crazy idea.”

  “Actually,” Justine said, “Mr. Tait said it would be okay.”

  “Huh?” Michael said.

  Safdar put up his hand, as if he was sitting in class.

  “Yes, Safdar,” Justine said, as if she were his teacher.

  “Did you tell Mr. Tait exactly what your idea was?” Safdar asked. “Because I think if he knew exactly what you wanted to do, there’s no way he would have agreed.”