WA 8 final draft

Elyon shuffled the notecards in front of her and studied her audience: a group of retirees from the local nursing home, Golden Acres. Most of the them were either not paying attention, or drifting off to sleep. Still, she at least had to try. Ignoring the cloying scent of disinfectant creeping into her nostrils, she cleared her throat and gave them her best cheerful smile while at the same time trying to minimize the view of her abnormally large canines, in case some of them still had sharp vision.

"Uh, thank you all for having me here to discuss the issue at hand... which is, of course, planting trees at Golden Acres." She'd better get a good grade in History for this.

"What?" yelled old Mrs. Elmerson in the back, who suffered from hearing loss.

"PLANTING TREES AT GOLDEN ACRES," repeated Elyon in a much louder voice.

"WHAT?"

"Oh for God's sake..." muttered Elyon under her breath. She smiled again, though it was forced.

"What did she say," said Mrs. Elmerson in what she thought was a whisper. 

"She said, 'Planting trees at Golden Acres,' dear," explained Mrs. Reynolds, who thankfully could hear quite well. Elyon was instantly grateful to the woman.

"Where?" demanded Mrs. Elmerson.

"Never mind."

"As I said," continued Elyon, "Everyone knows that, of course, trees help clean the air we breathe, and that's enormously beneficial for one's health and well-being."

"Yeah, well, in my day, trees were just standing in the way of progress. Cut 'em down and didn't ask questions, we did," snapped the combative old Mr. Jones, waving his cane to emphasize the point.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," grumbled Elyon. "Anyways, what the kids from the high school and I were thinking was that you all might like to help us plant trees around the nursing home -"

"I'm allergic to pollen!" interrupted Mr. Jones yet again. Elyon was sorely tempted to tell the old coot to stuff it, but that may not have gone over well with the other retirees.

"Uh, anyways, I hope you all are open to the idea, because - well, how many of you have grandchildren?"

"WHAT?"

"GRANDCHILDREN," she repeated. Several hands went up.

"Well, planting these trees will help these kids. It'll show them that their dear old grandpa and grandma cared about the environment -"

"Whaddaya mean 'cared'?!" 

"- Care about the environment, and that they were - are - working to make this planet a better place," Elyon ended, wishing for visiting hours to be over.

"I think it's a simply SMASHING idea, my dear," called Mrs. Reynolds from where she was sitting.

Elyon smiled as more voices joined Mrs. Reynolds, and pretty soon a group of elders were shuffling up to collect fliers (which were printed in large text, of course). They say back down, poring over the fliers.

"So, um, if you'll read, there's the date, which is April 25, a Saturday. We'll be providing the materials and stuff, and there will be snacks and stuff, in case you're wondering. We'll work in the late afternoon and evening, and the forecast is calling for pretty mild weather, so that should be pretty pleasant. It'll only be for a couple of hours. We'll probably end up doing most of the work anyways," she added under her breath.

"Hey!" Mr. Jones waved his cane like a conductor's baton for attention.

"Yeeeees, Mr. Jones?" drawled Elyon, just to irritate him a little.

"Why is your hair like that? You're a girl, aren't you?"

"My-?" Elyon raised her hand and brushed her mohawk-like mane of blond hair. "Of course I'm a girl!"

"Then why do you wear your hair in that ungodly horses' mane?"

Elyon groaned. She was so tired of explaining this. "It's just the way my hair grows, okay? I didn't really style it like this."

"You look like a punk," he declared.

Elyon grimaced. "Are you done now?"

"WHAT?"

"Not you, Mrs. Elmerson!"

"Oh gosh, look at the time," Elyon fibbed, pretending to glance at her watch, even though she didn't have one. "I guess I'll see you all on Saturday!" She grabbed her notecards and extra fliers, and got the hell out of there.