The Menagerie (15 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

S
ix hours later, Logan sat down on the bench outside the ice-cream shop and rubbed his sore legs.

“I cursed us,” he said ruefully. “Why is there so much food in this town?”

“You mean, why
was
there,” Zoe said. She pulled out her phone and started typing a message to her parents.

“School cafeteria,” Logan said, counting on his fingers. “Pizza place. Candy store. The Dumpster behind the supermarket. The Dumpster behind the sandwich shop. All the cat food in the pet store, but none of the dog food. We're lucky he didn't try to break into the hamster cages. The freezers at both Chinese food places and the Mexican place. All the Twinkies in the 7-Eleven, but nothing else, so maybe he's finally getting full.”

“It's like we're searching for a bottomless pit instead of a griffin cub,” Zoe said. Her phone buzzed. “Okay, Mom and Dad are at the Buffalo Bill Diner, but everything seems normal there. And Blue is still stuck in crisis management with his parents. I guess the mermaids haven't done all the underwater things on SNAPA's list yet.” She sighed. “I feel like I should be there helping. I'm better at the scuba work than Matthew is.”

“You are helping,” Logan said. “Finding the cubs is the most important thing, right?”

“Maybe I'd feel that way if we
were
finding a cub,” she said ruefully.

“Well, let's think,” Logan said. “This cub is fast, stealthy, and on a totally different mission than the others.”

“Mission Eat the Entire Planet Before We Stop Him,” Zoe agreed.

Logan stood and began pacing up and down the sidewalk. They hadn't made it to his house yet, and he was starting to fantasize longingly about clean T-shirts. They also hadn't stopped for lunch, although it didn't seem like the red griffin had left anything uneaten in the whole town anyway.

A few blocks down the street, a flash of reflected light from one of the library windows caught Logan's eye. “Hey,” he said, “there was a flyer in the library about missing sheep. Is there any chance the griffin could have eaten those, too?”

Zoe shoved back her hair and twisted one of her earrings as she thought. “I doubt it,” she said. “Even after eating all this, he'd still be smaller than a sheep, and the cubs have never learned to hunt or kill anything. Besides, that flyer's probably been up for a while. The ranchers around here are always complaining about something.”

“Okay.” Logan stopped and rocked back on his heels. “Think. What does this griffin like to eat more than anything else? Does he have a favorite food?” He scratched his arms. “Can we think and bike to my house at the same time?”

Zoe nodded and followed him to their bikes. The morning chill had burned off quickly and it seemed like a hotter day than normal for late October. Logan led the way to his house, cutting through the supermarket parking lot on the way. He glanced at the Dumpsters again. From the mess and the way the bags were piled like a nest, he was afraid the griffin had slept there, which meant he was not going to be very pleasant smelling once they found him.

For the first time that day, Logan started feeling weird as he unlocked his door and let Zoe inside. While they were out searching, he hadn't even thought about how he was hanging out alone with a girl. But now she was in his house, and it was Zoe Kahn, of all people. Not the first friend he'd expected to bring home, and possibly the last girl.

He glanced around his living room and wished he'd vacuumed the beige carpet last week the way his dad had asked him to. It seemed like he could see crumbs everywhere. His Gatorade was still on the coffee table from yesterday afternoon. And Purrsimmon was sitting on top of the brown leather armchair, glaring at him.
Replace ME with a griffin cub?
her expression said.
WELL, I NEVER.

“Sorry, Purrs,” Logan said, offering her his hand. She turned up her nose at him and twitched her tail.

“I'll just be a minute,” Logan said to Zoe. He took the mouse food he'd bought at the pet store into his room, closed the door, and fed Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who looked a lot happier now that a griffin wasn't eyeing them hungrily through the glass. Logan shoveled his clothes off the floor into the laundry basket. As he dug through his drawers, Zoe started talking to him through the door.

“The griffins all like fish,” she said. “We have a lot of fish in the lake, so the griffins get plenty of that. Um. Matthew gave them chocolate once, and they all freaked out—it was like a griffin rodeo in there for the rest of the day.” Her voice wandered away, as if she was exploring his living room.

Logan grabbed an orange T-shirt with a bulldog on it, gave it a quick sniff, and then discarded it again
. There's got to be something clean in here somewhere.
He finally found a striped yellow-and-gray T-shirt and switched out his cargo pants for blue jeans, plus a gray zippered hoodie.

“We grilled for the whole Menagerie for the Fourth of July.” Zoe's voice sounded like she was in the kitchen now. “The cubs were only a month old at that point, but they each got a cheeseburger. They totally loved—” She stopped talking abruptly.

“Zoe?” Logan called. She didn't answer.
Uh-oh,
Logan thought. What could she have found? Was there anything embarrassing in the kitchen?

He threw on new socks and different sneakers, poured fish food into Warrior's bowl, and ran back through the living room.

Zoe was standing in front of the refrigerator, staring at the door.

“What?” Logan asked. “Did you think of something the griffin would want?”

“Um—yeah,” Zoe said. “Yes. Cheeseburgers. Right. I have to call my dad. Stay here.”

Logan blinked as she disappeared out the front door. What the heck? He glanced at the fridge. It was covered in magnets from Chicago, old photos, invitations to his dad's department events, recycling info, a calendar, and a couple of takeout menus. Nothing very dramatic here.

Unless she'd noticed the department of wildlife heading on his dad's papers. Logan rubbed his head, worrying. Yes, his dad's department would probably want to know about griffins and dragons in their neighborhood. But surely Zoe knew he would never
tell
his dad about the Menagerie.

Maybe she was mad that he hadn't mentioned his dad's job. Mad enough to wipe his memories? Would she think he was a threat to the Menagerie now? Would Blue agree with her?

Logan got a couple of clear plastic bottles and filled them with water, to make sure he'd have something safe to drink, just in case. He also wrote a quick note to his dad, letting him know he'd been home. Then, since Zoe still wasn't back, he made them both peanut butter sandwiches with blueberry jam. He packed up some carrot sticks and a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies. They could take everything to go and keep searching.

He gave the door a nervous look. This seemed like a long conversation.
Focus on the griffins. The more useful you are, the more likely they are to trust you and keep you around.

“Cheeseburgers,” he muttered. Squorp had eaten a fair amount of their hamburger meat, but he found another block of it at the back of the freezer and defrosted it in the microwave. He separated out two patties and cooked them on their countertop grill, then packed the rest of the meat into a cooler bag with several slices of American cheese and a squeeze bottle of ketchup. Just in case, he threw in a bottle of chocolate syrup as well, then packed a few other supplies in his backpack.

He was just zipping up the bag when Zoe opened the front door. She definitely looked upset.

“What happened?” Logan asked. “Is everything okay?”

Zoe nodded, but the look on her face was the same as the one he'd seen Friday morning when she was lying to him about losing her dog. Logan wondered if he should bring up his dad's job . . . but if that wasn't the problem, he didn't want to
make
it the problem.

“I made sandwiches,” Logan said, pushing hers toward her. “And I have an idea about the cheeseburgers.”

“Okay,” Zoe said. “Whatever you think. Let's just go.”

Logan hesitated.
Maybe she'll be willing to talk about it after we find the next griffin,
he thought. “Bye, Purrsimmon,” he called into the living room. “I promise you're still my favorite cat.”

“RRRREOW,”
she grumbled.

Outside, Logan stared at his bike for a moment, holding the two cooked hamburgers in a napkin in his hand.

“What's happening?” Zoe asked.

“I was thinking we'd ride through town with these and lure him to the grills in Teddy Roosevelt Park,” Logan said. “But I can't figure out how to attach a hamburger to my bicycle.”

Zoe covered her mouth with one hand, like she was fighting back a laugh. “Let me see.”

Finally Logan went back inside for some dental floss, which they used to tie one of the hamburgers to the book rack on the back of his bike. It was kind of gross, even with a paper towel underneath it, since the meat was still a bit raw and drippy.

“My poor bike,” Logan said.

“I just hope Jasmin doesn't see me like this,” Zoe said. Her bike didn't have a book rack, so they tied the other hamburger onto the front like a meaty headlamp. “It's a level of weird I don't think I've ever reached before.”

Logan laughed. “All right, so I'll go one way through town and you go the other way, and hopefully the griffin will catch the scent and follow us there.”

“See you at the reserve,” Zoe said, wheeling her bike down the drive. She hesitated at the bottom, looked back at him like she wanted to say something, then took off.

That summer, whenever Logan's dad wasn't working on a weekend, he'd taken Logan to his favorite wildlife preserve: Teddy Roosevelt Park, right on the outskirts of Xanadu. There were hiking trails and fishing ponds, but most importantly, at least for what Logan wanted, there was an open grassy picnic area with tables and grills.

He got there a few moments before Zoe and picked a grill not far from the trees. “We're supposed to have a permit to use this,” Logan said as she came up. He winced, realizing how “department of wildlife” that sounded.

“It's nearly November,” Zoe pointed out. “I'm sure no one really cares. I'll text my parents to meet us here.”

Logan pulled a small bag of charcoal out of his backpack and tipped it into the grill. He was about to light a match when a family came out of the woods nearby, and he had to quickly hide the matchbook in his hand.

Besides the parents, there were three guys and two little girls. He recognized one of the guys from school—Marco Jimenez, soccer captain and class clown, and one of the only other different-looking faces in the seventh grade. Marco squinted at Zoe and Logan across the field while his family climbed into their minivan. It occurred to Logan that this might look really weird, hanging around a grill with Zoe, alone, at this time of year. He smiled and waved, hoping that was the normal-person thing to do.

To his surprise, Marco waved back. A few minutes later, they were gone, and Logan lit the grill.

“Everyone's coming,” Zoe said, pocketing her phone. He wasn't sure she'd even noticed Marco.

“Hopefully the red griffin will, too, once he smells this,” Logan said.

Logan put the first uncooked hamburger patty on the grill, and they sat down at the picnic table to eat their sandwiches. Zoe kept glancing at him with that same look, like she wanted to say something, but whenever he met her eyes, she'd turn away again.

“You know what?” he said finally. “You should hide. He doesn't know who I am, but if the griffin sees you, he might know it's a trap.”
Also, it would be great to not sit here in awkward silence.

Zoe ran her hands through her hair and nodded. “Okay. Good idea.” She threw her leftovers in the trash and ran her bike over to the restrooms shack next to the parking lot.

The first hamburger turned into a charred lump, and Logan threw it out, putting another one on in its place. He added a piece of cheese in case that helped.

Nothing happened for what seemed like a long time. Logan ate a few carrot sticks and checked his watch. Maybe this wasn't going to work after all.

Just then he felt a prickling sensation along his spine. He knew what that feeling meant.

Someone was watching him.

TWENTY-SIX

L
ogan leaned on the table casually, searching the trees out of the corner of his eye. It took him a moment to spot it: a few yards away, hidden in the red and orange leaves of a tall oak tree, a pair of sharp black eyes was peering at the smoking grill.

Whistling, Logan added a few more hamburgers to the grill. He'd forgotten to bring a plate, so he slid the cooked cheeseburger onto his paper sandwich bag.

“Mmmm,” he said loudly. “I'll just let this cool off for a minute.” He set the cheeseburger on the end of the table closest to the woods, then bent down to get a water bottle out of his bag.

When he sat up again, the cheeseburger was gone.

Okay, THAT was fast,
Logan thought. He'd expected to catch the griffin midtheft, but the cub must have flashed in and out of the trees at warp speed.

“Huh,” he said out loud. “Did I eat that and forget about it? Weird!” The new hamburgers weren't cooked through yet, but he was sure the griffin cub wouldn't care. He put another one out on the bag and glanced in the direction Zoe had vanished. What were they supposed to do now?

“SQUOOORP.”

Logan jumped. That sounded closer than the trees. He looked around slowly, then crouched.

The griffin cub was hiding under a picnic table a few feet away.

His feathers and fur were a warm, rusty red tinged with orange around the wingtips. He looked uncomfortably squished under the table, and Logan could tell he was quite a bit bigger than Squorp and Clonk—not as tall as Clink, but much rounder. This griffin definitely would not have fit in a backpack. Crumbs and bits of food were stuck to his chest feathers and big lion paws.

He stared at Logan solemnly.

“Oh, hey,” Logan said. “Do you like hamburgers? I have a couple more.”

The griffin gave him a wide-eyed, plaintive look, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

“With cheese?” Logan offered.

Cheeeeese,
the griffin agreed, clacking his beak. Logan beckoned, holding out the burger, and the griffin cub wriggled squashily out from under the table. He edged closer to Logan, eyeing the cheeseburger, but stopped warily out of reach.

“Do you have a name yet?” Logan asked. He sat down on the grass and opened one of the cheese slices for himself.

The griffin shook his head.

“Maybe we should call you . . .” Logan thought about the griffin's brothers and sisters. Clink, Clonk, Squorp, Flurp. “Hmm. How about Yump?”

Yump,
the griffin thought.
Yump. Yump hungry. Yump like food. Yump want meat. Yump Yump Yump. Does sound like me.
He flicked his tail across the grass and gave Logan an eagle smile.
Better than Roly-Poly. YUMP.

“Great,” Logan said. Poor Zoe and her hopelessly wrong names for the cubs. “Have a cheeseburger, Yump.”

The griffin cub stretched his neck forward and snatched the burger out of Logan's hands. He backed up a few steps and gobbled it down.

“So, Yump,” Logan said. “Do you miss your family?”

Yump made a sound like a snort.
Not one bit.
He stretched his wings expressively.
No sharing out here! Best world ever!

“Okay,” Logan said. So that strategy wasn't going to work. “What's your favorite thing you've eaten today?”

Cheeseburgers,
Yump thought at once.
No, pizza. No, frozen dumplings. No, Twinkies. Wait! Yummy cans of cat. No . . . cheeseburgers.

“Please don't tell me you thought you were actually eating cat,” Logan said.

Yump tilted his head at him.
Pictures of cats on cans!

“Terrible, Yump,” Logan said. “That was food FOR cats. You shouldn't eat cats anyway. You're, like, distantly related.” Purrsimmon had enough problems without having to dodge hungry griffin cubs when she went out at night.

Hmmm,
the griffin said, sidling closer.
More cheeseburgers?

Logan got up and slid the last burgers off the grill. He set them down on the table next to him and held out his hand. Yump delicately placed his front paw in Logan's palm and allowed Logan to help him waddle up onto the table.

“You know,” Logan said, “I heard the Menagerie was thinking of making every Friday Cheeseburger Night.”

The griffin's head shot up, and he stared at Logan suspiciously.
You from Menagerie?

“Have some more cheese,” Logan said, peeling the wrappers off the cheese slices. Yump snapped them up and went back to the hamburgers. “Yump, listen, I know you've had a great day, but if you keep eating like this, you'll never be able to fly. The Menagerie knows how much you need to eat and how to take care of you. It's dangerous out here.”

Bah,
Yump muttered.
Yump just fine. Yump great at finding food. Yump take care of himself! Yump NEVER BE HUNGRY AGAIN!

Something zipped through the air right over the griffin's head and clonked into the picnic table.

Logan and Yump both stared at it. It took Logan a minute to realize it was a tranquilizer dart.

Unfortunately, Yump realized it first.

BETRAYED!
he howled.
Delicious cheeseburger TREACHERY!
He threw himself off the picnic table with a thump as Logan leaped to his feet.

Zoe's parents came running out of the woods in one direction; Matthew and Blue appeared from the other. Except for Blue, they were all carrying tranq guns.

RUDE!
Yump shrieked, galloping in a wide, zigzagging circle. Despite his girth, he was astonishingly fast. He zipped by Blue, who threw himself at the cub and ended up face-first in the grass. Zoe's dad shot at the griffin again, but Yump dodged out of the way. He barreled toward Zoe's parents, trying to get around them into the woods.

Zoe's mom hit a button on her wristband, and a huge net flew out into the air. For a moment Logan was sure it would catch Yump—but then the griffin ducked and rolled right under it. He bounced to his paws again in front of Zoe's dad and veered off toward the parking lot.

Logan chased after him. “Yump!” he shouted. “Wait! We can get you burgers! Whatever you want!”

Nooooo!
Yump howled, knocking over a grill with his wings.
Yump HATE sharing! All food mine all mine food!

Zoe sprinted out of the restrooms shack and darted in front of the griffin cub at the parking lot. Yump skidded to a stop.

“It's me,” Zoe called to him. “Remember? I gave you jelly­beans before anyone else did!”

Also gave it to brothers and sisters! Not nearly enough jellybeans for Yump!

Yump swung around toward the woods again, pumping his wings as he ran as if he was trying to fly. His tail lashed out and knocked over a trash can. He was leaving big lion paw prints in the dirt. Logan was sure his dad would be out here frowning in confusion at those tomorrow.

Logan ran back to the picnic table and pulled out the bottle of chocolate sauce. “Yump!” he yelled. “Look! Chocolate sauce! You can have the whole bottle if you come back quietly!”

Yump can have all the chocolate he wants out here!
the cub bellowed, swerving around Zoe's mom and tearing toward the trees.
Yump FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

A tranquilizer dart thudded into his thigh. Yump tumbled into a somersault and collapsed in a heap on the ground two strides from the woods.

“Nice shot,” Zoe's dad called to Matthew. Matthew lifted his tranq gun and bowed like a conductor of an orchestra.

Logan ran over to the griffin cub and knelt beside him. The griffin's eyes were closed, and his roly-poly paws were flopped out on either side.

“I'm sorry, Yump,” Logan said, resting one hand on the cub's head. “I didn't mean to betray you. But this is for your own good, I promise.”

Zoe's dad drove the van up to the parking lot, and together they all heaved the griffin into the reconstructed cage in the back. Logan tucked the chocolate syrup bottle between Yump's front paws even though Matthew and Blue laughed at him.

“The last thing that griffin needs is more food,” Matthew pointed out.

“He'll be grumpy enough when he wakes up back at home,” Logan said. “At least now he'll have something of his own.”

“For about a nanosecond,” Blue said. “Until he eats it all.”

“We'll meet you back at the house,” said Zoe's dad, closing the van doors. “Zoe, quit giving me that look.” Zoe dropped her eyes and shoved her hands into her pockets.

So they're fighting about something,
Logan thought.
Is it me?

And if it was . . . was Zoe on his side or not?