Zucchini Out West Read online

  “Time to get a new elephant,” said Emma.

  “Really,” said the girl. It was hard to tell what she meant by that.

  The boy next to her was climbing on the metal stand of the THE HOSTESS WILL SEAT YO sign. He stared at Billy. Billy looked down at the floor.

  “What happened to your tooth?” asked the boy. His jacket was too large for him, his shoes untied.

  “I fell,” said Billy.

  “What did you fall on?”

  “Stone steps,” said Billy.

  “My steps are wood,” said the boy. He went back to climbing.

  “I’ll be right with you,” said the hostess as she gathered a stack of menus. She was thin, with red hair stiff with spray and held up with a plastic clip. “How many in your party?” she asked.

  “Three,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “Two,” said Emma. “Two people, one kangaroo.”

  “Right this way,” said the hostess, without bothering to listen. They followed her down the three steps into the pit area and over to a table by the windows. “Here you go,” she said with forced cheerfulness. She looked down at Emma. “Well, hi there. Could you be a bear?”

  “See my pouch and think again.”

  The hostess didn’t have time for that. “Well, well,” she said. “Laurie will be by to serve you.”

  “I’m a kangaroo,” said Emma.

  The hostess set down the menus. “Cutest thing you ever did see,” she said.

  The pizza was delicious. Billy was happy, sitting next to his dad, eating his favorite food and starting the trip he had looked forward to for so long.

  A short man wearing a red-and-white shirt that said GET IT AT THE PIT passed the table. He carried a tray piled high with paper plates, plastic glasses, half-finished drinks, and half-eaten pizza. He dumped the contents of the tray into a nearby garbage can.

  He should recycle the plastic, Billy thought. Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe I should tell him.

  I’m useless, he thought. How can I help the earth if I can’t even tell people what I think?

  Emma took a sip of her drink through the red-and-white-striped straw brought by Laurie. She stopped suddenly, squeezed her mouth tight, and shut her eyes. In a moment she went back to drinking.

  “What was that?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  “Lemonade gives me the sparkles,” said Emma.

  “Me too,” said her father. He paused a moment, just watching her drink. “I sure miss you guys,” he said.

  Emma stared at her pizza. “I wish Mom and Dad were here,” she said.

  “Dad’s here,” said Billy.

  Emma didn’t answer.

  Mr. Reynolds pushed aside his plate, took two folded sheets of paper out of his jacket pocket, and spread them out on the table. “Look at this,” he said. “Look what they can do. I ran two destinations through the computer. Our trip is all set up. They give you the shortest routes.”

  He said there were two basic ways of going, depending on what Billy wanted to do first. Billy said he would like to visit three places: Meeteetse, where the black-footed ferrets had been found; Jackson Hole, where Tom Campbell, a biologist who had worked with Tim Clark, had his research company; and Laramie, where a doctor named Tom Thorne ran the captive-breeding center. He didn’t care which came first.

  “Did you call the conservation people?” asked Billy’s father.

  “Not yet,” said Billy.

  “What if they’re not there?”

  Billy didn’t answer. The thought of calling famous doctors and biologists and asking to meet with them was too much to think about.

  “You should call them,” said his father.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” said Billy.

  They decided to take the northern route. They would head for Cody, which was near Meeteetse, then go through Yellowstone Park to Grand Teton National Park and into Jackson Hole. From there they would head east, ending up at the captive-breeding facility near Laramie. Billy could hardly wait.

  “How many states do we go through?” asked Emma. She was unwrapping saltine crackers from their cellophane wrap, putting them into her pouch.

  Mr. Reynolds consulted his papers. “Nine, counting New York,” he answered.

  “Don’t bother with New York,” said Emma. “He’s not here.”

  “Who’s not?” asked her father.

  “Buck E. Benson,” said Billy.

  Laurie approached with the check. She was about seventeen years old, with brown curly hair and bright blue eyes, set wide in a cheerful face.

  “Have you heard of Buck E. Benson around here?” asked Emma.

  “I sure haven’t,” Laurie answered. “Does he play football?”

  “He might,” said Emma. “He does a lot of things.”

  Quality Rest Motel

  Billy and Emma and Mr. Reynolds were just readying to leave the Pizza Pit when Zucchini woke up. One-Day Service was running hard. Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang, went the wheel as she sped on her way.

  There she goes again, thought Zucchini.

  He crawled out from inside Billy’s sweatshirt sleeve and stared across the parking lot at the bright red-and-white sign. THE PIZZA PIT it said in bold letters, and below that, WINGS AFTER 8:00 P.M.

  Wings of what? he thought. Where am I?

  All at once he remembered. He was on his way to the prairie, and One-Day Service was coming too! There would be no peace.

  “Have to hurry. No time. Lots of cheese,” repeated the mouse as she ran.

  “You have to stop that,” said Zucchini. “It’s too small in here.”

  “Where are we?” asked the mouse, not missing a step.

  “We’re on our way to the prairie,” said Zucchini.

  “Oh,” said the mouse.

  “You don’t sound very happy,” said Zucchini. “Don’t you want to go?”

  “Not really,” said the mouse.

  Heading west on Route 17, Zucchini sat up tall on Billy’s lap. The noise of the engine drowned out the sound of the wheel. Zucchini found the motion of the tires on the road to be restful.

  This is nice, he thought.

  Mr. Reynolds had bought Zucchini a piece of red licorice. Billy held the candy while Zucchini ate. Zucchini chewed with pleasure as he watched the sights speeding past. A group of Canada geese had gathered on a sloping lawn. Over a hundred geese stood motionless, each facing north, each looking into the sky as if picturing a journey to come.

  Zucchini finished the licorice, then curled up on Billy’s lap, his head upside down, his body folded like a pretzel. It was time for a nap.

  Mr. Reynolds turned on the tape player. Gerry Mulligan played gentle jazz on his baritone sax. Billy’s father loved jazz. “O.K. with you guys?” he asked.

  “Sure,” said Billy.

  “I have children’s tapes if anyone wants to hear them,” said Emma.

  “We don’t,” said Billy.

  “After this one,” said Mr. Reynolds. “Then it’s your turn.” He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulled out the paper describing their route, and handed it to Billy. “There you go,” he said. Billy was always the navigator when he drove with his dad. He liked the job.

  Mr. Reynolds looked at Emma in the rearview mirror. “How are you doing back there?” he asked. “Are you getting a little bit used to me?”

  “Not so much,” said Emma.

  “Let me know how it goes.”

  “I will,” said Emma. “How many states do we see today?”

  “Three if we’re lucky,” answered her father. “We’ll be out of New York in four hours.”

  “You don’t count New York.”

  “I forgot,” said Mr. Reynolds. “They don’t have Buffy Swenson.”

  “Buck E. Benson!”

  “Right. They don’t have Buck E. Benson. So that’s four hours we don’t count.”

  “You can count the hours.”

  “O.K.”

  “Just don’t say the name.”
r />   “O.K. So that’s four hours in the state we don’t say the name of, one hour in Pennsylvania, and we’ll spend the night in Ohio. We see two states.”

  “Not counting the one we don’t say the name of.”

  “Right.”

  The Quality Rest Motel in Ashtabula, Ohio, allowed pets. “Pets are permitted in the rooms,” explained the young woman behind the front desk. She was thin, with dark hair and glasses and a pale face. Her pink blush was strongly applied.

  “Have you seen Buck E. Benson around here?” Emma asked the woman.

  “Who?” The woman bent forward over the counter. “My, my,” she said. “Are you a kangaroo?”

  “Yup,” said Emma. “Have you seen him?”

  “Who’s that?” the woman asked.

  “Buck E. Benson,” said Emma. “He’s a hamster, or maybe a groundhog, who’s stuffed I think, and gigantic and he has a restaurant that’s a fun house and he’s the host.”

  “Ah … no,” said the woman. She seemed confused.

  “He’s not in Pennsylvania,” said Emma. “We checked.”

  “Pinball machines,” said Mr. Reynolds. He pointed to the alcove next to the coffee shop. He and Billy loved to play pinball together. Once on a movie location in Alabama they had played for two hours straight. Billy was happy to be with his dad.

  Lost

  The lightbulb in the lamp on the table between the beds was burned out. Zucchini sat on Billy’s lap in the chair by the window, while Mr. Reynolds called the front desk. “We need a new lightbulb,” Mr. Reynolds told the woman who answered.

  The mouse was in her cage on the cabinet by the television set, running furiously. Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang, went the wheel.

  No one sleeps tonight, Zucchini thought.

  Emma was watching TV. She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing her kangaroo suit, holding her stegosaurus, and eating potato chips from a small bag with an owl on it. Although Billy had explained they would only be staying one night, she had unpacked all her things. The top drawer of the bureau was open, socks, underwear, and T-shirts all in a jumble.

  “Let’s see if they’ve got a Chinese restaurant in town,” said Mr. Reynolds when he hung up the phone. He loved food that came from different countries.

  Emma popped a potato chip into her mouth and chewed loudly. She stared at the announcer, who spoke into the camera. “Have the nose you’ve always dreamed of,” the woman was saying.

  “Let’s go,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  Emma turned off the TV.

  Billy put Zucchini into his cage. He set the cage on the table by the window. Then he opened the curtains so Zucchini could look out. “We’ll be back soon,” he said.

  That’s good, Zucchini thought.

  When they reached the elevators, Emma wanted to go back to the room. “I forgot Steggie,” she said.

  “Who?” her father asked.

  “Her stegosaurus,” said Billy.

  “Don’t worry,” said Emma. “She’s stuffed.”

  “Why do kids like stuffed animals so much?” Mr. Reynolds asked.

  “If they weren’t stuffed, they’d be flat,” said Emma.

  “That’s true,” said her father. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the key.

  “I better do it,” said Billy.

  “I can manage,” said Emma.

  “You don’t know where it is.”

  “It’s the last door by the twisted hallway.”

  “There is no twisted hallway.”

  “It bends,” said Emma.

  “It turns,” said Billy.

  Mr. Reynolds handed Emma the key.

  Zucchini sat in his cage and looked out the window as dusk settled over the parking lot. A large sign lit up the entrance.

  WELCOME HARDWARE STORE EMPLOYEES

  OF EAST TRUMBELL

  said the sign.

  Just then Emma opened the door. She moved to the mouse’s cage. “Hello, One-Day Service,” she said. “You’re verrry white.” She opened the orange-plastic cage, reached in, and took the shivering mouse off the wheel. “I love your toes,” she said. She held the mouse for a moment, then looked down at the open clothes drawer. “I’m going to put you in this drawer,” she said. She dropped the terrified mouse into the drawer on top of a tumble of colored socks.

  She won’t like that, thought Zucchini.

  “Have a nice rest,” Emma told the mouse. She moved to the bed, picked up her stegosaurus, and left, slamming the door behind her.

  Zucchini looked about the room. It was brown. Brown carpet, brown curtains, brown bedspreads, brown walls. There was a picture of fruit above each of the beds and an ice bucket on the corner table. Standing paper signs announced bargains at the coffee shop and entertainment in the lounge. One-Day Service was shivering in Emma’s clothes drawer.

  She’s really scared, Zucchini thought.

  He stood up and peered through the narrow bars of his cage. “Are you all right in there?” he asked.

  The mouse didn’t answer. She continued to crouch on the sock pile, her body shaking, her ears flat, her eyes wide.

  “Are you all right?” Zucchini repeated, louder this time.

  “Where am I?” asked the mouse.

  “You’re in the clothes drawer.”

  “It’s too big.”

  “It’s not that big,” said Zucchini. “It seems big to you because you’re so small.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  What’s that? thought Zucchini.

  “Don’t hurt me!” said the mouse.

  The door opened and a man came in. He breathed heavily and carried a lightbulb. “Maintenance,” he said as he switched on the ceiling light. Leaving the door open, he moved into the room.

  Zucchini’s heart pounded in his chest.

  What does he want? he thought. Billy didn’t say anything about a man coming in.

  The man made a kind of sighing noise, as if life was too much for him, or his shift was too long. He looked about the room. “Which lamp?” he said to himself.

  One-Day Service was shaking in the drawer. “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” she said. She began darting in all directions, under the socks, over the undershirts, around the pajamas. “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.”

  The man moved toward the lamp on the cabinet.

  “Get away!” said the mouse.

  “Maybe this one,” said the man. He reached for the lamp. Then he saw Zucchini. “What’s that?” he asked. Zucchini stared at him with frightened eyes. “Must be some kind of weasel,” said the man. “They’ll bring anything.” He switched on the lamp, his large stomach bumping into the open drawer.

  “Oh, no!” said One-day Service. With a flying leap she charged up the mound of colored socks and out over the top of the drawer. Landing with a tiny thud on the brown carpet, she huddled in the corner by the closet, her mind locked in terror.

  “Don’t kill me! Don’t crush me!” she called. Then she began to run.

  “Calm yourself,” said Zucchini.

  One-Day Service was shaking as she ran.

  “Where are you going?” called Zucchini.

  There was no answer. Eyes bulging, ears flat to her head, One-Day Service darted around the cabinet, into the closet, out of the closet, under the table, behind the curtains, under the beds, into the bathroom, out of the bathroom, around the luggage, out the door, and down the hall.

  Mouth String

  “You didn’t eat much,” Mr. Reynolds said to Emma as they finished the lemon chicken.

  “It sours my joints,” said Emma.

  During dessert Billy talked about black-footed ferrets and how they were among the rarest mammals on earth. “They’re endangered,” he explained. “Zucchini looks like one, but he’s probably not.”

  “He’d better not be,” said his father.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You couldn’t keep him.”

  “I know,” said Billy.

 
“You sure he’s not?”

  “Pretty sure,” said Billy. “The lady at the ASPCA gave him to me. She wouldn’t do that if he was endangered.”

  “People do weird things.” Mr. Reynolds cracked open his fortune cookie. “It’s a good idea to find out before you go around breaking the law.”

  Billy’s stomach sank like an elevator plunging down inside a skyscraper.

  Don’t let him be a black-footed ferret! he thought. I should have asked! How could I have been so stupid?

  Zucchini paced back and forth inside his tiny cage. He felt trapped. The man had left, shutting the door, and One-Day Service was gone, running terrified somewhere in the building. Or somewhere out of the building. That would be worse!

  She’s lost, Zucchini thought. Frightened and lost. And I can’t get out to find her!

  Suddenly he stopped.

  Wait a minute, he thought. Why am I upset? I can’t stand her. Why do I want to bring her back?

  He didn’t know why, but the feeling was strong.

  Someone’s got to find her, he thought. She could get caught somewhere, or crushed, or stepped on. She could get out of the building and get hit by a car! I don’t like her, but I don’t want her to get hurt. If Billy were here, he could let me out. Maybe I could find her.

  He paced back and forth inside his tiny cage, awaiting Billy’s return.

  Mr. Reynolds was the first to come in. “Bedtime, Emma,” he said. “We’re getting up early.”

  “Kangaroos are always early,” said Emma. She barged past her father and into the bathroom.

  Billy was still upset. The idea of losing Zucchini was too much to bear. He followed his father into the room. Zucchini was pacing faster now in an attempt to get Billy to notice that something was wrong. Billy would usually have understood in an instant, but he was too worried now.

  Mr. Reynolds put his arm around his son. “I doubt he’s a black-footed ferret,” he said. “I just think you should check it out.”

  “What if he is?” asked Billy.

  I don’t care what I am, thought Zucchini. Let me out!

  “He was given to you by the ASPCA,” said Mr. Reynolds. “They specialize in animal welfare. They thought he should be with you.”