Zucchini Out West Page 4

  I don’t want a chance to get involved in the sports program, Billy thought. And Zucchini is my friend.

  “Let them go somewhere closer,” Mr. Ferguson continued. “They shouldn’t take two weeks off from school. Not now.”

  Please let us go! thought Zucchini. I have to see the prairie!

  “Why don’t I ask Billy’s teacher about it?” Mrs. Ferguson suggested.

  Mr. Ferguson thought that was a good idea. If Billy’s teacher approved of the plan, he would agree.

  The next day Mrs. Ferguson met with Ms. Crystal. Ms. Crystal said she wanted to think it over. “Could I speak to you?” she asked Billy that afternoon during independent-reading time. He was reading about peregrine falcons. Billy put down his book and approached Ms. Crystal’s desk. “I hear you want to go to Wyoming,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Billy.

  “You would have to keep up with your schoolwork.”

  “I know,” said Billy.

  “I have an idea,” Ms. Crystal continued. She was leaning on her elbow, fingering the delicate handmade silver earring on her left ear. “Your report on black-footed ferrets was excellent.”

  “Thank you,” said Billy.

  “How would you like to expand your report? You could interview the biologists. You could keep a journal. You could include an essay on the situation from your point of view. It would be an independent-study program.”

  Billy’s heart raced with excitement.

  “Who knows?” Ms. Crystal continued. “We might submit it to one of the conservation magazines. Your experiences could interest other children in the subject. What do you think?”

  “It’s a good idea,” said Billy. He wanted to say, “Thank you! I’d love to do the report! Thank you for letting me go!” but once again he couldn’t get the words out.

  The day seemed endless. Billy wanted to rush home and tell Zucchini. He wanted to buy Zucchini a traveling cage. He wanted to call his dad.

  When he got off the bus, the girl who lived next door spoke to him about his report. She was the one who owned the German shepherd, Sonya. Billy knew her from class, but they had never said more than “Hello.” Her name was Margaret. She had straight black hair and was very quiet, almost as quiet as Billy. Sometimes Billy would see her with her dog. Billy had liked her report. It was about a woman who raised sled dogs and won races in Alaska.

  “I liked your report,” Margaret said as they got off the bus.

  “I liked yours, too,” said Billy.

  Margaret stopped at the side of the road. She hugged her books, one arm across the other. “I like dogs,” she said.

  “Me too,” said Billy. He wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t think of what.

  They were quiet for several moments. Then Margaret spoke. “I like wolves, too,” she said.

  “So do I,” said Billy.

  “Good-bye,” said Margaret.

  “Good-bye,” said Billy.

  Inside the house Zucchini waited for Billy. He sat at the front of his cage, listening for the sound of the front door opening and Billy’s footsteps in the hall. One-Day Service hurried on her wheel. “Find the cheese, bite the cheese, chew the cheese,” she repeated as she ran.

  Just then Zuchini heard the door.

  He’s home! he thought.

  Billy dropped his books on the table in the front hall and hurried into the playroom. “We’re going!” he called. “We’re going to the prairie!”

  Zucchini paced excitedly back and forth along the front of his cage as Billy opened the window shade. Bright sunlight flooded the room.

  “We’re going for three weeks!” said Billy. “My teacher said it’s O.K.!”

  Billy moved to Zucchini’s cage. He opened the door, reached in, picked up Zucchini, and held him close. Zucchini rubbed the side of his head on Billy’s shirt, nose first, several times in gratitude.

  “Sonya has drugstore teeth,” said Emma. She came into the playroom wearing her kangaroo suit and eating a large piece of melon. Juice flowed down to her chin.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Billy.

  “She doesn’t have regular teeth like a puppy would have, but only gigantic Dracula teeth with those pointy vampire side ones like a wolf.”

  I don’t like the sound of that! thought Zucchini.

  Emma spit a melon seed into her kangaroo pouch. “Margaret bought them at the drugstore and stuck them in,” she added.

  “They’re real,” said Billy.

  “No way,” said Emma.

  “She’s not full-grown, but she has her permanent teeth,” Billy explained. “It happens to all dogs. For a while their teeth look big.”

  “They’re drugstore teeth,” said Emma. “Margaret must have got them for Halloween, and then she didn’t use them, or she used them, but then she forgot about them ‘cause she put them in a jar, or a drawer, or some kind of box that she didn’t remember.”

  “There is no such thing as drugstore teeth,” said Billy.

  “Think again,” said Emma. The juice from the melon flowed down the front of her kangaroo suit and down her arms to her elbows. She spit another seed into her kangaroo pouch.

  “Don’t do that,” said Billy. “They’ll rot in there and smell.”

  “The baby eats them,” said Emma.

  “There’s no baby,” said Billy, “and there’s no such thing as drugstore teeth.”

  “You can be wrong,” said Emma. “You might be big, but you can be very wrong.”

  Billy let the conversation drop. Emma could be stubborn. Anyway, he wanted to tell her about the trip. “Dad’s taking us to Wyoming,” he said. He stood by the window, holding Zucchini, stroking him gently as he spoke. “We’re taking two weeks off and adding it to our spring vacation, so it can be a long trip. We’ll have three whole weeks with Dad!”

  Emma stopped eating the melon. She looked at Billy, then bent her head down and spit three seeds into her pouch. “Baby kangaroos like seeds,” she said. “That’s why I spit them in.”

  Buck E. Benson

  “Are you excited about the trip?” Mr.

  Ferguson asked at dinnertime.

  “What trip?” said Emma. Since she was mad at her father, she hadn’t admitted they were going.

  “The trip with Daddy,” Mrs. Ferguson explained.

  “Daddy’s not going on a trip.”

  “Not me,” said Mr. Ferguson, “your other daddy.”

  “One daddy is enough,” said Emma.

  “You have two daddies,” said Mrs. Ferguson. “You’re a lucky girl.”

  “Try it,” said Emma.

  “You’ll have a wonderful time,” said her mother. “You’ll see horses and cowgirls and mountains with snow.”

  “Monica had a bad thing happen,” said Emma, pouring extra Spiedies marinade sauce on her chicken leg. “She was running with her bike and holding it and there was this bumpy part in the road and she fell on her tonsils.”

  Mrs. Ferguson finished the last of her rice. “You’ll have a long drive,” she said. “You’ll have to be patient.”

  “Wait a minute!” said Emma. She seemed excited. “Are we going to different states?”

  “Yes,” said Billy.

  “Buck E. Benson’s Burger Room Playshow!”

  “What’s that?” asked Mr. Ferguson.

  “It’s this restaurant that’s also a fun room with games and I’ve been wanting to go there so much, but they only have them in certain states and mostly they don’t have them.”

  “How do you know?” said Billy.

  “Monica told me.”

  “Was this before she fell on her tonsils?”

  “Way before and New York doesn’t have them, but some other states do. Monica went on a long driving trip and she found one. You can tell ‘cause Buck E.’s outside and he’s this giant host that greets you.”

  “What is he?” asked Billy.

  “He’s a groundhog I think, or a hamster, I don’t know, but he greets y
ou and they have this jumping room where balls go around and they have bowling in ridged-hole places and stuffed animals and balloons.”

  “Is Buck E. Benson stuffed?” asked Billy.

  “He’s maybe stuffed with inside machine parts, or he’s a person in a suit like my kangaroo suit, but more puffed out and big.”

  “Sounds great,” said Mr. Ferguson.

  “He is,” said Emma. “And I’ll wear my kangaroo suit every day and when Buck E. sees me he’ll think I’m a kangaroo.”

  That evening before Billy went to bed, he and Zucchini sat on a chair by the window in Billy’s room and looked out at the stars. It was a clear blue-black night. The stars shone brightly, far beyond the branches of the oak tree.

  The same sky is over the prairie, thought Zucchini. I’ll be there soon. And no One-Day Service! I’ll be free! No noisy wheel, no endless talking. Just quiet all around and mountains and sky.

  The weeks before leaving passed quickly. Billy was busy. He collected his schoolwork, got a haircut, and bought a new toothbrush, three rolls of film, a small notebook that would fit in a back pocket of his jeans, a ballpoint pen with a clip, a new pair of sneakers, and a traveling cage for Zucchini. After that he packed his blue duffel bag and he was ready.

  Rubber Chicken

  On the morning they were to leave, Zucchini sat in the window of the playroom and watched the sun come up. As usual, One-Day Service was running on her wheel, her mouse paws treading the metal bars with lightning speed.

  I should say good-bye, Zucchini thought as he watched her run. It’s only right.

  The mouse hurried on, ears pressed flat to her head, eyes staring.

  “I’m leaving,” said Zucchini.

  “No time,” said the mouse.

  “I’m going to the prairie,” said Zucchini. “I’ve wanted to go there for as long as I can remember, and now’s my chance.”

  “Have a good time,” said the mouse.

  Zucchini was stunned. It was the first nice thing she had said to him. “Thank you,” he said.

  Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang, went the wheel.

  Zucchini watched as the mouse continued her feverish run. Now that he was leaving, he suddenly felt sorry for her. She was all alone, trapped in her cage, unable to enjoy life, unable to travel. “Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked.

  “Not really,” said the mouse.

  “Would you like me to bring you something?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Some prairie grass, a desert plant, a stone?”

  “Do they have any cheese?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Zucchini. “At least I never heard of it.”

  “You never heard of cheese?” The mouse seemed shocked. She stared at Zucchini, ears still flat, not missing a step.

  “On the prairie, I mean,” said Zucchini. “I never heard of cheese on the prairie. I’ve heard of it in a general way. You talk about it all the time.”

  “Oh,” said the mouse.

  “Then you don’t want anything?”

  “Not unless you see some cheese.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Zucchini.

  “You too,” said the mouse.

  After breakfast Billy and Zucchini sat looking out the front window, watching for Billy’s father to arrive. Billy’s father had told him he had rented a Pathfinder. It had four-wheel drive, his father had explained. That meant extra safety in the snow. They were likely to run into snow, especially in the Tetons.

  “See how shiny my purse is?” Emma asked. She had come into the hall, wearing her kangaroo suit and carrying a small red patent-leather purse.

  “I’m busy,” said Billy.

  “This purse is gonna shine in the dark I bet,” said Emma. She moved closer to Billy at the window. “Want to see what I have?”

  “Not now,” said Billy. “I’m looking for Dad.”

  Emma opened her purse. “I have these things,” she said.

  “I said I didn’t want to see them.”

  “I have a small brush, tiny white gloves of lace, and my rubber chicken.”

  “You’re not really going to wear that kangaroo suit to Wyoming, are you?” Billy asked.

  “You bet,” said Emma, “and when I see Buck E. Benson, I’ll be ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Search your mind to know.”

  A green-and-tan Pathfinder stopped in front of the house.

  “He’s here!” said Billy.

  That’s it! thought Zucchini. We’re on our way!

  Billy held Zucchini tight and ran to greet his dad, who stood in the driveway holding his black steel-rimmed sunglasses. He wore his usual outfit—jeans, sneakers, a leather jacket, and a baseball cap.

  Billy set Zucchini down on the grass; then he and his dad hugged a long hug. He had missed his dad so much. He felt like he was going to cry.

  “You look great,” his father said. He had his hands on Billy’s shoulders and had backed up a step to look at his son. “You got big.”

  Billy felt embarrassed when his father said that, but he liked it.

  “Hello, Zucchini,” said Billy’s father. He reached out his index finger, letting Zucchini sniff it with his eager nose. He patted Zucchini gently. “What a great guy you are.”

  You look nice too, thought Zucchini.

  And then it happened. Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson came out of the house carrying the luggage, and behind them was Emma. She still wore her kangaroo suit. The shiny red purse hung from her left shoulder. Both arms were wrapped around the orange-plastic case. Inside was One-Day Service.

  On the Road

  “I’m ready,” said Emma as she approached the car.

  Oh, no, thought Zucchini.

  “One-Day Service is staying here,” said Mrs. Ferguson.

  “No she’s not,” said Emma. “She’s a driving mouse.”

  Zucchini looked up at Billy with pleading eyes.

  Don’t let her come! he thought.

  “You can’t bring her,” said Billy. He could sense Zucchini’s concern.

  Emma stopped at the car. She took one hand off the mouse’s cage and reached out for the door.

  “Don’t I get a hug?” asked Mr. Reynolds. That was their father’s last name. It was their last name too.

  Emma held up the cage. “This is my mouse,” she said.

  “Nice mouse,” said her father.

  “Her name is One-Day Service.”

  “Hello, One-Day Service,” said Mr. Reynolds. He bent over and peered through the orange plastic at the shivering mouse. “She looks scared, or something.”

  “She is,” said Emma.

  “She’s not coming,” said Billy.

  Emma’s lower lip began to tremble, the way it did when she was about to cry. “Zucchini’s coming,” she said, “so why can’t my mouse?”

  “It’s different,” said Billy. “Dad and I arranged it.”

  Mr. Reynolds knelt down in front of Emma. “You can bring One-Day Service,” he said. “It’s O.K.”

  Oh, no, thought Zucchini.

  “Maybe it’s not a good idea,” said Mrs. Ferguson.

  “It’s not!” said Billy.

  “How come?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  “It’s too complicated,” said Mrs. Ferguson. “You’re bringing one animal already.”

  “It’s fine,” said Mr. Reynolds. He turned to Emma. “Put her in the car.”

  Emma turned to Mr. Ferguson. He was loading Billy’s duffel bag into the rear storage compartment. “I can’t open the door,” she said.

  “I’ll do it,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “I want Daddy to do it,” said Emma. She was looking at her stepfather.

  “He’s your daddy too, sweetheart,” said Mr. Ferguson. “He’s right by the door.”

  “So what?” said Emma.

  Mr. Reynolds opened the door. “So there you go,” he said.

  Billy didn’t like it when his father and stepfather were
together. Things seemed tense. And Emma always made it worse.

  Zucchini’s heart sank as Emma reached into the back of the Pathfinder and slid the mouse’s cage onto the seat.

  “Now where’s my hug?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  Emma paid no attention to her father. She climbed up into the car and shut the door.

  “She’s still mad at you for leaving,” said Mrs. Ferguson.

  “Looks that way,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  Mr. Ferguson finished loading the car, shut the rear hatch door, and came around to join the others. After they hugged good-bye, Billy bent down and picked up Zucchini. They were on their way.

  Heading west toward Route 17 Zucchini felt numb. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He had planned it for weeks. Freedom at last! No chatter, no wheel, no endless noise. Now One-Day Service was coming! How could he stand it? He curled up on Billy’s lap and tried to sleep.

  “You’re quiet back there,” Mr. Reynolds said to Emma. They were pulling past a large truck. SHOES FOR LESS it said in large red letters across the side. “Everything O.K.?”

  “If you think so,” said Emma.

  “I think so,” said Mr. Reynolds. “How’s your mouse?”

  “Hunched,” said Emma.

  “She’s nervous,” said Billy. “She doesn’t like the car.”

  “Neither do I,” said Emma.

  “Why not?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  “It’s a stupid trip.”

  On the outskirts of Binghamton they found a Pizza Pit. Billy took off Zucchini’s leash and halter and put him into his traveling cage. Billy had set up a surprise. He had cut off the arm of an old sweatshirt and had placed it in the cage.

  Nice sleeve, thought Zucchini.

  He crawled inside the soft cotton tunnel and fell asleep.

  Pizza Pit

  The Pizza Pit was crowded. Just inside the door was a group of people gathered behind a black sign with white letters. THE HOSTESS WILL SEAT YO, said the sign. The U had disappeared.

  “What time is it when the elephant sits on the fence?” Emma asked the teenage girl ahead of her in line.

  “I don’t know,” said the girl. She wore a pink sweatshirt, had three small earrings in each ear, and appeared in need of sleep.