How to Outfox Your Friends When You Don't Have a Clue (9 page)

I nodded, but already the thought of having Liv and Ashley in the same room together was making my stomach twist up like a pretzel.
That
was definitely something I'd have to figure out later, without Mom staring at me.

“If Ana gets to have Liv over, can Kevin stay too?” Daz piped in. “It's only fair!”

I gulped. If there was one thing that I
wasn't
ready for about being thirteen was the possibility of having Kevin stay over at our place during sleepovers with Daz. Sure, he'd stayed here a zillion times before, but that was
before
all the hand-holding and stuff. What if he saw me in my nightshirt or something? Or worse, walking around in one of those green face masks that Ashley was always hounding me to try?

The potential for embarrassment was way too high.

“How about you stay over at his place?” Mom said, eyeing me. I shifted uncomfortably.

I could tell by the look on his face that Daz had no idea what awkward thoughts were going through my head. But judging by the hard determination in Mom's eyes, she had completely read my mind.

Talk about terrifying.

“Deal,” Daz said.

“Excellent!” Mom announced, pulling her ponytail tighter. “I'll let your father know we'll be setting it up at the zoo, and what you guys can do to help us out is make a list of everyone you want invited, all right? I'll also make sure Dad and Sugar know. I'm sure they'll want to join us.” She pulled out the notepad in her jeans pocket and scribbled a message. “I can't believe my babies are thirteen,” she added wistfully.

I stepped back, causing Darwin to hop over to Mom's shoulder in protest. “Hey! I'm not thirteen yet. I've got a few more days,” I pointed out. I could practically hear the ticking clock in my head, counting down the last hours of my twelve-year-old self.

“Enjoy them,” Mom said, her eyes crinkling. “And by the way! I called Kate at the Safe Haven Wildlife Center, and you're on for your first volunteer session tomorrow! Dad can drop you off, but make sure you bring the immunization card I left on your bed, okay? And you should also bring a change of coveralls, so you don't drag home God knows what afterward, okay?”

I gasped. “I totally forgot about the wildlife center!” I shrieked, turning to dash up the stairs. “I need to find something to wear!”

Three Things That Suck about Sharing a Birthday with a Boy (Specifically, Your Brother)

1. No matter what you do, he will always try to blow out all the candles.
Even
if you have two cakes, and only one of them is for him. That means gross boy spit all over your icing.

2. For the rest of your life, you will have to endure extra-loud-in-your-ear singing when everyone sings “Happy Birthday” to you because he knows you hate that song.

3. You'll have to hear endlessly about how you're an “old geezer,” simply because you happen to be born
four minutes
before him.

A bison's hump is made of muscle, which allows it to push its way through snow with its head like a snowplow.

—Animal Wisdom

I'm fine.

I'm fine. I am calm, cool, collected, and supersmart. I'm almost thirteen years old, and I can handle whatever happens today.

The minute Dad dropped me off at the Safe Haven Wildlife Center, I couldn't wait to get started. I could help rescue wolves! And release bald eagles! And ride moose!

Okay, so I definitely knew that riding moose was out of the question, but that didn't stop me from imagining myself on the summit of some mountain with an eagle on my shoulder. Maybe I should have worn a Katniss braid?

I tugged my ponytail tighter and stuffed my gloves into my pocket before glancing up at the door to the main clinic. Mom told me that the center was designed with the animals in mind, with several buildings and cages in groups that were well away from human activity. Unlike the zoo, human eyes were the
last
thing these animals needed, because the more people they interacted with, the more likely they would approach them in the wild. That would be bad news.

The biggest building—the clinic with two huge windows at the front—was where I was told to check in.

“Deep breath,” I told myself, turning the knob and stepping through. “Hello?” The reception area was small and empty, so I took another few steps into what looked to be where they checked animals after people dropped them off.

The walls were buttery yellow, and cages, tanks, and aquariums lined every surface. Brightly colored posters of native wildlife lined the walls, along with anatomy posters of several animals, like turtles, birds, and foxes. Cabinets, drawers, and shelves were well labeled, with tiny tags marking their contents, like gauze, syringes, and bandages. A fridge hummed in the corner of the room with a magnet that read “It's Raining Cats and Dogs! I Hope It Doesn't Reindeer!”

I giggled. Clearly these were my people.

I jolted as something stirred in one of the cages, like a crinkling paper sound. Peering over the top of the cage, I braced myself for the worst. I knew these animals were here because they were injured, so I had to expect it, right?

But I couldn't prepare myself for what I saw.

Nope, it wasn't gross or scary.

Instead, it was so ridiculously
cute
.

A tiny squirrel was curled up inside a bunch of shredded newspaper, his nose twitching as I leaned closer. A blue bandage—like the one Mom had given the fox—was wrapped around his front leg.

“Hey, little guy,” I whispered. He looked so pitifully adorable. “Do you know where everyone is?”

Just then, the door burst open. A kid with a wool hat and the world's largest rubber boots clattered inside. In his hands was a jet-black bird that glared at me accusingly.

“Who are you?!” he demanded. His jaw was jutted forward, and he seemed to have forgotten he was holding a bird.

“I'm Ana,” I said hesitantly. Then I forced myself to stand a little taller. There was no way I was going to let a kid like this freak me out. I'd faced off against crocodiles,
thankyouverymuch
. “I'm a new volunteer here. Today's my first day. Who are you?”

He stomped over to one of the birdcages and tucked the black bird inside, latching the door carefully. “You're not supposed to be in here!” he said, his voice getting higher with each word. “It's against the rules. You're supposed to wait out there,” he said matter-of-factly, pointing at the reception area.

“Hey, listen,” I said, holding up my hands in apology. “I was looking for Kate?”

“That's enough, Andrew,” a sharp Australian voice made us both jump.

I whirled around, facing a woman with short, silvery-gray hair, rosy cheeks, and the dirtiest coveralls I'd ever seen. Spatters of blood, dried milk, and some unidentified brown goo were everywhere.

Though I had a feeling I knew what it was.

“Hi!” I said, determined to make a good first impression. “You must be Kate!” I went to stick out my hand for her to shake it, then noticed she already had a mitt full of—what
were
those?

I took a step back as I realized whatever they were looked very
dead
.

She grinned. “Frozen mousicles for our great horned owl,” she explained, dumping the lot of them into a Tupperware on the counter. They clattered like ice cubes. Wiping her palm on her coveralls, she stuck out her hand. “I am indeed Kate, and you must be Ana.”

Gulping, I shook her hand, trying to remember Dad's instructions to keep my handshake firm, but not so tight that people would think I was a crazy person. But what do you do when the person whose hand you're shaking was just holding a bunch of dead, frozen mice?

“I am,” I said. “Thank you very much for letting me help out today.” I smiled, my eyes drifting over to the mice again.

“Say hello, Andrew,” Kate instructed, giving me the teensiest wink.

Beside us, Andrew scuffed his boots. “Hello,” he said dully.

“At eight years old,” Kate said, “Andrew is our youngest volunteer.” Her eyebrow quirked. “He's excellent at helping with the birds, and I must say he gets rather
protective
over them.” Immediately, with the frozen mice and quirky attitude, I knew I liked her.

“It so happens you came at the perfect time,” she said, clapping her hands together. “One of our volunteers couldn't show up today, so I can use the extra hand. Did your bring your immunization record so I can make a copy?” She dug into her pocket as she spoke and pulled out a few almonds, flicking bits of pocket lint from them with her finger. “Care for one?” she asked.

“No thanks,” I said. “And yeah, it's right here. Mom made a copy for you to save time.”

“What's that for?” Andrew boosted himself up on his tiptoes to see.

“This is to show that Ana here has received all the necessary vaccinations to work with the animals we have here,” she explained slowly and carefully for him. At that moment, I was super jealous of her cool Aussie accent. I was pretty sure if I had an accent, people would take me a lot more seriously.

“Is it so she doesn't get rabies?” Andrew asked, eyes wide.

“Precisely.” She nodded. She reached up to tap my head with one solid knock. “Can't have your brain swelling up like a unpopped kernel of corn, can we?! Not on your first day! And now we need to make sure someone
else
doesn't get it.”

I watched as she rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small syringe, along with a tiny, wrapped blue needle. “Syringe.” She held it up to me. Then she cracked open the package, exposing the blue cap where it would connect with the plastic syringe. “Needle,” she said.

I nodded.

“Would you mind going into the fridge and getting me the bottle marked RaVac3, please?”

I blinked, then realized she was talking to me. “Yes, ma'am,” I said, scrambling over to the fridge. Thankfully, the key to the lock was still stuck inside. Searching along the door, I found the bottle and handed it to her. Even though I
technically
had no idea what I was doing, I couldn't help but feel a thrill at helping her. That needle was no joke!

“Observe,” she instructed. “You want the same amount of air in the syringe that you need for the vaccine before you stick it in the bottle.” She pulled the syringe back a teensy bit, then carefully jabbed it into the plastic top of the bottle, tipping the whole thing upside down.

“Then you push the plunger down once inside and pull up however much dose you need.”

I swallowed hard. “Will…will I be expected to do this?” My cheeks burned. “I mean, should I take notes or something?”

She eyed me and pulled the needle from the bottle. “Not today you won't have to,” she said, smiling. The wrinkles around her eye crinkled even more. “But someday! And you might find that eventually you don't need notes at all! Trust your brain. It's big enough!”

“Right,” I said, breathing a little easier. “Gotcha.”

“Next, you cap the needle
immediately
,” she said, clicking the blue cap into place again. “No excuses. No distractions. No maybes. Immediately!”

“Immediately!” Andrew echoed, giving me a super-serious old-man glare. I was beginning to think this kid was a human version of Darwin, my parrot.

“Got it,” I said, taking the bottle from her and putting it back into the fridge. “Now what?”

She grinned widely and turned, starting to march out of the room. Her hand lifted in a victory charge. “Now we go find the wee beastie! Andrew, you're on bird duty while we're busy. Make sure Rupert gets extra mealworms today and do
not
open the Cooper's hawk cage because he
will
bite you! I don't have time to bandage your hand again, you hear me? Ana, grab one of those big garbage bags on the way out and the goggles hanging by the door, please!”

“Yes, ma'am!” He saluted her as I charged out the door, following Kate. For a woman who was clearly in her sixties or seventies, she seemed as spry as Grandpa. I panted after her outside, stuffing the garbage bag into my coveralls as I walked. In the cold air, I was thankful Mom had forced me to wear a pair of long johns, even though they were completely embarrassing and gave me a wedgie. From the look of Kate, she wasn't about to bad-mouth my fashion choices. It was actually sort of
nice
not to think about how I looked, unlike in school where I felt like we were all walking some pretend runway with judges scoring us behind our backs.

“So what kind of animal are we vaccinating?” I asked, falling into step with her. Our rubber boots clomped along in unison on the dirt road away from the clinic.

Her lips formed a thin line. “Some of the volunteers have been calling him Calvin,” she said, digging into her pockets and handed me a thick, rubbery pair of gloves. “As in Calvin Klein. But you will know him as the western spotted skunk.”

Gulp.

I hunched as low as I could in the cage, trying to keep my head from knocking into the chicken wire that lined the top. The cold air was making my nose run, and the outdoor cages surrounding us looked particularly creepy against the gray sky.

But it was still so
cool
.

So far, Kate and I had not only stepped
willingly
inside a skunk's cage, but now we were supposed to actually catch him, so she could stick him with a needle to make sure he didn't get rabies.

Oh, and to top it off, I was wearing a garbage bag. Apparently the latest technology we have against getting sprayed by skunks was Glad bags and goggles.

Seriously.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay relaxed. This definitely wasn't the same as the zoo, but there was something thrilling about the sheer
wildness
of it all. The animals here weren't used to people, and that made them seem even more mysterious. It was a whole different kind of fun.

“The trick to skunks,” she said in a whisper. “Is that they give you plenty of warning before they spray. They stomp. They lift their wee rumps in the air. If we are quick enough, you can grab him, tuck his tail, and Bob's your uncle, we'll have it done.” She dug into her pocket and popped another almond into her mouth. Her eyes lifted to the darkening sky.

“Tuck his tail?” I asked, my voice squeaking. This plan didn't seem—what was the word again?—
sane
. And who the heck was Bob?

I tried to keep my panic from showing. So far we hadn't spotted the skunk (no pun intended), but from what Kate had told me, he was only a few feet away beneath a pile of logs and dirt.

“Calvin is still very young, one of this year's late fall litters. If you tuck his tail under him in your hands, he won't spray you.”

I blinked. It sounded too good to be true. “For real? That's pretty amazing,” I said. “Sort of like an off button!”

She nodded. “Kind of. But don't worry, if you don't manage it, it won't be so bad because he's only a wee thing. Go ahead and start slowly digging through those logs. Gloves on, he won't be able to hurt you.”

“He won't bite me?” I asked, feeling the dread grow in my stomach. From what
I
knew about animals, anything with sharp teeth
could
and
would
bite you.

“Oh, he'll bite you.” She grinned. “But the gloves will keep you safe. Just remember: once you find him, cup your hands around him and get that tail tucked. He's only about the size of your two palms together.”