Page 15 of Love Conquers All

With that, he swept off the porch and down the road. Sylvie’s knees nearly gave out beneath her. She thought,Maybe I won’t end up all alone.

Sylvie and Graham’s Environmental Club began as a party of two but soon swelled to a party of twelve. They met weekly in the science classroom where Sylvie’s poster remained tacked to the wall. It was there they discussed protests, cleanup crews, and various environmental disasters occurring faster and faster around the world. Together, they made posters that tried to convince other students to go vegetarian, and they met with the school board to talk about better recycling habits and why it behooved the school district to make the change.

But Sylvie and Graham were soon miffed at how little they felt they were getting done. When summer hit and the beaches were swarming with tourists, they walked brokenhearted through the island, trying their best to pick up garbage. They watched cruise ships go by, knowing they were some of the worst polluters of their beautiful oceans.

Sometimes Sylvie allowed herself to mourn the fact that she and Graham had never kissed. Maybe their romantic life had died along with their hope for bettering the environment. Perhaps by sophomore year, they’d start avoiding one anotheragain. They’d close up their environmental club. They’d start eating meat again.

But everything changed in August of 2000.

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 forThe 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 intoone 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.

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