Theodore Boone: The Activist (16 page)

Chapter 29

T
he party began at 2:00 p.m. on the Saturday after the public hearing. It was thrown together at the last minute by the Quinn clan, all of them it seemed. They invited lots of people: neighbors whose land and homes had also been threatened, opponents who’d led the fight against the bypass, people like Sebastian Ryan and members of the Sierra Club, and many of the kids—the “yellow gang”—who had been so important in the fight. On a clear and beautiful afternoon, they gathered on the Quinn farm, behind the house, in the long, wide backyard where so many generations of Quinns had played and partied.

Hardie’s grandfather, Mr. Silas Quinn, was in charge of his huge barbecue grill. It was covered with chickens, sausages, hot dogs, and ribs, and the thick, delicious aroma wafted over the farm. At times, the bluish fog from the grill reminded some of one of Theo’s smoke bombs. Hardie’s grandmother, Mrs. Beverly Quinn, fussed about the table where a feast was being assembled. Beans, coleslaw, casseroles, deviled eggs, corn on the cob—enough food for an army.

Theo was there with both parents and Judge, whose broken leg was now almost healed and not bothered by a splint. Judge romped around with a dozen other dogs. Woody, Chase, April, and several other friends flung Frisbees around while their parents drank iced tea and told stories about the great victory.

The party was nothing less than a celebration. The Quinns were truly thankful that their cherished land had been saved, and they expressed gratitude to everyone there. When it was time to eat, the crowd gathered around the table and Hardie’s father, the Reverend Charles Quinn, led them in a long, lovely prayer. He gave thanks for almost everything, but especially for friends, old and new, who help others in a time of need.

With his head bowed but his eyes open, Theo looked down at Judge, who was hungry, of course, and said his own prayer of thanks.