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。……