Acting Out

  Gran and Maggie nod. Gran begins an IV, and Maggie leaves to get the dog’s owner.

  “Okay, Jinx,” Gran coos to the dog, petting his neck. “Let’s find out why it all hurts so much.”

  An hour later, Gran has stabilized Jinx. She lets us have a break while she talks to the dog’s family, so my cousin and I head to the kitchen. Saving animals makes you hungry!

  Maggie pulls out the box of Pop-Tarts. “Want one?” she asks, taunting me.

  “Sure,” I say. Maggie is surprised. So am I. Curiosity has gotten the better of me, I suppose. How bad can they be? And Maggie loves them. It would be nice to share something with my cousin other than popcorn.

  The toaster springs up two lightly browned rectangles. Maggie hands me one wrapped in a napkin, warm and smelling of strawberry. It’s frosted and covered in red and pink sprinkles. I’m sure it doesn’t need all that extra sugar to top it off, but it does look pretty. Maggie pours us each a small glass of milk and flops down in the chair opposite me.

  “Oh come on, take a bite,” she says, and chomps a mouthful. I nibble the corner. It doesn’t taste like much. I take a bigger bite and the warm strawberry filling oozes pleasantly into my mouth. Uh-oh. It’s delicious. Now I know why Maggie and Gran are hooked on these things.

  “It’s…not bad,” I lie.

  Maggie raises her eyebrows and gets up and puts two more Tarts in the toaster. She sits back down and starts spinning her empty glass of milk on the table.

  “So what do you know about your mom’s movie?” she says, looking at her glass, not directly at me.

  “It’s an independent film with a small budget but some big stars,” I reply. I’ve gotten so used to people asking this question, the response comes automatically.

  “Is your mom one of the big stars?” Maggie stops spinning her glass and looks up.

  “Not even close. But she hopes this movie will get her closer to becoming one.”

  “Gran really hasn’t told me about it. I have the feeling she knows practically nothing about what’s going on.”

  “I know practically nothing, too,” I say, a little sullenly. Then I reconsider. “Well, maybe that’s not entirely true.” I take a sip of my milk and continue. “It’s a trilogy. I overheard her talking to her agent about the filming schedule. If the financial backing comes through, they’ll film the three movies one after the other without a break.”

  Maggie hands me another Pop-Tart and refills our glasses. “So what else is there to know, then?”

  I take a big sip of milk and choke on it a little. “My mother hasn’t told me any of this. If I hadn’t overheard her conversation I’d assume I was just here for the rest of the school year. And maybe I am; who knows? But then there’s summer, and she said I can visit on set then. Visit, because I’m living here? Or visit from some apartment Mom and I are sharing in Vancouver?”

  I bang my glass down, and a little milk splashes up and onto the table.

  “Oops,” I say.

  Maggie jumps up from her chair and says, “Lemme get it.” She starts wiping the table with the dishcloth and nods for me to continue.

  I start toying with my napkin. “Filming is stressful for Mom. She loves it, you know? But as time goes by, she becomes less and less of a mom and more of…well, a distracted and messy roommate.”

  Maggie nods. “I guess that’s why it’s good that you’re here.”

  “But for how long? Wouldn’t it be nice to know at least that?”

  “Just ask her,” she says. “Just ask your mom how long she thinks you’ll be here. And if she doesn’t know, ask her when she will know.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Listen, Gran is great, but if I had a mom, I know I would talk to her about important things.”

  I shake my head. “Mom—”

  Maggie interrupts again. “Your mom is fun, funny, and bighearted—but she is impulsive. And you? You’re stubborn, like me, I guess. What can it hurt to ask her directly?” She sighs and turns away.

  I don’t know. I guess Maggie’s right. I have a right to know how long I’ll be in Ambler. If Mom gets mad that I’m asking, at least there are three thousand miles between us. She really can’t punish me from Vancouver. What can it hurt?

  I look over at my cousin. She’s petting Sherlock, who has wandered in from another room. I realize that as frustrating as my mom can be to deal with, I should be grateful that I have her. Maggie’s parents died in a car crash when she was a baby. All she has is Gran. A great veterinarian, a wonderful grandmother, but still, Gran is not Maggie’s mother. I’ve heard Maggie tell people that Gran is a great mom and a great dad. But Maggie doesn’t really know what it’s like to have a mom who was her own age not so long ago. A mom who knows the latest fashions. A mom who knows which bands are cool and which magazines to buy. A mom like mine, when I have her.

  We finish our Pop-Tarts in silence. Sherlock settles his big old self beneath Maggie’s chair. Soon, he is huffing and snoring away.

  I decide we need to have a big salad for supper after all that sugar and fat. Maggie pulls out the homework she’s been putting off during spring break. She sits down at the kitchen table and huffs just like Sherlock. Bored already, I guess. Maggie has never liked schoolwork all that much.

  I chop vegetables and think about school starting up on Monday. Just two days away. School in Ambler, Pennsylvania, again. And for how long? Most likely I’ll finish out the year here. Will I start school again in the fall with Maggie, or will I be back with my friends in California? Will I be here a couple of years? I chop the celery so hard, Maggie looks up from her math.

  “Need help with that stuff?” she asks.

  “This ‘stuff’ is celery, and no, I don’t,” I say. “I’ll let you know when supper’s ready.”

  Maggie goes back to her books, and I fling the chopped celery into the bowl of lettuce. I peel and shred some carrots and feel my shoulders relax a little. Carefully, I slice tomatoes and sweet red peppers. Soon I have assembled a beautiful, colorful bowl of vegetables. I might not have any answers about the future, but I feel much calmer knowing that soon I’m going to pin Mom down with my questions.

  Maggie and I eat by ourselves because Gran hasn’t returned from the clinic. My cousin doesn’t even complain about the salad. Maybe my Pop-Tart peace treaty did the trick.

  Much later, Gran finally comes home. Maggie and I have waited up for her in the kitchen. Well, I’ve waited up. Maggie is asleep on top of her homework. My mind is racing with thoughts of Jinx and Rover.

  Gran pats her on the shoulder as she goes by and wearily says, “I need a shower, and you girls ought to be in bed. I think Jinx has turned the corner.”

  Maggie wakes, startled. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.

  “I suspect ethylene glycol,” Gran says, and heads to her room.

  “Again?!” I look at Maggie.

  “It’s terrible!” Maggie shakes her head.

  “This can’t be a coincidence. We need to find out where the antifreeze is coming from, and whether it’s deliberate or accidental.” I stand and stretch.

  Maggie nods. “The other Vet Volunteers don’t even know that it’s antifreeze yet. We ought to get everyone together tomorrow and brainstorm.”

  Well, David knows. But somehow I don’t feel like telling my cousin that David and I spent time together today. Maggie knows me pretty well, and I don’t want her guessing that I went over to the Hutchinsons’ hoping to see Brian. Instead, I suggest that we start brainstorming tonight.

  “I’ve actually been working on this already if you want to take a look before tomorrow—”

  “You have? That’s great, Zoe! But I’m sorry, I can’t stay up any longer,” Maggie says. “I promise we can work on it tomorrow. G’night.”

  I’m tired, too, but tonight’s news has me even more determined to get things going. I rummage through the junk drawer until I find construction paper and markers. I have
plenty of work to do tonight. But first, I call my mom on her cell phone. It goes straight to voicemail, so I leave a message and turn to my computer. I send one email to the Vet Volunteers about the meeting and another to my mother about my life. I tell her about Jinx and Rover, and how cool the Wrenches and Roses hangout is. I’ll save my big questions for when we talk on the phone.

  Once that’s done, I work for another couple of hours on the computer, checking every now and then to see if Mom has responded to my email. Between flips over to my email account, I’ve managed to set up a simple website for the Vet Volunteers. We can use it for a lot of things, but my first idea is to create short video public service announcements, or PSAs, and post them on the site. I’m sure the other kids will be excited to act in them. We can give valuable information to the public about all kinds of animal care, starting with antifreeze dangers. I can direct—I’ve been on set enough times to pick up some tips. And Mom has always told me I’m a natural actress, just like her, so I can show the other Vet Volunteers how it’s done. I won’t even tell my mother about it. Once we’re done, I’ll just send her a link to the site. I bet she’ll be really proud of me when she sees me following in her footsteps and helping animals. It might even make her miss me more.

  I check one last time to see if Mom has answered my email. Still nothing. She hasn’t returned my phone call, either. My heart sinks. I shut everything down and go to bed.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, the Vet Volunteers meet at Wrenches & Roses. Mrs. Darrow has left a plate of veggies and dip for us. Once we’re all settled in our beanbags—and Cuddles is hopping all over that lime-green carpet—I try to get everyone’s attention.

  “Ahem,” I say, clearing my throat and waving my arms.

  No one pays attention. “Uh-hmmm!” I say again, even louder.

  Sunita notices and nudges Brenna. The boys keep talking. “Uh-hmmm,” I repeat, and kick David in the shin.

  “Hey! Whadja do that for?” he says, rubbing his leg.

  Oh, come on. He’s being dramatic. I didn’t kick him hard. It was really more of a strong nudge. At least now everyone is quiet and paying attention to me.

  “Okay, guys. I have an announcement.” I speak slowly so they will understand how important this is. I am wearing my most serious outfit: black turtleneck, black jeans, and a teal scarf for a little pop of color. It makes me feel very artistic.

  I take a deep breath and say, “We need to discuss antifreeze.”

  No one says anything.

  “We sell antifreeze,” Josh says. “Do you need some? I can run up and ask my dad for a gallon.” He rises from his chair. Maggie shakes her head, and Josh sits back down.

  “No,” Maggie says. “We don’t need any. Antifreeze poisoning is what Puff died from. And we had a very sick dog in the clinic last night, and Gran says he has antifreeze poisoning, too. She still isn’t sure if he’s going to make it.”

  Argh, she just blurted it all out! I was building up to the explanation for dramatic effect. I was going to tell them all the details as soon as I knew I had everyone’s attention.

  Sunita’s eyes grow wide.

  “So you think there could be someone intentionally poisoning animals? Or maybe there’s an antifreeze leak somewhere?” she asks.

  “Well, we don’t know for sure, of course. But with two cases of antifreeze poisoning, we should start looking into both,” I reply.

  “We’ve had a report of dead raccoons, a whole family of them,” Brenna says. Her family runs a wildlife rehabilitation center. “I wonder if it could be related. I’d better call my folks.” Brenna gets up and dials her cell. I watch her move to the Ping-Pong table end of the basement to talk quietly.

  “So the way I see it, we have a two-part project ahead of us.” I look at the Vet Volunteers one by one to be sure that everyone is ready to hear this. Good. We’re all focused today. I motion to Maggie to hold up my construction paper posters.

  Brenna is off the phone and settled again in her chair. I point to the first poster.

  “This is antifreeze—”

  “Or ethylene glycol,” Maggie interrupts.

  “Or ethylene glycol,” I continue. “Sometimes it’s called engine coolant, too. Anyway, we’ll just refer to it as antifreeze. This is what it looks like.”

  The Vet Volunteers lean forward in their chairs to see the picture I’ve printed from the Internet.

  My six facts are printed on the posters, but I know that it will have more impact if I also recite them to the group. So I begin:

  “Antifreeze is a bright yellow or bright green liquid with a slightly sweet smell and taste.

  Antifreeze is used in the radiators of cars, trucks, and other motor vehicles, like boats and RVs, to keep them from overheating in the summer or freezing in the winter.

  Antifreeze can leak out of vehicles when radiators and cooling lines are damaged.

  People may spill antifreeze if they don’t pour carefully.

  Spilled and leaked antifreeze is appealing to animals and young children because of its color, its smell, and its sweet taste.”

  I take a big breath. “This is our most important fact:

  Antifreeze is a powerful poison, so sipping or just licking it can kill an animal or a small child.”

  I look around at a speechless Vet Volunteers group. And then, everyone seems to talk at once. Josh remembers hearing about antifreeze poisoning at his old school in Pittsburgh; Sunita asks about symptoms; Brenna takes notes. Cuddles hops around under the table, then stands on her hind legs to see what is up there. Jules plucks a carrot stick from the plate and gives it to her. Cuddles goes to work on her treat.

  “Everyone? Everyone?” I need them to focus so they can hear the rest of my plan. Once they’ve settled again, I take another deep breath and tell them the exciting part.

  “I think we need to design a public awareness campaign about the dangers of antifreeze,” I say.

  “But first we should try to find out if these poisonings are accidental or intentional,” Brenna says. “We need to find out where the antifreeze is coming from before more animals die!”

  “Or kids!” David says. “Just look at Zoe’s list; kids can die from it, too.”

  I jump back in. “Well, yeah, I already thought of that. This brings me to my second poster.” Gosh, they sure know how to mess up an orchestrated moment. I’ll explain the PSAs to them later, I guess.

  I point to the second poster that Maggie holds. “We need to find out if any other vets around Ambler have treated animals with antifreeze poisoning. We need to check with the wildlife rehab.” I nod at Brenna. “And we ought to check with state-park rangers, too.”

  Jules adds, “Let’s not forget the animal shelter. There are a couple vets on staff there and they may have noticed something.”

  “Perfect!” Brenna says. “We may be able to find a geographic center for these cases.”

  David looks confused. “Huh?”

  Brenna has taken over. “By talking to wildlife specialists and vets who have treated sick pets, we can map where these animals have been. Then we can find the source of the antifreeze.”

  “And if we can find it, then we can clean it up and prevent other animals and children from finding it,” Sunita chimes in.

  “Exactly!” I am happy that everyone gets my plan, but I had a really exciting ending for my presentation. I was going to dramatically introduce my PSA idea by pretending that I’m an announcer on television. Oh well. No reason to bother with it now; everyone is already dividing up the duties.

  Brenna and Jules will contact the state-park rangers and Brenna’s own parents. Jules will also call the animal shelter. Sunita and Maggie will talk to Gran and the other vets around Ambler. Josh and David will get a map and chart where the sick animals have been.

  “And what will you be doing?” David asks me.

  “I will be compiling all of our results and working on details of the PSAs.”

  “What PS
As?” Brenna asks.

  “Well, I was going to go over that now. But I think I’ll wait until we get a handle on finding the source of the antifreeze,” I say, looking around the room. “I can tell you the PSA part will be exciting, and it will involve all of us.” And maybe even get my mother interested in my life again.

  David looks at Josh and shrugs. Brenna shakes her head and pulls out her phone.

  I hear Sunita whisper to Maggie, “Do you know what she’s planning?”

  “No idea,” Maggie answers.

  Good. I’ve managed to maintain a little drama.

  We begin our research right away. I watch as the Vet Volunteers pair up, sharing clipboards and paper. Josh and David go upstairs to see if the store has an area map. Everyone is getting down to business, so I pull out my pad and start writing out my ideas for the first PSA.

  We’ve only been working for about ten minutes when Josh and David return with a rolled-up map and a big corkboard. Josh leans the corkboard against one of the big bookcases and David pins the map up. Brenna, still on the phone, walks over to the map. Jules carries her clipboard over to Josh. From where I’m sitting, I see him look at what Jules has written and poke a few colored pins into the map. David wraps colored string around the pins. Interesting. That must be a region they found sick animals in.

  I can hear Maggie talking with Gran. Sunita takes notes as Maggie repeats what Gran is telling her. This is going to work, I can tell!

  Two hours later, we have nine pins on the map, indicating reported cases of antifreeze poisoning. Five are for pets, including Jinx, and four are for wild animals that have been diagnosed with, or are assumed to have, antifreeze poisoning. David and Josh stretch the string between the pinpoints, creating a circle. The Vet Volunteers huddle around the map.

  “X marks the spot!” David says, pointing.

  “Hey, that’s not far from my house!” Brenna exclaims, peering at the map. “It’s close to where the stream empties into Beltzville Lake.”

  I point to a blue pin. “Look at this. Puff lived right here at the lakeshore. She’s the closest pin to the water.”