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can’t afford. Meanwhile, the CEO of Argenta received a $2 million bonus last year.
    GRRR! wants Argenta Oil to do the right thing and pay what they owe.
    This is GRRR!’s first protest. They expect a crowd of fifty.
    For more information, contact Liza Maybird at [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
    Jamaica!!!
I feel like a weary soldier returned from— yes—a victorious campaign! We won!
    The Insistence, in detail:
    7:00 AM : Melissa sends press releases from her mom’s fax machine.
    9:50 AM : The girls of GRRR! (minus my friend Olive) arrive at Argenta offices with thirty-six signs, a goldfish bowl for donations, pamphlets, and copies of my essay about oil exploration in Guatemala (I got an A+!).
    9:55 AM : I despair. It’s a scrawny crowd: only six of us and a few parents. But then— wow!—girls start arriving from all directions, on bike, foot, in groups, solo. Our emails and texts and Facebook page got the word out! Next come the newspaper reporters, radio people with microphones, tv crews with cameras.
    10:00 AM : We raise our signs. People start blowing on their mini air horns. That gets us plenty of attention. I turn on the bullhorn Jennifer brought and start the chants. Workers inside the building rush to the windows. Most of them look confused, some angry, some thoughtful.
    10:10 AM : Two security guards exit the building. One’s big and angry. The other smiles at me and winks.
    10:15 AM : A worker yells, “Get a job!” and another shouts, “Go away.”
    Our fishbowl is filling with coins and bills. Total strangers join us. A worker on the third floor gives a thumbs-up through the window.
    Slick, my mother’s boyfriend, is nowhere to be seen.
    10:20 AM : Olive walks up, which is very cool because she had said she wouldn’t join the protest. She grabs a sign and hands me a bunch of papers. It’s a petition. Nearly every girl in her school signed. There are four hundred signatures. The friendly security guard nudges me. “I’ll take that up to el presidente,” he says, heading inside.
    10:25 AM : The front door opens, and a man in a business suit exits, flanked by security guards. His mouth keeps opening and closing, fishlike. Of course, it’s Gavin Helsop, the president; I know his face from the website.
    Helsop raises his hands. The crowd silences. I offer the bullhorn. He looks at it as if it’s covered in H1N1, but takes it.
    He tries to tell the crowd it’s just a misunderstanding, but everyone boos and yells.
    Helsop’s hands are trembling! I actually feel sorry for him. But then I see his gleaming gold cufflinks.
    Everyone starts chanting, “Pay up! Pay up!”
    Helsop backs toward the building. Maybe he realizes how sneaky he looks slinking away, or maybe he actually sees the light, because suddenly he looks calmly at the sky and raises the bullhorn to his lips.
    â€œCompensation will be paid by the end of the month,” he says. “You have my word.”
    Joy! For ten minutes we scream and jump and laugh and hug. I did interviews for an hour. There’s going to be lots of press. No way will Argenta be able to go back on their word!
    From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
    Liza!
Awesome! Way to go, girl!
    You’ll be hearing from some very happy Guatemalans. I called them today.
    Peace and jubilation,
    Jamaica
    P.S. My twelve-year-old daughter Libby— for Liberty—is starting a Seattle chapter of GRRR!
    From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
    Hola!
My name is Isabela Cardoza. I’m a lawyer in Guatemala working on behalf of the fifty families awaiting compensation. I would like to thank you very, very much for your wonderful work in Canada. Gracias! If ever you are in Guatemala, please visit—I have a ten-year-old daughter who would love to meet a Canadian hero.
    From: [email protected]