The Queen of Cool (4 page)

“A total waste of time,” Perla says.

“Basically, it blows,” Kenji says, one hand on my thigh, and the other hand making its way down my shirt. “I don’t understand why you’re doing it. It’s for geeks.”

I don’t say anything. I twist away from Kenji.

“Where you going?” he says.

I reach into the Halloween candy bowl on the glass coffee table. It’s an excuse to get away from his slithering hands.

Strange. The more that they say it’s the
wrong
thing to do, the more I
want
to do it.

“It’s only for winter session,” I say. “Three months. Starts in December, ends by spring break.”

I look at them:

Kenji, stretching out his legs, kicking his snakeskin boots up on the coffee table.

Perla, in her pink feather sweater, staring blankly as she applies her lipstick for the fourth time in half an hour.

Mike Dutko, preoccupied with the Band-Aid on his hairy finger.

Sid, wearing vintage tortoiseshell glasses, peering out from underneath his sweatshirt hood. He thinks I don’t notice that he’s the only one looking at me and that he’s the only one who hasn’t weighed in either way.

He’s waiting for the explanation.

Then it dawns on me.

“There are these crabs in the ocean,” I begin. “They get into a fisherman’s net, and they’re too stupid to get out. They just can’t figure it out. But every once in a while, one crab figures out how to escape, and the other crabs go crazy and pull it back into the net; they pull its arms and legs off because they just don’t want it to leave.”

“I guess you’re
not
napping in science class,” Sid says.

“Are you calling me a crab?” Kenji asks.

I don’t say anything.

“Whatever,” Perla says, momentarily done with her preening. “She’ll still have plenty of time to hang out. How hard can it be? It’s the zoo. It’s just animals.”

“Exactly,” I say, looking at all of them. “Animals.”

Perla comes up to me between sixth and seventh period as I’m getting my textbook out of my locker.

“I have to baby-sit my cousin after school,” she says. “I pulled the family short straw.”

She puts her fingers in the form of an
L
on her forehead. The sign of the Loser.

“Well, I have a thing to do too. I have orientation at the zoo,” I say.

“Oh that. Can’t you skip it? I don’t want to baby-sit alone.”

“Uhm. I can’t.”

Perla pouts and bats her eyes.

“Not going to work on me,” I say. “Try it on Mike Dutko.”

“Ooh. That’s a good idea. He’d do anything for me. He
loves
me.”

She grins, making her finger pop out and up. The sign of the Boner.

The chair is hard as a rock, and the plastic digs into my back. Though I am uncomfortable, I try to seem engaged. When will Mrs. Torres, the animal services manager, get to the part where I can pay attention? All I can focus on is the tacky alligator earrings she is wearing.

At last she starts saying something interesting.

“Strict hygiene rules are in place here at the zoo due to diseases like mad cow and Newcastle virus.”

I shudder. The horror. She blah blah blahs more about the animals and the importance of hygiene.

“The condor is an endangered species. It is a California native, and it is a bird of prey,” Mrs. Torres says. “The public never sees the birds. We only breed them.”

I look around wondering if anyone is as startled as I am. What a sad life those endangered birds must have. Kept away from public eyes. Never free. A life secluded for the one chance of species survival. I shudder again.

“Cold?” Tiny asks. “Me too. I’m always cold. I’ll go ask them to turn down the air conditioning.”

Tiny climbs off her chair and talks to an animal service technician in the back of the room, who makes an adjustment on the thermostat.

I can’t believe it. I bet she totally played the dwarf card with that guy.

On her way back, she squeezes the arm of a geeky kid with a pizza face. He turns bright red and smiles at her. Then Tiny makes her way back over to her chair.

I wish she hadn’t sat next to me. Just because we go to the same school doesn’t make us automatic friends. She’s totally going to try to be buddy-buddy with me. I can tell.

“We do not ever work with any animals directly. They are off limits,” warns Mrs. Torres.

I raise my hand.

“Excuse me,” I say.

“Yes, Miss . . .”

“Brin,” I say. “Libby Brin.”

“Libby. Go ahead.”

“I don’t understand. We don’t
ever
get to touch the animals?”

“If you had read your paperwork, you would have seen that unless interns are eighteen years old, they are not allowed near any animals. You can clean cages. You can help with animal enrichment. You can and will learn biology. But these are WILD ANIMALS.”

“Well, what’s the point . . . ?”

“No one has
you
in a cage, Libby. You can leave the zoo at any time. There’s the exit.”

The other interns, not one of which looks at all cool, begin to laugh.

They are laughing at
me
!

Mrs. Torres waits to see what I will do before she starts talking again.

I cross my arms and make a big show of getting comfortable in my chair. When it’s clear I’m not leaving, she nods and continues.

“The procedure will be as follows: A team member will check in and receive your daily assignment. You will do whatever the animal keeper asks you to do. Your team will be required to take notes of your activities. You will be graded on these field books. You will be on duty with a different animal every week. When you are done with the internship, should you choose to continue with us here at the zoo, you will have had training enough to move on to the next level and apprentice with a specific kind of exotic animal.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how I feel about zoos,” Tiny says, twisting toward me. “But at least it’s better here than that old zoo. Have you ever been there? I mean, to the old zoo? Seen those tiny empty cages?”

“No,” I manage to respond.

“It’s just on the other side of the park. We should go one day. It’s really thought-provoking.”

Whatever.

Thankfully Mrs. Torres interrupts before I have to figure out some kind of an excuse. Normally I don’t feel as though I need to come up with one; I can just say
NO.
But Tiny is relentless. She seems like the kind of person who needs reasons.

“Now I will hand out your team assignments,” Mrs. Torres announces. “These will be your teams for the duration of the internship. Green Team will be Matthew Avilles, Consuela Adams, and Priscilla Brand. Blue Team will be Libby Brin, Sheldon Black, and Tina Carpentieri . . .”

Tiny smiles at me. Then she turns around and gives the thumbs-up to Pizza Face in the back of the room. That must be Sheldon Black.

Great. I’m on Team Loser. Not that there is anybody else’s team that seems to be any better. If I ever had any worries about my being uncool, they evaporate with one quick scan of the room. It’s like, which shade of awful would I pick? I suppose Pizza Face and Tiny are just as good as Fat Boy and Hairball.

I remind myself that I really should be nice to Tiny because she actually does well in school. Now that we’re on the same team, maybe I can copy some notes for some other classes.

“Libby, this is Sheldon.” Tiny introduces me to Pizza Face as we head down to the parking lot.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going to have to use your outdoor voice,” I say, “because I can’t hear you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sheldon says, a little louder this time.

“Libby and I go to school together, Shel. She’s the one who came up with the Speak-Like-a-Poet Day I told you about.”

Sheldon nods. I think he’s saying something, because his mouth is open again, but then again, maybe he’s just yawning.

So I yawn too.

As I get into my car, I see Tiny get into Pizza Face Sheldon’s car.

He glares at me. But Tiny smiles and means it as she tells me to have a nice weekend.

I’m sitting with Kenji drinking a beer at my Dead Celebrity Party. I am dressed up as Marilyn Monroe. Kenji is dressed up as Fat Elvis. Sid comes as Kurt Cobain. Perla arrives as Madonna.

“Perla, Madonna’s not
dead,
” I say.

“This is Madonna as the Material Girl, you know, circa 1985. That Madonna
is
dead,” she says.

“Whatever,” I say.

As usual there are more boys at the party than girls.

After a couple of beers, I’m drunk, so I look around for Kenji. I want to make out.

“Libby, you throw such a
great
party,” Perla says, putting her arm around me. Her lipstick is smeared, and Mike Dutko comes out of the guest room behind her, zipping up his pants.

“Ugh, Mike Dutko?” I say. “Again?”

“Well, you know, boys are only good for one thing.” Perla shrugs.

“What’s that?” Sid says as he kind of sneaks up behind us, trying to join our conversation.

Sid’s the only guy at the party who hasn’t been hooking up.

“Bonehead,” Perla says. Sid ignores her.

Then she kind of looks him up and down, like she isn’t seeing anything worth her time. But she can’t help it, I notice; her eyes linger a second too long on his crotch.

Mike Dutko comes over to join us again. He’s brought Perla a drink. He can’t get enough of her. He slips his hand around her waist, and she smiles and leads him back into the guest room. Perla’s not against going back for seconds.

“What an idiot,” I say.

“Do you mean Mike Dutko?” Sid asks. “Or me?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “Both of you. And Perla.”

Sid laughs.

“I bet the L.A. Zoo is pretty cool as far as internships go,” Sid says. “I wish I had the time to do an internship.”

“It’s not brain surgery,” I say. “You could do it.”

“I don’t have the time. I’m on scholarship. I have an after-school job.”

“Oh, yeah,” I say. Sid is a receptionist at a hair salon. At least he gives discounts. And his hair always looks good.

“Do you get to see the condors?”

“No. No one gets to see the condors.”

“That’s a bummer. Once a couple of years ago, my parents and I were camping, and we saw a condor. I knew it was a condor ’cause my dad had a field guide to birds ’cause he likes to bird watch.”

I don’t say anything. I just watch as Kenji’s eyes zoom in on the two of us. He’s smooth-talking some girls on the other side of the room.

I can smooth-talk too. I lean in close to Sid, hoping Kenji will notice. I want him to feel as jealous as I do.

“Oh, we have to do like a field guide,” I say. “Like observe the animals every minute. Take notes on their behavior. We can tell how the animals are doing by what they’re doing.”

I know that I am having an effect on Sid, because he licks his lips, and I can see his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallows.

“What language are you two speaking? Geek?” Kenji says. He’s joined us, like I hoped he would.

“No,” Sid says. “Smart.”

Kenji snorts so hard that I think I see beer come out of his nose before he sucks it back in.

“Sid, I gotta ask you. Are you making a move on Libby?” Kenji asks. “I mean, ’cause I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make a move.”

“No,” Sid says. “I’m not making a move.”

He retreats a step and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head.

“’Cause I, for one, would be curious as to what a Sid move would look like.” Kenji laughs.

“Ha, ha,” Sid says.

“Would you dazzle a lady with your weird philosophies? Would you bore her with your encyclopedic musical brain? Or would you just grab her boobs?”

Kenji grabs at my chest.

“Cut it out,” I say, wiggling away.

“I think I’ll go and change the music,” Sid says.

“You go do that,” Kenji says. “Just don’t put your fucking band demo on. It’s not rock enough. It’s like girly-boy music.”

Kenji gropes me and starts kissing my neck.

“I just got an idea for a new song,” Sid says. “It’s called ‘A Mountain of Asshole Stands Before Me in B-flat.’”

“Better run along and write it down then,” Kenji says.