Poached (5 page)

Marge stayed frozen for several seconds. Then she raised a fist and banged on the glass. “Hey!” she shouted. “Kazoo! Wake up!”

I heaved a sigh of relief. Marge had been looking at the koala, not me.

“Stop that!” Kristi ordered. “You're not supposed to tap on the glass! No one is!”

“Oh, pipe down,” Marge said. “Kazoo didn't even notice. The lazy thing's been here two weeks and I've never seen it awake.”

She stormed out of the viewing area. Thirty seconds later I heard her and Kristi enter the keepers' office. Marge took her time casing that room as well, even though it was small enough to reach across. Finally I heard her warn Kristi, “If you see any sign of Teddy Fitzroy—and I mean
any
sign—you'd best report it to me right away. That boy caused some serious trouble today. People could've been hurt. And if I hear you've protected him, by gum, I will come down on you like a sledgehammer. Understand?”

“Sure,” Kristi said. “I understand.”

I heard Marge leave.

Then, after the door clicked shut, I heard Kristi say, “What a psycho.”

A minute later she entered the koala habitat. As her shift was almost over, it was time for her to do a final check on Kazoo. She moved quietly, doing her best not to wake the koala.

I thought about saying hello, but I couldn't figure out
how to do it without scaring the daylights out of her. After all, Kristi had no reason to suspect that I—or anyone—would be hidden in Kazoo's exhibit. If I suddenly popped out of the eucalyptus, I'd probably give her a heart attack. Or she'd scream so loud that she'd give Kazoo a heart attack. And then I'd really be in trouble.

So I held still. Kristi's rounds didn't take very long anyhow. She spent less than a minute in the habitat. She simply filled a bowl with fresh drinking water, then whispered, “Nighty-night, Kazoo,” dimmed the lights, and slipped back out the door.

I listened to Kristi collecting her things in the office, planning to wait a few minutes after she left to make sure the coast was clear before going myself. However, I was wiped out from my race across FunJungle, the koala habitat was warm and cozy, and all the eucalyptus fumes made me drowsy. Before I knew it, I'd nodded off. I wasn't even aware of it happening.

When I snapped awake again, it was almost pitch-black in the exhibit. Night had fallen. For a moment I had no idea where I was. Then everything came back to me. I checked my watch and saw it was five thirty in the evening. I'd been asleep for half an hour.

I couldn't hear Kristi in the office anymore, and I figured that even Large Marge would have called off the hunt for me
after thirty minutes. The exhibit was so dark I could barely see my own hands, let alone Kazoo.

Not wanting to disturb him, I quietly got to my feet, slipped my backpack on, and tiptoed out of the exhibit. Outside, FunJungle was dark, cold, and eerily deserted. I hurried off toward Monkey Mountain, figuring Mom would still be in her office there. There was no sign of Marge or any of the other security guards.

I couldn't help but smile as I crossed the park, proud of myself for outwitting security and eluding capture—at least for the time being.

I had no idea that my troubles were just beginning.

That night, at dinner in
our trailer, I told my parents everything that had happened. There was no point in lying to them. They would have found out anyhow, so it was better that they heard the truth right up front from me.

Although they weren't pleased that I had participated in the prank, they were far angrier at Vance and TimJim for forcing me into it—and at Marge and the security guards for blindly assuming I was involved. I think Dad actually found the whole thing pretty funny, though he didn't admit it in front of Mom. When I told about Marge slipping in the vomit and taking out all the tourists, Dad had to leave the room. He claimed he had to blow his nose, but I'm 99 percent sure he was laughing.

The only thing my parents were
really
upset at me for was hiding in the koala exhibit. “You know you are never, ever
to enter a habitat without a keeper,” Mom scolded. “Kazoo could have been hurt.”

“He didn't even know I was there,” I said. “He slept through the whole thing. I didn't go anywhere near him.”

“Even so,” Mom chided. “I don't want you thinking that's ever okay.” There was no one more protective of the animals' welfare than my mother.

“It was an emergency,” I explained. “It's not like I did it for fun.”

“I understand that,” Mom said. “But the next time you're in trouble—not that I expect it to happen again—come to me or your father. We can handle Marge and her minions.”

I lowered my eyes, feeling ashamed. “Everything happened so fast. I didn't have enough time to think things through.”

“How'd you even know the security code to get inside?” Dad asked.

“Summer gave it to me,” I admitted. “It works on all the exhibits.”

Dad looked at me curiously. “And you never told us about it?”

“Summer told me not to. She said it was for emergencies only. I forgot I even knew it until this afternoon.”

“If you ever use it again, you'll be in big trouble,” Mom warned.

“Okay,” I said.

Mom started to say something else, but Dad put a hand on hers and said, “I'm sure Teddy understands. He was in a tough spot tonight, and frankly, I think he handled himself rather well overall.”

Mom nodded and gave me an apologetic smile. “I suppose you did, given the circumstances. It's those bullies who put you in this situation that I really ought to be talking to.” She pounded the kitchen table angrily. “I ought to call their parents right now.”

“No!” I said, a little too quickly. “That will only make them angrier at me.”

Mom frowned at this but realized I was right. “Well, we have to do
something
. This has to stop. And your principal was obviously completely ineffectual against these boys.”

“I think Mr. Dillnut got me in
more
trouble with them,” I said.

Mom sighed. “It's times like this when I feel a bit too removed from society. After all those years in the bush, I keep thinking humans will behave as nicely toward one another as gorillas do. But they don't, do they?”

“No,” I admitted.

“So what do we do now?” Mom looked to Dad for help.

“You could put itching powder in those guys' shorts,” he suggested.

“Jack!” Mom cried, then gave Dad a playful smack on the shoulder. “Don't go putting bad ideas in Teddy's head.”

“Too late,” I said. “I already tried pranking Vance. In fact that's why he was so mad at me this time.”

“What'd you do?” Dad asked.

“I put a snake in his gym bag.”

Dad stared at me for a moment, then grinned. “That's my boy,” he said.

We all went to bed without solving the bully problem. I had a lot of trouble going to sleep, plagued by thoughts of Vance or Large Marge coming after me the next day. Plus, my bedroom was as cold as a meat locker.

The perk of free housing at FunJungle had sounded great on paper, but in reality it hadn't turned out so well. We'd known we were only going to live in trailers, but I, at least, had assumed they'd actually be nice trailers. Instead J.J. (who lived in a sprawling, twenty-four-room ranch house) had simply bought a bunch of cheap trailers in bulk. The walls were paper thin, the electricity tended to conk out, and the heaters were so weak that I could often see my breath inside. Despite this, no one ever complained. This was partly because the employees were so committed to their animals that they were usually at FunJungle during all their waking hours—and partly because field biologists have very low
standards for living conditions. In the Congo my family had spent more than a decade living in a tent, so for us, simply having a roof counted as a luxury.

It seemed as though I had just finally fallen asleep when an intermittent buzzing woke me.

It took me a few seconds to figure out it was my phone. According to my clock it was five thirty in the morning. I sat up groggily, annoyed at whatever jerk had the nerve to call so early, then I checked the caller ID.

It was Summer McCracken.

All my aggravation vanished in an instant. In fact I was suddenly thrilled.

I hadn't spoken to Summer in months. Unlike me, she didn't have to attend the closest public school. Being the thirteen-year-old daughter of J.J. McCracken, she attended an elite girls' prep school in Connecticut.

Summer was the first friend I'd made in Texas. We'd bonded while investigating Henry the Hippo's murder. We'd hung out a bit after that, so I'd expected—perhaps a bit naively—that we'd stay in close touch once the school year began. However, once Summer left town, it quickly became evident that she had plenty of other friends to distract her. I had only received the occasional e-mail or text message from her since. And while we'd planned to get together for lunch over Thanksgiving break, that had been derailed when her
parents had suddenly decided to take her skiing in Aspen. Not that I could blame her for going.

I tried not to text Summer too much, wanting her to think I was quite busy myself, even though I wasn't. On occasion I actually found myself hoping another animal would die under mysterious circumstances so that we'd have an excuse to talk again.

Given that, I probably should have been more suspicious about
why
Summer was calling at such a ridiculously early hour. But all I could think about was how nice it would be to hear her voice again.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound like I hadn't just woken up.

“Where are you right now?” she asked.

“Where do you think? I'm in bed. It's five thirty in the morning.”

“Well, get up and get dressed. Fast. You need to get out of there.”

I stayed where I was, thinking Summer was joking. “This isn't funny.”

“No, it's not. Large Marge is coming to arrest you right now. And she's got some cop from juvenile services with her.”

I leaped to my feet. “Why? Because I put a plastic arm in the shark tank? That's not really a crime, is it?”

“An arm in the shark tank?” Summer suddenly seemed to realize she knew far more than I did about my current
situation. “Teddy, they think you stole the koala.”

Summer might as well have slapped me across the face. I was completely stunned, a hundred questions tumbling around in my head at once. Without even realizing I was doing it, I started yanking clothes on. “Somebody stole Kazoo?”

“Yes! Last night!”

“Well, it wasn't me.”

“If I thought you'd done it, would I be calling you right now?”

“No, but . . .” I shook my head, trying to clear the last cobwebs of sleep from my brain. “Why do they think it was me?”

“Apparently, they have security footage of you going in and out.”

I winced. There were security cameras everywhere around FunJungle. Thousands of them. “But they couldn't possibly show me with the koala. I didn't take him.”

“They show you with a backpack, I think. Something big enough to put the koala in. And now the koala's gone—and no one entered the exhibit last night besides you.”

I did my best to remain calm, though it wasn't easy. “You're sure about that?”

“That's what my dad says.”

I was now dressed. My clothes, which I'd simply grabbed
off the floor, were completely mismatched. I jammed my feet into a pair of sneakers, grabbed my winter jacket, and exited my bedroom. Our trailer only had four rooms: my bedroom, my parents', the bathroom, and the kitchen/family room/living room/everything else. Mom and Dad emerged from their bedroom as I came out of mine, obviously roused by my phone call. I hadn't thought to keep my voice down. Both my parents wore pajamas but were surprisingly alert, given the time.