Zucchini Out West Read online

  “Maybe they made a mistake.”

  “Ask them.”

  Zucchini was pacing faster now. He began scratching at the bottom of the cage. “What’s wrong?” Billy asked. He moved to the cage, opened the door, and took Zucchini out. The tiny ferret struggled to get free.

  “What is it?” Billy asked. He set Zucchini down on the carpet. “What’s wrong?”

  Zucchini ran to the door and Billy followed.

  Mr. Reynolds stretched out on one of the beds. He tried the lamp on the bedside table. “They fixed it,” he said.

  “Can I use the mouth string?” Emma called from the bathroom.

  “The what?” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “Dental floss,” said Billy. He was kneeling by Zucchini at the door.

  “O.K., but hurry,” said Mr. Reynolds. He leaned up against the pillows, his eyes resting on the empty mouse’s cage. “Where’s your mouse?”

  “I can’t hear you,” Emma called.

  “Where’s your mouse?”

  Zucchini was pacing rapidly, sniffing at the crack beneath the door.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Billy. “Is something out there? Why are you so scared?”

  Ice Machine

  Emma came out of the bathroom carrying her tiny toothbrush with the pig’s face on the handle. “I couldn’t hear you,” she said. “My mouth was full.”

  “Where’s your mouse?” her father asked.

  “She’s in the drawer,” said Emma. “She wanted to be cozy.”

  She’s not cozy now, thought Zucchini.

  He was scratching at the crack beneath the door.

  Emma began rummaging through the clothes drawer. “Where is she?” she asked.

  Zucchini was scratching furiously, his sharp nails making tiny streaks on the inside of the door.

  “What is it?” asked Billy. “What’s wrong?”

  Mr. Reynolds joined Emma at the drawer. “She must be under all this stuff,” he said, peering into the jumble of clothes. “This is not a good place for her.”

  “She’s not here!” said Emma. She began pulling clothes out of the drawer, throwing them on the floor.

  “Be careful,” said Mr. Reynolds. “You’ll never find her that way.”

  “One-Day Service!” said Emma. “My mouse!”

  Zucchini stopped scratching and stared up at Billy, pleading with his eyes for him to open the door.

  In an instant Billy knew. “She’s in the hall.”

  “How do you know?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  “Zucchini knows.”

  “My mouse!” said Emma. She ran to the door.

  “Wait!” said Billy.

  Emma knew when Billy was serious. She stood still as he ran to his duffel bag and pulled out Zucchini’s leash and halter.

  Hurry! thought Zucchini. Every second counts with a mouse.

  “Maybe she’s still in the drawer,” said Mr. Reynolds, searching through Emma’s socks.

  “She’s not,” said Billy.

  “My mouse!” cried Emma.

  Billy returned to Zucchini, putting on the halter and attaching the leash. When he opened the door, Emma ran into the hall and down toward the elevators. “One-Day Service!” she called. “Where are you?”

  Zucchini lifted his head high.

  “Can you find her?” Billy asked.

  Zucchini’s nose twitched as he quickly picked up the scent of the mouse. In moments Emma ran back from the elevators. “She’s nowhere!” Emma called.

  “Quiet,” said Billy. He held the end of the leash as Zucchini pulled ahead, zigzagging across the carpet, following the scent.

  “Maybe she’s outside!” cried Emma. “Maybe she’s dead!”

  “Quiet,” said Billy.

  “Look!” said Mr. Reynolds. “Zucchini has the scent!”

  Emma and Mr. Reynolds watched as Zucchini led Billy down the hall past the elevators to the ice machine. It had a loud motor and stood in an alcove next to two other machines, one for drinks and one for snacks. Zucchini stuck his nose beneath the noisy ice maker.

  She’s under here, he thought. I can smell her.

  Billy took off Zucchini’s halter. “Be careful,” he said.

  The opening beneath the ice machine was narrow. Zucchini stuck his nose into the dark space. Stretching himself to his longest and thinnest shape, he began pulling himself forward.

  Don’t let him get stuck in there, thought Billy. Please!

  Zucchini inched his way forward in the dark. All at once he stopped.

  What am I doing? he thought. Rescuing a mouse I can’t stand so she can torment me for the rest of my life? I must be crazy!

  He could hear the sound of One-Day Service squeaking in fear.

  “I’m coming,” he said.

  It was too dark to see, but Zucchini could sense the body heat of the mouse. He could feel her fear. All at once his nose touched her body. He turned his head to the side, gently gripping her tail between his teeth. Then he began to back up, easing himself along the floor through the narrow space beneath the groaning machine.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought. Most ferrets would have eaten this mouse by now.

  Slowly he moved back, inch by inch, dragging the terrified mouse. Pretty soon Billy could see Zucchini’s tail, and then his rear quarters, backing out from under the ice maker.

  “Does he have my mouse?” asked Emma. She was on her hands and knees, her forehead pressed against the bottom of the machine.

  Just then all of Zucchini appeared. There was One-Day Service, dirty and shivering, her hairless mouse tail trapped between Zucchini’s teeth.

  Letter

  Emma wanted to give One-Day Service a bath. Mr. Reynolds said it wasn’t a good time for washing mice, and Emma got upset. She said she didn’t want to wash mice, she wanted to wash one mouse who belonged to her and was dirty. When her father still said no, she cried and said she wanted to go back to her real daddy and that Mr. Reynolds had a head like a kidney bean. Mr. Reynolds held her and said he was sorry she missed her other daddy, but that he loved her and that they would have fun on their trip. He let her wear her kangaroo suit to bed.

  Zucchini watched from his cage by the window. He was exhausted from the excitement of the night. One-Day Service had thanked him several times on the way back from the ice machine. “I was happy to do it,” Zucchini told her, but later when the mouse started up on her wheel, Zucchini had second thoughts.

  What did I do? he thought. I should have let her go. She probably would have been fine.

  Billy pulled the covers up over his head. He was trying to drown out the sound of wheel, but more than that he was trying to block out his fear.

  If Zucchini is a black-footed ferret and I keep him, I’ll be breaking the law, Billy thought. I can’t do that. I’ll have to show him to the biologists. What if they take him away?

  Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang.

  Mr. Reynolds couldn’t sleep either and finally removed the wheel from the cage.

  The next morning Billy decided to write Miss Pickett a letter. He sat on the floor of the bathroom, Zucchini at his side, organizing his thoughts on a sheet of paper he had taken from his notebook.

  Zucchini could sense Billy’s worry. He licked Billy’s arm from his wrist to his elbow, washing it with his rough tongue. He liked to show his love this way. He also liked the salty taste of Billy’s skin. Crawling into Billy’s lap, he turned his head upside down and nudged Billy’s arm with his nose.

  With his left hand Billy scratched Zucchini’s triangle-shaped chin. He started to write, but after two words he stopped.

  Miss Pickett won’t remember me, he thought. She’s busy. She doesn’t have time to write to kids, especially kids she doesn’t remember.

  He looked down at Zucchini.

  I have to write! he thought. I have to know if I can keep you!

  This is what he wrote:

  Dear Miss Pickett,

  My name is Billy. When I
was at the ASPCA you gave me Zucchini. One day you said he was a black-footed ferret. I was wondering something. How can I keep him if he’s endangered? Please answer quickly.

  Billy

  Billy wrote the letter neatly on a fresh sheet of paper. Then he put his address at the bottom. He decided to call his mother and ask her to watch for Miss Pickett’s answer in the mail. He would call his mother before meeting the biologists to see if the answer had come. If Miss Pickett said Zucchini was not a black-footed ferret, that would solve everything. She was an expert. She would know. If she said he was a black-footed ferret, or if he didn’t get an answer at all, he would have to figure out what to do. He would have to get an envelope from the lady at the front desk. He didn’t want to ask her, but he had no choice.

  I have to send this, he told himself. I want to help animals and save the earth. At least I can ask for an envelope!

  Mr. Dunderbaks

  They reached the outskirts of Toledo in time for lunch. Zucchini and One-Day Service stayed in their cages on the backseat of the Pathfinder while the others went into the restaurant to eat.

  Zucchini looked up at the sign above the door.

  MR. DUNDERBAKS RESTAURANT SAUSAGE

  What is restaurant sausage? Zucchini wondered. I thought sausage was sausage no matter where you found it. Maybe Billy will bring me some. It sounds good, whatever it is.

  One-Day Service was on her wheel. She was still dusty from her time under the ice machine. Zucchini curled up on his sweatshirt sleeve and watched her run. He remembered the night before.

  I should have left her alone, he thought. She wanted to go somewhere. She probably would have been fine.

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

  I could have had quiet at last, Zucchini thought. Now it’s too late.

  Billy and Mr. Reynolds were looking at their menus.

  “I’m having french fries,” said Emma. Steggie was on the table next to her water glass.

  Two elderly ladies approached the table. One stopped behind Emma’s chair. She was short, and bent over toward Emma, whispering in her ear. “Are you a kangaroo?” she asked.

  “Yup,” said Emma.

  “My, my,” said the woman. She looked at Steggie. “Isn’t he a nice dinosaur?”

  “He’s a girl,” said Emma.

  “A girl dinosaur,” said the woman. “My, my.”

  “Don’t be surprised,” said Emma. “Everything has girls.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said the woman. “Aren’t you a smart one. And is your dinosaur having lunch?”

  “She can’t open her mouth,” said Emma.

  The women moved off to find their table.

  That afternoon Emma took a nap in the car. Before going to sleep, she made Billy promise on everything he cared about in this lifetime to wake her if he saw Buck E. Benson. Billy said he would.

  Zucchini curled up on Billy’s lap.

  Soon we’ll be on the prairie! he thought. Then I’ll be free! No cage, no mouse, no wheel! Just the wind and the air and the sunshine and the prairie stretching out in all directions.

  Billy was doing his homework. He was trying not to worry about losing Zucchini, but it was hard. He rested his notebook gently on top of Zucchini and tried to concentrate.

  “When are you going to call the conservation people?” Mr. Reynolds asked. He wore his baseball hat and sunglasses and was eating a candy bar.

  “I don’t know,” said Billy.

  “You better call them soon.” Billy’s father often pushed Billy to get past his shyness. He didn’t like to see Billy afraid of things. He knew that didn’t make Billy happy.

  Billy looked down at the math problem he was doing. He didn’t say anything.

  “Are you going to call them?” his father asked.

  “Maybe,” said Billy. Now he had another reason for not wanting to call. It wasn’t just his shyness. Once the doctors and biologists saw Zucchini, they might say Billy couldn’t keep him.

  “You’d better call,” said Mr. Reynolds. “We don’t want to miss them.”

  Billy wasn’t so sure.

  At the Rockford Motor Inn, in Rockford, Illinois, Emma discovered her first loose tooth.

  “Congratulations,” said Mr. Reynolds. He had his finger on the tooth, testing it for looseness.

  “It gives me the beejies,” said Emma.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Mr. Reynolds. “It’ll fall out soon.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “No,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “How do you know?”

  “Ask Billy.”

  “He’s not here.”

  Billy was out walking Zucchini in a grassy area at the side of the motel.

  “Ask him when he comes back,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “When will he come back?”

  “Soon,” said Mr. Reynolds. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for you.”

  “You don’t help my beejies.”

  “What are beejies?” Mr. Reynolds stretched out on one of the narrow beds.

  “Creeps,” said Emma. “You know, those heejie-beejies.”

  “Oh yes,” her father said. “I get those sometimes.”

  “You do?” Emma sat down on the edge of the bed. For the first time since they had left, she looked directly into her father’s eyes. “They’re scary, aren’t they?”

  “They are.”

  “I don’t like them.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “When do you get the beejies?” Emma asked.

  “Different times,” her father answered.

  “Like when?”

  “Like when I have to go into a dark basement, or before a storm when it’s quiet and there’s no wind.”

  “Me too,” said Emma. “When else?”

  “When I’m nervous about something and I don’t know what it is.”

  “The same with me. Do you call it the heejie-beejies?”

  “I call it the heebie-jeebies, but it’s the same thing.”

  “I know,” said Emma. She stretched out on the bed next to her father, and they lay quiet for a while.

  Twenty Questions

  The next two days were a blur of life on the road. Zucchini found a wonderful place to rest. He stretched out on top of Billy’s shoulders like a collar around Billy’s neck. His rear legs hung down by Billy’s left ear. His nose pointed toward the window. The back of the seat wedged him snugly between its leather firmness and the warmth of Billy’s neck. The noise of the engine blocked out the noise of One-Day Service’s wheel, as well as her endless chatter. Although Zucchini welcomed the quiet, it seemed sad to him that the mouse talked on while no one listened.

  Emma kept looking for Buck E. Benson. Still wearing her kangaroo suit (she had taken it off only once, when she took a bath in Rockford), she sat next to her mouse’s cage in the backseat, Steggie on her lap, her forehead pressed against the window. “He must be somewhere,” she would say every once in a while, but Buck E. was not to be seen.

  Gerry Mulligan played on the tape deck as they left Illinois and crossed through southern Wisconsin. The road was straight and flat.

  Mr. Reynolds enjoyed driving. He kept his eyes on the road while Billy did his homework, or they talked or played Twenty Questions with Emma. “I have one,” Emma would announce, looking for Buck E. Benson as she spoke. “It’s part of an animal.”

  “That’s too much of a clue,” Billy would say. “Just say animal.”

  “Animal.”

  “Is it in this car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it small?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it in the front seat?”

  “No.”

  “Is it in the backseat?”

  “It’s on something that’s in something that’s on the backseat.”

  “That’s too much of a clue.”

  Finally, Billy or Mr. Reynolds would say, “Is it one of One-Day Service’s toenails?” and Emma would say, �
�Which one?” At last they would guess it.

  Emma enjoyed other games, like Count the Red Cars, a game she made up, and I Packed My Grandmother’s Bag, but Twenty Questions was her favorite. She also did a lot of singing. She especially liked long songs like “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” or songs like “Around the Corner and Under the Tree” that didn’t have an end.

  At one point, after entering Minnesota, they passed a factory. Billy watched the dark smoke rising into the air.

  Someday I’ll do something to help clean up the environment, he thought. I have to figure it out.

  “Look at that,” Mr. Reynolds complained. “There’s pollution everywhere.”

  “Is garbage pollution?” asked Emma. She was eating popcorn from a cardboard tub.

  “Sometimes,” said Billy.

  “I know how to stop it,” said Emma. “I thought of it in my mind.”

  “How’s that?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  “Pigs.”

  “What about them?” asked Billy.

  “Well, if everybody in the world had a pig, let’s say it could be a potbellied pig because they get fat and hungry, then all the pigs could eat the garbage and if maybe someone didn’t have any money so they couldn’t buy a pig, there could be a pig place where everybody who didn’t have a pig could go and bring their garbage and there would be hungry pigs all in a circle who would eat it.”

  “Why would they be in a circle?” asked Billy.

  “It’s to my way.”

  “It wouldn’t work,” said Billy. “A lot of garbage is poison, like nuclear waste, and pigs couldn’t eat that.”

  “Well, for that there’s a special ray that could destroy it, but the science people didn’t think of it yet. You shoot the bad garbage with this special zapping gun that would be like a laser, but it wouldn’t cut. It would only smash up the particles and suck them into nothingness.”

  “Sounds good,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “It is,” said Emma, “but your average person could just get a pig.”

  Prairie

  They left the Quiet Night Motel in Blue Earth, Minnesota, at dawn. Mr. Reynolds said he wanted to push it.

  “Push what?” Emma asked. She sat on the edge of her cot half-awake, her furry kangaroo legs dangling off the side.