It all started when I got up from the lunch table to toss my carrot juice can in the trash.

"What are you doing， Jody？" my best friend Shannon asked. "You know that&apos；s recyclable." She shook her head sadly， like my dad did the time I made a smoothie1） and forgot to put the lid on the blender.

"But there&apos；s no recycling bin，" I complained. "What am I supposed to do， carry it around？" As soon as the words left my mouth， I knew I&apos；d made a mistake. I recognized the look on Shannon&apos；s face： the puckered2） mouth， the knitted eyebrows， the scrunched-up nose. She had a plan.

"Hand it over，" Shannon ordered， snatching the can from me. （Did I mention she could be a little bossy？）

Shannon collected three cans from our class that day. The next day， she came prepared for more. She filled one reusable grocery bag during lunch， and half of another after school. By the end of the week， we were hauling four sticky， stinky bags of cans home.

But I guess Shannon got a little tired of the whole thing. Or maybe her mom got mad about her sticky clothes. All I know is， Shannon made an appointment with Mrs. Yim. I&apos；d never heard of a kid wanting to see the principal—but Shannon was different. And she was determined to get recycling bins for Fletcher Elementary.

Shannon must have convinced Mrs. Yim， because soon the playground was dotted with tall green containers. Plus， Shannon had a new nickname： The Can Queen. （She liked it better than her old one： The Mouth.）

With the money earned from the first month of recycling， Mrs. Yim promised the school a pizza party. All the kids were into recycling after that.

Except for one.

Tara Conrad had transferred to Fletcher the year before. She liked butterfly barrettes3）， strawberry-scented lip balm， and tripping people during P.E. （I knew from experience.） Tara wasn&apos；t big on recycling. More than once， Shannon had picked up a can she&apos；d tossed on the ground. But not even Shannon would dare lecture Tara the Terrible.

One afternoon Shannon and I overheard the school custodian， Mr. Ray， talking to Mrs. Yim. "Yesterday was the third day there were no cans，" Mr. Ray said. "Who&apos；s emptying the recycling bins—and why？"

As they headed into Mrs. Yim&apos；s office， Shannon grabbed my hand. "Come on，" she said. "No one messes with my cans or my pizza party！" Shannon may be bossy， but she&apos；s never boring.

We walked up and down the hallways looking for clues until we spotted Tara the Terrible. As we watched， Tara banged a can against a wall. Instantly it flat-tened into a disk that she tossed into her daisy-patterned backpack.

Shannon ran right up to Tara. "Stop！ Thief！" she shouted. I gulped so hard I nearly choked. No one yelled at Tara the Terrible.

But Tara just grinned. Somehow that made her even more terrifying. "Hey， Mouth，" she said.

"Quit calling me that！" Shannon squealed. "And you better quit stealing my cans."

"Who， me？" Tara smacked another can flat and flipped it into her backpack.

"You！ Yes！ What—why—" Shannon sputtered4）.

Smack. Flip. "Whatever. Who&apos；s gonna stop me？" Tara heaved up her back-pack and strolled away.

I silently pleaded that this would be the end of the whole mess. Silly me.

"Let&apos；s go！" Shannon said， grabbing my hand again. We trailed Tara the Terrible down Maple， onto Orange Street， until she shoved through a gate. Shannon jerked to a stop. We didn&apos；t take another step until we heard a door slam. Then we slipped up to the gate and read the sign： YWCA. A banner hung from the roof. "Recycle your cans here"， it said in big red letters. "Support Our Fundraiser！"

"That weasel5） was stealing the cans—and bringing them here！" Shannon said.

Tara kicked the boys who teased her， and said snotty6） things to the girls who wouldn&apos；t let her play hopscotch with them. And yeah， she had stolen the cans from school. But donating them to the Y seemed kind of nice. Criminal， but nice.

"Stealing our cans is low， even for her！" Shannon added.

"But they&apos；re not our cans，" I muttered7）.

Shannon shot me a look.

"They&apos；re not！" I blurted. "We only wanted to help the environment. It doesn&apos；t matter who gets the recycling money. Does it？"

Shannon didn&apos；t say a word as we trudged home.

At school the next morning， both Shannon&apos；s and Tara&apos；s seats were empty. I gulped， picturing Shannon alone with the bully. Tickle torture. Noogies8）. Nothing was too awful for that kid. But then， just as the bell rang， Shannon slipped into the classroom.

With Tara.

And they were smiling.

Huh？

Suddenly Mrs. Yim&apos；s voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

"Students， our recycling program has been a great success！ Friday will be our school-wide pizza party."

The whole class cheered—except me. I was still wondering how I&apos；d stumbled into some alternate universe where Tara the Terrible and The Can Queen were pals.

"And next month，" Mrs. Yim continued， "our recycling program will benefit the YWCA&apos；s fundraiser to build a new playground. Keep up the good work！"

My mouth dropped open， just in time for Shannon to notice my confusion.

"I called Tara last night，" Shannon said. "Once we stopped yelling at each other， she told me about the YWCA. Her mom works there. They help lots of needy families."

"Yeah，" Tara piped in9）. "With The Mouth&apos；s mouth and my power， maybe we can， you know， do stuff. Good stuff."

Then Shannon leaned over to me and whispered， "You were right， Jody."

I just sat there， gaping like a goofball.

The bully and The Can Queen—business partners？

Tara—a bully with a heart of gold （or at least aluminum）？

Me—"right"？！

Tara glanced at me and grinned， so close I could smell her strawberry lip balm. Cautiously I smiled back. Maybe things really were going to be different now！ Then Shannon slipped a note onto my desk， and another onto Tara&apos；s.

"I have an idea： unbeatable kickball kickers！" I read. "First practice at lunch."

A new idea so soon？ This was fast， even for Shannon. I glanced up just in time to see Tara give her a high five.

Yep—things were definitely going to be different.

一切開始于我从午餐桌旁起身，打算把我喝完的胡萝卜汁易拉罐扔进垃圾桶里的那一刻。

“你在干吗，乔迪？”我最好的朋友香农问。“你知道那是可回收的。”她摇摇头，表情难过，就像那次我做奶昔忘了把搅拌机的盖子盖上时我爸的反应一样。

“可是这里没有可回收垃圾箱啊，”我抱怨道，“我该怎么办，走哪儿把它带哪儿？”这话刚出口，我就知道我犯了个错。我察觉到了香农脸上的表情：嘴巴撅起，双眉紧锁，鼻子皱着。她打算做点什么。

“给我。” 香农命令道，一把夺走了我手中的易拉罐。（我说没说过她会有点专横？）

那天香农从我们班收集了三个易拉罐。第二天，她有备而来，打算收集更多。午餐时她把一个环保购物袋都装满了，放学后又收了半袋。到那周结束时，我们拖着四个又粘又臭、装满易拉罐的袋子回了家。

不过我猜香农对这整件事有点厌倦了。也可能是她妈妈对她那黏糊糊的衣服大为恼火。我只知道，香农约好了要去见严女士。我从没听说过有哪个孩子想见校长的，但香农与众不同。她下定决心要为弗莱彻小学争取到可回收垃圾箱。

香农一定已经说服了严女士，因为没过多久操场上就点缀了许多高高的绿色箱子。另外，香农也得到了一个新外号：易拉罐女王。（比起她原来的外号“大嘴巴”，她更喜欢这个。）

严女士向全校承诺，用回收易拉罐第一个月赚的钱举办一个比萨派对。在那之后，所有的孩子都加入了易拉罐回收行动。

只有一个人例外。

塔拉·康拉德是一年前转学到弗莱彻小学的。她喜欢戴蝴蝶发卡，涂草莓味润唇膏，还喜欢在体育课上给人使绊子（我的经验之谈）。塔拉对回收易拉罐毫无兴趣，香农不止一次捡起过她丢在地上的易拉罐。不过即使是香农也不敢教训“可怕的塔拉”。

一天下午，我和香农无意中听到学校管理员雷先生和严女士的对话。“昨天是第三天没有易拉罐了。”雷先生说。“是谁清空了可回收垃圾箱呢？这么做是为什么呢？”

他们朝着严女士的办公室走去，香农一把抓住我的手。“跟我来，”她说，“谁也不能给我的易拉罐或是比萨派对捣乱！”香农可能是有点专横，但她从不让人厌烦。

我们在走廊上走来走去寻找线索，直到我们发现“可怕的塔拉”。我们看到她的时候，她正把一个易拉罐朝墙上猛砸。易拉罐立刻就变得像碟片一样扁平，她随手将其扔进那有雏菊图案的背包里。

香农径直跑到塔拉面前。“住手！你这个小偷！”她大声说。我惊得倒吸了一口气，差点窒息。从来没有人冲“可怕的塔拉” 叫喊。

但塔拉只是咧嘴一笑，不知为什么，这让她变得更可怕了。“你好啊，大嘴巴。”她说。

“不准再那么叫我！”香农尖声说。“你最好也别再偷我的易拉罐。”

“谁，我吗？“塔拉把另一个易拉罐砸扁，丢进她包里。

“你！就是你！你干吗——为什么——”香农气得语无伦次。

又一个易拉罐被砸扁一丢。“管你呢。谁会来阻拦我？”塔拉提起她的背包，大摇大摆地走了。

我暗暗祈祷整件糟心事到此为止。我太傻了。

“我们走！”香农说，又抓起我的手。我们尾随“可怕的塔拉”经过梅普尔街到奥林奇街，直到她挤进了一扇门。香农立刻停下。直到听到关门声我们才又向前走。我们悄悄来到那扇门前，看到上面有个标志：YWCA。一个条幅从屋顶上垂下来，上面用红色的大字写着：请在这里回收易拉罐，支持我们的募捐活动！

“那个卑鄙小人一直在偷易拉罐，然后拿到这里来！”香农说。

塔拉会踢打捉弄她的男孩，会对不让她一起玩跳房子的女孩说傲慢无礼的话。而且没错，她还从学校偷易拉罐。但是把易拉罐捐给YWCA组织似乎还不错——虽然不光彩，但并不坏。

“偷我们的易拉罐实在太卑鄙了，即使对她来说也卑鄙！”香农继续说。

“但那些也不是我们的易拉罐。”我嘟哝道。

香农狠狠地瞪我一眼。

“那些確实不是我们的！”我脱口而出，“我们只是想为环境做点好事。谁拿到回收易拉罐的钱无所谓，不是吗？”

我们迈着沉重的步伐回家，路上香农一个字也没说。

第二天早上在学校，香农和塔拉的位子都空着。我深吸口气，想象着香农一个人面对那个小混混。挠痒痒，崩脑瓜。塔拉什么坏事都做得出来。但是，就在铃声响起时，香农溜进了教室。

和塔拉一起。

她俩还在笑。

什么情况？

突然，严女士洪亮的声音从扬声器里传来。

“孩子们，我们的回收行动非常成功！本周五我们将会举行全校比萨派对。”

全班都在欢呼——除了我。我还在疑惑自己是怎么一不小心进入了另一个世界，在这个世界里，“可怕的塔拉”和“易拉罐女王”是朋友。

“下个月，”严女士继续说，“我们的回收行动会帮助YWCA组织的募捐活动，目标是建一个新操场。大家继续加油！”

我惊讶地张大了嘴，正好让香农注意到了我的疑惑。

“昨晚我给塔拉打了电话，”香农说，“在我们俩不再冲对方大喊大叫之后，她告诉了我关于YWCA的事情。她妈妈在那里工作，他们帮助很多需要接济的家庭。”

“没错，”塔拉加入了我们的对话，“有大嘴巴的嘴皮子和我的能力，也许我们能，你知道的，做点什么事。好事。”

然后香农靠过来小声对我说：“你是对的，乔迪。”

我只是坐在那里，嘴巴大张，像个傻瓜。

小混混和易拉罐女王——商业伙伴？

塔拉——一个有着金子（或者至少是铝）般心灵的小混混？

我——“是对的”？！

塔拉瞥了我一眼，咧嘴一笑，我们距离很近，我能闻到她的草莓味唇膏。我也小心翼翼地朝她笑了笑。也许现在事情真的要变得不一样了！香农偷偷往我桌上放了张纸条，又往塔拉桌上放了一张。

“我有个主意：成为不可战胜的足球球员！”我读着纸条，“午餐时间进行第一次练习。”

这么快就有了新主意？即使对香农来说，这也太快了。我抬头一瞥，正好看到塔拉和香农击掌。

没错——事情绝对会变得不一样。