Totally Toxic (6 page)

I spit until the soapy taste was gone; then I sat still and waited for the wooziness to pass. When I felt better, I explained to Grandpa about the new detergent Mom had used and the dizzying effect it had had on me. I was certain the two episodes had to be connected, and that they were more than likely linked to the factory's waste output.

“Mom's hunch was right,” I said, feeling anger churning inside me. “She had a feeling Mr. Hazmat was polluting the river. She's having a meeting about it on Sunday.”

“Mr. who?”

“Mr. Hazmat. He must be some dodgy business partner of Mr. Mitchell's, because his name is painted in great big letters on the side of a giant vat.” I was proud of my deductive reasoning. “So all we have to do is find this Mr. Hazmat, seeing as Mom couldn't get through to Mr. Mitchell, and tell him what's what.”

“Actually…” Grandpa cleared his throat, his eyes twinkling.
“Hazmat
is an abbreviation for
Hazardous Material.”

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Oh.”

Grandpa helped me up; I waited until he had made his way
back across the makeshift bridge. Then I positioned myself on the bank and sprang up and across the river. This time, I cleared the water and landed on the opposite side with no trouble at all.

“Nice one,” said Grandpa. “Good steady landing.”

“Thanks.”

“And as far as this whole waste issue is concerned,” he continued, “I'll see what I can find out about it as soon as we get home. In the meantime, we've got more training drills to do.”

I was just getting ready to attempt a second jump when we heard my mother's voice calling through the trees.

“What's she doing here?” I asked Grandpa in an urgent whisper.

He shrugged. Mom emerged from the woods, carrying my fishing pole.

“Thought you might need this,” she said. “How in the world does a person go fishing and forget to bring along her fishing pole?”

“Good question,” I mumbled, then forced a laugh. “Guess I'm not gonna be voted
Field and Stream's
Sportsgirl of the Year, huh?”

Mom looked me up and down, taking in my sopping wet jeans and dripping sweatshirt. “What happened?”

“Um… well, you see … I had this big fish on my line … this
really
big fish. …”

“Huge fish,” said Grandpa. “Enormous.”

“And I was trying to reel him in….”

Mom quirked an eyebrow. “Without a pole?”

“She was using mine,” Grandpa offered quickly.

“Right.” I picked up Grandpa's fishing pole from where it leaned against the tackle box to demonstrate. “But I wasn't used
to Grandpa's reel, and since the fish was so gigantic, I sort of lost control and got pulled into the river.”

“Are you all right?” Mom asked.

“I'm fine. Just a little wet.” I handed Grandpa his fishing pole and took the one my mother was holding. “I shouldn't have any trouble now that I've got my own pole.”

I fiddled with the reel for a moment. I hoped Mom wasn't going to wait around to watch me bait the ho ok. We didn't have any bait. We didn't even have any hooks, unless you counted the lures attached to Grandpa's hat.

But Mom wasn't looking at me; her gaze was fixed across the river, beyond the meadow. She was scowling at the factory with a very determined look in her eye.

I knew that look! She was planning something. And it didn't take a mind reader to imagine what it was.

think I'll go over to the factory gate and take a closer look,” said Mom.

I hadn't meant to yell, but I didn't like the idea of my mother wandering around over there. Sure, I didn't have any solid evidence that Mitchell Enterprises was up to no good… but then, I had no way of knowing that it wasn't, either. And although all I'd found so far was some soapy water, it was certainly possible that this guy was up to something much worse. And if that was true, chances were he wouldn't look kindly on Mom's snooping.

“Don't go!”

“Why not?” asked Mom.

“It's trespassing,” said Grandpa.

“Not if I stay outside the fence,” Mom argued.

Grandpa nodded reluctantly. “Good point.”

I searched for a reason that might change her mind. “I'm interested in this issue, too, and I'd like to join you in looking
for clues, but I can't go with you right now because Grandpa and I have more fishing to do.”

Mom gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I appreciate your interest, Zoe, but since I'm here, it would be silly not to go over there and check out that factory on my own.”

I slid Grandpa a look. I could tell he didn't like the idea of Mom walking into a dangerous situation, either.

“Zoe and I can go along with you on your search,” he said to my mother. “We can fish some other time.”

I felt a surge of relief. Maybe I wasn't allowed to use my superpowers yet, but I was sure that as a retired hero, Grandpa could protect Mom and me if anything came up.

“Good. Let's go.”

As we walked along the riverbank, Mom eyed the dead grass in the field. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head; I'd have bet a million bucks she was thinking the same thing I'd thought—that the factory was responsible. She turned away from the brown meadow and looked at the water.

“I think you gave up on your fishing too early,” she teased. “Looks like there's a big school offish swimming down there.” She pointed to a trail of bubbles, then frowned. “That's an awful lot of bubbles.”

I grinned. “Maybe it's not just a school. Maybe it's a whole
university
offish.”

But as the bubbles popped, I smelled flowery soap.

“When I was a little girl,” my mother said, “back before the Sweetbriar city council built the town pool, the river water was so clean and clear that we used to come here and swim.” She sighed over the memory, while I dragged my hand across my lips, which still tasted soapy.

“I wouldn't recommend that now,” I said.

“Neither would I!” Mom stopped in her tracks and pointed down the sloping embankment to the water. “Zoe, Zack … look.”

We looked. The end of a wide metal pipe—a newly installed one, from the shiny look of it—poked from the reeds. Spilling out of the pipe into the beautiful river was a stream of green goop. When the goop hit the water, it made a hissing sound and created a thick film of brownish green foam.

“That can't be good,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“It's not,” Mom agreed. “And it's certainly enough reason to launch an official protest. That looks disgusting!”

She was right. This was proof that something was being dumped into the river. In which case, the hazmat vat was just for show, since the waste was being routed right into the Sweetbriar.

“But why would someone dump this stuff in the river? Don't they know how bad that is for the environment?” I demanded. There had to be safer ways of getting rid of this nasty green sludge.

“It can be very expensive to dispose of dangerous chemicals properly,” Grandpa explained. “But some people are more concerned with making a quick buck than protecting the ducks.”

I couldn't help smiling at Grandpa's rhyming explanation. But as I thought about the ducks, I stopped smiling. They lived in that water. I was in the river for a few measly seconds, and I came up spitting soap bubbles. I could only imagine what was happening to the ducks, fish, frogs, and everything else that lived in the river.

More than ever, I wanted Mom to expose whatever Mr. Mitchell was up to.

And more than ever, I wanted to help.

On Sunday morning, I helped Mom prepare for the meeting. We set up an easel in the living room to hold a large map of Sweetbriar. Mom stuck in a red pushpin to indicate the factory's location. Then she used a yellow highlighter to outline the river while I laid out flyers on the dining room table, next to the trays of snacks we'd put out for the guests: lemon squares, shortbread cookies, and coffee cake. I was feeling pretty psyched about the meeting. It was going to be way more intense now that we had evidence!

“I'll finish up,” said Mom, replacing the cap on the highlighter with a little snap. “You go on upstairs and get dressed.”

She didn't have to tell me twice! Josh Devlin was coming to this meeting and I needed to look great. I dashed upstairs, careful to keep from breaking into superspeed.

In my room, I'd laid out four possible outfits. I studied them now, trying to decide which one was the most activist-ish ensemble. I wished I could call Emily for fashion advice, but I knew she would already be on her way to the mall with Caitlin.

It took me a while, but I finally settled on a pair of gray corduroy pants with a ribbon belt and a pink polo shirt. Then, for extra environmental cuteness, I added my endangered species charm bracelet just as the doorbell rang.

I stepped into the hall and listened eagerly. Sure enough, I could hear my mother inviting Mrs. Devlin and Josh inside.

Smiling like a nutcase, I headed down the stairs. Mrs. Devlin was hanging her jacket on the coatrack;Josh had made his way over to the map.

“Hi, Mrs. Devlin,” I said when I reached the bottom landing.

“Hey, Josh.” I sounded calm, but I was gripping the banister as tightly as I could without shifting into Super mode. I was still new at this boy-girl thing, but I was pretty sure smashing the railing with my bare hands wouldn't be considered good flirting form.

Two more attendees had arrived just behind the Devlins, and while Mom ushered them inside, I joined Josh at the easel. I picked up the plate of lemon squares Mom and I had baked and held it out to Josh. My bracelet jingled happily.

“Cool bracelet,” Josh said. “Is that a bald eagle?”

I held up my wrist so that the light caught the charm and flashed off the round head of the tiny eagle. “Yep. Every charm represents an endangered bird, mammal, or reptile. This one”— I pointed to the smallest trinket—“is a Choctawhatchee beach mouse.”

“What's that squirmy-looking one?”

I twisted the bracelet around so I could grasp the charm. “This is a Coachella Valley fringe-toed lizard. It's my favorite. I love its pointy toes. And when I shake my arm, it really does seem to squirm.”

“I like it.”

He liked it. I made a silent vow never to go anywhere without wearing that bracelet!

Josh smiled and bit into his lemon square just as the phone rang. I excused myself and went into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Zoe? It's Grandpa.”

“Hi, Grandpa.”

There was a short pause. “I need you to swing by the cleaner's. I have something important to show you.”

“Okay, sure.” I peeked around the kitchen doorframe and
watched Josh helping himself to a cup of punch. “As soon as the meeting is over, I'll—”

“Now, Zoe.”

“Now?”

I peeked into the living room again. More of Mom's activist friends and acquaintances had arrived. People were passing the flyers around and sounding interested and excited, and Josh looked so cool in his
SAVE THE WHALES
T-shirt. Surely whatever Grandpa wanted to show me could wait. Just then, Josh turned in my direction and waved at me. I nearly dropped the phone.

“I'll be there, Grandpa,” I said, returning Josh's wave. “Forty-five minutes, tops.”