But today, after River leaves with Mab, Mama says, “Monday, I need you to help me by working your librarian magic.”
And that means she really does need my help.
“Maybe River Templeton is wrong. Maybe River Templeton doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Most teenagers aren’t as smart as the three of you, you know.” Mama is making her voice sound jolly, but I look at her face and even I can see it is pretend. “But just in case, let’s see what we can find out.”
“Just in case what?” I ask.
“Just in case River’s on to something.”
“Find out about what?”
“Belsum’s plans.”
“How will you do that?” I wonder.
“By asking the librarian.” Mama kisses the top of my head, even though I do not like germs or touching. “Even if it’s bad news, better to know. Knowledge is power. See what you can find, love. Mirabel and I have to go to work.”
Mama always says that—“Knowledge is power”—but she also says knowledge is depressing, demoralizing, soul crushing, mad making, and despair inducing, so I do not know if it is worth it. She says knowledge is power, but she also says there is such a thing as knowing too much as well as such a thing as too much power, depending on whose. Mama says knowledge is power but only if what you know is actually true.
She used to have an alert on her computer to tell her when Belsum was in the news so she could have all the knowledge about them for her lawsuit, but too many of the alerts alerted her to things that were not true. She was alerted to news articles by scientists who said GL606 was harmless, but Russell discovered those scientists were being paid by Belsum. She was alerted to news articles by chemists who said the level of toxicity in our river was so low it was undetectable, but Russell discovered those chemists were being paid by Belsum too. She was alerted to news articles by researchers who said there would be no short- or long-term damage to the people of Bourne, but she looked around at the people of Bourne and didn’t need Russell to discover who those researchers were being paid by as well. So she took the news alert off her computer.
This is one reason we did not have any warning about the Templetons coming to town or the plant reopening. Another is because we were facing the wrong way. Mama was looking backward, toward the past, at what happened before, but the important part was getting ready to come. And now it is here.
I like to research in books because they smell nice, tell stories, and are in my house. But I also like to research online because you can set your screen to show yellow text on a black background or black text on a yellow background. You cannot do this with books. I have a lot of books, and none of them have yellow words or yellow backgrounds. And if what you read online is upsetting, you can turn both the words and the background yellow. You cannot read yellow words on a yellow background. Even for me, that is too much yellow.
So while Mab is off with River in the woods and Mama and Mirabel leave for work, I go online. It is slow because internet in Bourne is slow, but slow is better than intermittent and unpredictable which is what cellular telephone service is in Bourne, and when your cellular telephone does not work you think if only you wave it around or stick it out the window or climb on a roof it might, but this is false hope because it never does and also because climbing on a roof is dangerous, whereas if your internet is slow you might be sad but you are not in peril.
Ninety-eight minutes later, I have read and learned, which are two things a librarian is supposed to do, but I am more confused than I was before so I might not be the kind of librarian Mama needs.
I find out that Belsum Basics is officially registered as a wholly owned subsidiary of Belsum Chemical. I find out there is a new slogan, and it is trademarked, and it is “Belsum Basics for Life” which makes sense since “Belsum Chemical: We Might Kill You” is memorable, which is one thing Mrs. Lasserstein says a slogan is supposed to be, but not a major selling point, which is the other.
I find out a company called Harburon Analytical, the most exacting, state-of-the-art independent testing and chemical analysis company in the world, says Bourne’s water supply is one of the safest in the nation. I find out they gave Belsum a grade as if Belsum were a student at Bourne Memorial High School, and that grade was an A-plus.
I find out Duke Templeton thinks of the citizens of Bourne like family, and Duke Templeton is so certain his plant is safe that his own son has moved to town to head up resumed operations, and Duke Templeton feels touched and honored because the citizens of Bourne are all so thrilled Belsum is back.
Which means I have not found out anything at all.
I find a picture of Duke Templeton on a horse, but there is nothing in any of the articles about a horse. I find a picture of Duke Templeton with big scissors cutting a big bow, surrounded by seventeen people the caption says are new employees of the new Bourne plant on opening day. I go downstairs and find the Oxford English Dictionary under the double boiler in the cabinet and take its domed magnifying glass upstairs with me and look at each of the faces surrounding Duke Templeton and grinning at the camera and excited about their new jobs, but I do not recognize a single one which means either they were lucky and left and are living elsewhere, or they were unlucky. And living nowhere.
I find a picture that looks like a crack in the earth after an earthquake or a portal to hell lined with lava or a gushing, sliced-open artery in the body of an about-to-be-dead giant. But really it is our river on the first day it turned green. The photograph is black and white so you cannot tell it was green unless you know, which I do, but you can tell that it was very, very wrong.
I print out the pictures and cut them all up into tiny tiny tiny pieces until they look like grains of rice but, more accurately, are confetti made out of Duke Templeton’s words and face and horse and ruined plant and ruined river. I have been saving a box that used to contain banana pudding mix, and I cut it into a postcard, and over the side that lists ingredients and nutritional information, I glue the Duke Templeton confetti, shards of his giant scissors, halves of letters, sometimes a comma or period, but no pieces large or neighborly enough to make a whole word, even a short one.
And on the other side, I write:
Dear Mama,
I have gained some knowledge, but I do not think it has given me power. Duke Templeton can lie and does lie, and I cannot and do not, so I do not know why he is CEO of a company and I have to take classes to learn what facial expressions mean. I am sorry I was not able to help you.
Your librarian and daughter,
Monday
Three
Saturday evenings at the bar are my favorites. They’re most crowded so I’m most forgotten. They’re most normal, like what I imagine regular bars in regular towns look like on regular Saturday nights—drinking that seems more fun than depressed, laughter that seems more genuine than sarcastic—what’s supposed to be rather than what is.
All the way over, Nora’s reassuring herself while pretending she’s reassuring me. “There’s no way, Mir. None. No way. He’s wrong. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. A company that size is never going to tell its secrets to a sixteen-year-old, even if he is the CEO’s grandson. Besides, Omar would never let it happen again. It’s got to be that the lawsuit’s got everyone panicked. That has to be it, don’t you think? I know you do. You’re so smart, Mir-Mir. Don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be just fine, Mirabel, my belle.”