PRESENT TENSE
Chapter Eighty-Six

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

"Do we have everything?" Rose asked, looking through the pile of picket signs and flyers in the trunk of Mari’s car.

"Looks like it. Are you sure you don’t want to bring your guitar along? You are planning to sing, aren’t you?"

Rose grimaced, shaking her head. "No. I know how easily something like this can turn into a melee. I can sing just fine without it, and the sound probably wouldn’t carry in the crowd anyway."

Mari nodded, heading around to the driver’s seat. She and Rose had spent the last two weeks organizing a protest against further development in the city of Riverside, posting notices and spreading the word to all who might be interested via e-mail and MySpace. They had even enlisted Jack’s help in designing the flyers and signs, though they had done most of the work themselves.

Neither had had much time to rest the past two weeks, between classes, work, and organizing. Rose also had the responsibility of her family, though Jack had been very helpful, taking care of Lizzy when Rose was busy and doing her share of the housework. Rose wasn’t sure what his thoughts on her efforts were, but he made no move to stop her, and his help with the flyers and signs was welcome and given freely.

All of them would be glad when the protest was over, and there were times when Rose doubted that protesting would do any good. Most likely, the people holding the meeting—city and county officials and developers—would regard the protesters as a nuisance, as a possible PR problem. But they would at least make their voices heard, and maybe get a few more people to think about the problem.

"Let’s go," Rose told Mari, slipping into the front passenger seat. "We need to get there early so we can put out flyers and hand out picket signs."

*****

They arrived at Raincross Square at 12:30, though the meeting wasn’t starting until two o’clock. Some of the soon-to-be protesters were already there, as well as a few officials and one of the development representatives. The protesters had been quiet thus far, hardly noticeable, but when Rose and Mari arrived and began to unload their stacks of flyers and picket signs, both security and those waiting for the meeting began to get nervous.

One security guard approached them, his eyes assessing their every move. "You ladies need to move along," he told them. "Pack everything up and leave."

Rose shook her head. "This parking lot is public property, and so is the sidewalk. As long as we don’t obstruct traffic or disturb the peace, we have the right to be here."

"I asked you to leave."

"No," Mari told him. "We have the constitutional right to gather peaceably, and that’s what we’re doing." She and Rose both stared at him, knowing that they were right, but uncertain if he would acknowledge their rights.

Finally, he mumbled something under his breath. "You’d better not cause any trouble," he told them, turning and walking away.

"We don’t intend to," Rose told him, hefting an armload of signs.

He just walked away, not acknowledging her comment. Mari made a rude gesture at his retreating back.

A few of the protesters had noticed them and gathered around, standing back from the confrontation with the security guard. Once the guard was gone, however, they came closer, talking amongst themselves and eyeing the piles of signs and flyers.

Several members of a campus environmental organization scooped up the flyers and began distributing them, placing them on cars in the parking lot and along the streets. Several other people sorted through the signs, choosing which ones they wanted to carry. One woman, with a pair of toddlers in a wide stroller, had made her own signs, attaching them to the stroller above her children’s heads.

"Thank you so much for organizing this," she told Rose and Mari. "I want my children to grow up in a clean, uncrowded city. This urban sprawl has gone too far."

"Well," Rose said, "we can’t guarantee that this will help, but at least we can make our voices heard."

"Expressing your opinion is the first step in change," the woman agreed. "If no one ever says a word and just hides from the problem, hoping it will go away, then things will just get worse and worse. The least we can do is make our voices heard."

"How did you hear about the protest?" Rose asked. The woman looked older than most college students, though that wasn’t necessarily an indicator.

"I live in the same apartment complex as Mari," she replied, glancing toward her neighbor, who was busy directing people to the pile of signs and to the area the planned to protest in. "She told us about it. My boyfriend and I—he would be here, but he has to work—want a healthy world for our children."

Rose nodded. "I know how you feel. I have a little girl about their age." She looked at the napping toddlers, a boy and a girl.

"Lizzy Dawson?"

"Yes," Rose replied, surprised. "Have you met her?"

"Mari brings her over to play with the twins once in a while. Not that they really know how to play together, though. They’re all pretty young yet. By the way, I’m Sandra Montoya."

"I’m Rose Dawson." They shook hands. "It looks like more of the people attending this meeting are arriving, so we should go over by the building to greet them."

Sandra nodded, waiting as Rose picked up a sign reading Preserve Open Space and walked across the street with her. They couldn’t park at the convention center itself, but there was other parking nearby, much of which was filling up as more and more people arrived.

Rose looked around, a little nervously. She hadn’t expected so many people to show up, and there was no telling who was there to protest and who was there to make trouble. And even peaceful protests could turn ugly very quickly. The sheer numbers showing up increased the likelihood that it would become a mob scene.

She turned to Sandra. "Maybe you should stay at the outside of the crowd. If something should happen, it would be easier to get away, especially with those two kids."

"Have you protested before?"

"Not like this, but...yes, I have protested things, and I know that things can go wrong. That’s why I think you should stay where you can make an easy getaway. I don’t want to see those kids getting hurt."

Sandra nodded. "It’ll be easier for people to see the signs near the street, anyway. Thanks."

Rose nodded, watching as Sandra pushed the stroller, the two signs bobbing along, before turning to search for Mari.

Mari was near the front of the crowd, distributing flyers to the disgruntled officials and developers. A few stopped to read them, but others simply stuffed them in a pocket or briefcase, or dropped them on the ground to be trampled. Pasting on her sweetest smile, Rose went to help.

*****

By the time the meeting started, nearly seventy-five people had gathered outside the convention center, carrying signs, marching back and forth, or just milling around, caught up in the excitement. The tension was palpable, especially after several police officers showed up to keep the crowd under control.

Rose wasn’t sure she trusted the police, but she knew that someone had to be present if things got out of control. The last thing they needed was a riot.

Rose pulled out a whistle and blew it, getting people’s attention. Dropping the whistle, she picked up a megaphone she had borrowed and began to speak.

"I hope you all know why we’re here today," she began. "This city—in fact, this whole county, and many surrounding it—have overburdened their resources to the point that we are nearing a crisis. And yet the development still continues, and the population continues to increase. We have less and less open space, less and less places where people can breathe fresh air, where children can play safely, and where people can seek respite from the stresses of day-to-day life. The schools are overcrowded and the roads gridlocked. We don’t have room for further development, and yet the people inside this building are planning to do just that. If we are to have any hope of a decent future for this city, we need to make our voices heard. And that is why we’re here today. To let the powers that be know that we won’t sit back quietly and watch this city develop itself into ruins."

The crowd broke into applause. As Rose stepped back into the crowd, some members of the crowd responded to her speech.

"Let’s kill them!" yelled one young man, waving his sign threateningly. The police officers tensed, ready for a confrontation.

"Shut up!" another young man responded, smacking the heckler on the back of the head.

"No killing!" Rose shouted. "No violence at all! We need to show them that decent people want a better world! And," she added, "I’m assuming that we’re all decent—at least some of the time."

That got a laugh. As several protesters lifted their signs and began to march up and down in front of the convention center, she launched into her first song.

Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky...

Several people who knew the song joined her, including Mari, who was capable of showing support and convincing other people to join in.

From time to time, someone from the meeting would shout at them to be quiet, but this only inflamed the protesters further, resulting in louder shouting and singing. Rose went through two other songs, This Land is Your Land and What Have They Done to the Rain? before quieting and letting the other protesters speak for themselves.

Traffic had slowed on the street going past the convention center, the drivers slowing down to see what was going on. Most just stared for a moment before moving on, but a few shouted comments, both for and against the protesters, or honked their horns supportively, and a couple stopped and joined in.

Rose wasn’t sure how it started, but someone in a passing car threw a glass bottle against the wall of the convention center. It shattered, spraying broken glass over the crowd. Someone screamed, and in an instant the peaceful protest had turned into a pushing, shoving melee, with people running in confusion, dropping signs, and running into the street and toward the front doors of the building. Brakes squealed as drivers tried to avoid hitting the people in the street. Rose caught sight of a security guard rushing to lock the doors before the crowd could get in.

"Stop!" she shouted. "Calm down!"

But her shouts only served to further aggravate the already panicked crowd. Even as the police officers rushed to control the crowd and call for backup, a fight broke out near her.

One of the fighters jostled Mari, kicking her hard in the shin. Without thinking, she raised her picket sign and sent it crashing down on the head of woman who’d kicked her, sending her staggering.

"Mari, no!" Rose shouted, grabbing her friend’s arm and trying to pull her away. Before she could say anything more, someone grabbed her from behind and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her.

"What? What’s going on?" Rose sputtered, whirling around to see the same cop handcuffing a struggling, cursing Mari.

"You have the right to remain silent..." The cop pushed both of them toward a waiting police car.

"But I didn’t do anything!" Rose protested.

"Just get in the car!" he told them, shoving them both toward the open door.

Shaking, Rose did as she was told, struggling to climb in while wearing the handcuffs, while Mari continued to drag her feet and swear. Things had not gone at all as she had hoped, and now she was in more trouble than she had ever been in her life.

Chapter Eighty-Seven
Stories