Zoe in Wonderland (2 page)

A Very Tall Man

I
t was a Saturday and the rain was starting and stopping, coming and going, like someone was up there in the clouds playing with a switch, turning it off and on, on and off. The sun was playing hide-and-seek too, every now and then shining a little light through the clouds before quickly disappearing again.

My mom had just left to pick up my sister, Jade-queen-bee-of-the-house, from cheerleading practice and to drop off my brother, Harper-science-geek-genius, at his museum class. I was inside the nursery, doing my regular Saturday jobs: watering the plants, pruning away dead leaves, spraying the orchids with purified water. After that, I usually organize the bulbs and make certain all
of the seed packets are in their right places and lined right side up. Then I head to the greenhouse, my favorite quiet place, especially when it rains.

Grandpa Reindeer was there because Daddy was heading out to the desert and he needed someone to be at the register.

“I know how to work the register,” I'd told my daddy. “Can I, please, please, please?”

But he'd responded the way he always does. “No, Zoe, you're only eleven.”

Only eleven. I was getting tired of being only eleven. “When I'm twelve, can I do it?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

Daddy climbed into his beat-up white truck. “Thanks for helping me out, Pops,” he told Grandpa.

He was going to buy two rare endangered plants, one called a baseball plant and the other one called an old woman cactus. For the past week, it's all he's talked about. The way some people are concerned about endangered animals, my daddy is concerned about endangered plants.

“I should be back by five. I doubt we'll have many customers in this weather. And keep an eye on Zoe.”

Grandpa glanced my way and winked.

Keep an eye on me? I really don't need anyone to keep an eye on me, I thought. Besides, only chameleons
and other weird things can keep one eye on anything. Humans are on the two-eye system. Where one eye goes, the other follows.

I waved at Daddy, but I suppose he didn't see me. His truck wheels rolled over puddles, making tracks in the muddy gravel, and he was gone.

Not long after Grandpa sat down, he nodded off, the way he has a habit of doing. I was at the sink, filling the watering can, staring at the register, when suddenly—

Zoe was the Saturday boss of the Wonderland. She liked being in charge. She popped open the register and counted the money. She wrote down the total. Then she jotted down ideas for increasing sales. She'd show the list to her daddy when he got back and he'd give her a raise. She certainly deserved one. How much? Zoe wondered.

When the bell that chimes whenever someone opens the nursery door went
ding-dong
, I blinked. The watering can I was holding was overflowing with water. Quickly, I turned off the faucet.

The man standing in the doorway was so tall, he had to duck to get inside. My eyes started at his red-and-white two-toned shoes, and by the time they reached
his smiling lips, my head was cranked all the way back, resting on my shoulders. He was that tall.

His skin was dark brown and his teeth gleamed like they'd been painted glossy white. His raincoat was gray, his pants pale yellow, and his black cap had the letters
JPL
on it.

Grandpa woke up, yawned, and stumbled to his feet. “Can I help you?” he asked the man.

The man turned his head slowly, scanning the room. “I was passing by and wondered if you have a tree I've been looking for but haven't been able to find. It's something quite unusual for these parts.”

The man spoke with an accent I didn't recognize. It wasn't Spanish, maybe French—but if you want to know the truth, except for movies, I haven't heard many French people talk.

Grandpa turned on the computer at the end of the counter. “If you tell me the name, I can check our inventory and see if we have it. We have a boatload of unusual things here. That's why it's called a Wonderland.”

“I'm searching for a baobab tree,” he said.

“Baobab tree?” Grandpa repeated.

“
B-A-O-B-A-B
,” the tall man spelled it out.

Grandpa Reindeer typed in the letters, but nothing came up. “I don't think we have any.” He typed it
in again. “Nope . . . nothing, sorry. What kind of tree is it?”

“It's a tree that grows in my country, Madagascar.”

I glanced up at his face. His lips were almost as dark as his skin. I'm usually too shy to talk to strangers, but I had to ask, so I said, “You're all the way from . . .” Suddenly my shyness got stronger than my curiosity and my words stopped.

Grandpa looked my way and reminded me, the way he and Nana have since I was little, “Don't be bashful, Zoe.”

I started over. “You're all the way from Madagascar?”

“Yes,” the man replied.

“Wow. I've imagined myself there before,” I told him.

“Imagined yourself?” he asked.

I nodded and glanced at Grandpa. His smile encouraged me to keep talking. “When I was a little kid, I saw that movie called
Madagascar
probably four times, plus last year for geography our teacher showed us a video, so it was pretty easy to imagine myself there.”

The tall man raised one eyebrow and grinned at me.

“It looked like a beautiful place, plus it has some animals and plants that can't be found anywhere else on Earth. That's what the video said,” I informed him.

“It is beautiful,” the man agreed.

“B-A-O-B-A-B.” Grandpa wrote it on a slip of paper. “Well, I've never heard of it, but I'm sure my son has. He's got what I call a wealth of knowledge.”

The tall man said, “It's also called ‘the tree of life.' They can live for thousands of years. Or maybe it's listed under another name? Try ‘monkey bread tree.'”

I laughed.

Grandpa typed in
monkey bread tree
. “Sorry, no monkey bread tree, but there is something called a monkey cup plant. It says it's an insect eater.”

“I'll try somewhere else,” the man replied, then turned to leave.

“Sorry to say this, Mister, but if it's unique and it grows and you can't find it here, you're probably not going to find it anywhere close by. I'm not trying to brag, but we've got some very weird stuff, even Venus flytraps and cobra lilies and . . .”

The very tall man laughed loudly, opening his mouth so wide, I could see his pink tonsils. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

Grandpa eyed the cap and asked him, “You work over at JPL?”

“Yes. For almost twenty years.”

“What's JPL?” I asked.

Grandpa answered, “Jet Propulsion Lab up the road, other side of Altadena. Place that sends probes and
instruments out into space, studies planets . . . among other things.”

“That's right,” the tall man agreed. “I'm an astronomer.”

My curiosity wouldn't give up. “An astronomer? So you know a lot of stuff about outer space?” I asked.

He looked my way, pointed up to the sky, and answered, “Yes, we imagine ourselves up there. Having a community open house next month, if anyone might be interested.” His eyes stared into mine. “The information is all online . . . young people sure seem to enjoy it.”

The astronomer smiled again, and as he opened the door to leave, the chime sounded and the sun suddenly burst out of its hiding place. “The star of day finally returns,” he said.

The star of day? I'd never heard the sun called that before.

“I'll leave a message for my son about the baobab. Is there some way he can get in touch with you?” Grandpa asked.

“I'll stop by again. It's on my way,” the tall man answered.

I went to the door, but with legs as long as his, legs like stilts, he'd already made it to his car and was climbing inside. There was a peace sign decal on the
back window, and when he started his car, the tailpipe sputtered and smoked.

“Rather odd fellow,” Grandpa commented.

I squinted at the sun—the star of day. “I like him,” I said.

And just as the tall man zoomed off, Mom drove up.

Just Zoe

M
y sister, Jade, was in the passenger seat, and a girl I'd never seen before was sitting in the back— probably a new princess friend of Jade's or maybe another queen bee. I keep wondering how Jade does it, collecting friends the way I used to collect Barbie dolls. Nana Reindeer calls it “Jade's gift.”

Jade is fifteen, tall and kind of skinny except for her butt, which is sort of big, but she's always doing exercises trying to make it bigger. She has brown hair and huge dark eyes. Even without mascara, her lashes are so long that I sometimes wonder how she keeps her eyes open. Any girl who wants to avoid attention should try
having Jade Reindeer for a sister. With Jade in a room, most other girls disappear, especially me.

Jade's friend climbed out of the car, her eyes darting around the Wonderland. Jade looked embarrassed, because unlike me, she hates living here and is constantly begging to move somewhere normal.

Jade frowned. “Welcome to the Weirdland,” she muttered.

“It's not called the Weirdland . . . It's called the Wonderland,” I told her.

Jade sneered at me. “Whatever . . . plant girl.”

Jade thinks it hurts my feelings when she calls me that, but it doesn't. I love taking care of the plants and watching them grow. As far as I'm concerned, I could live in the Wonderland forever and ever and ever.

The new-Jade-friend looked me over and asked, “Who are you?”

Jade gave me a snide sideways glance and answered, “Her? . . . Oh, that's
just Zoe
.”

Just Zoe?

“Your little sister?” the girl inquired.

“Yeah,
just Zoe
.”

Pink gloss on the girl's lips glistened. She smiled and said, “Hey, Zoe, I'm Torrey.”

Unlike Jade's usual friends, who mostly treat me
like I'm invisible, she seemed nice. “Hey, Torrey,” I replied.

Mom interrupted. “Zoe, help me with these groceries.”

I frowned. “Me? What about Jade?”

Jade smirked and headed toward the house. “Have to study.”

“I can help you, Mrs. Reindeer,” Torrey offered. Right then, I knew Torrey was a princess and not a queen bee. Sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference, but one thing you can be certain of is this: queen bees never volunteer to help.

“That's okay, Torrey. There's not that much. You two go study.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right, Mom. News alert—Jade never studies.”

“Stop it, Zoe,” Mom whispered.

“But I still have work to do in the nursery,” I whined.

Mom gave me the stop-whining-and-do-what-I-say look.

And so, I helped bring the groceries in the house.

I'd just grabbed the last bag and was lifting it to the kitchen counter when the paper handle broke.

Mom said, “Tell me that's not the bag with the eggs.”

I checked the contents of the bag and spotted the eggs. “Wrong,” I informed her.

“Then at least tell me they're not broken, Zoe.”

I opened the carton of eggs. Most were broken. “Wrong again.”

“Zoe!” Mom snapped, “You have to be more careful!”

“You can't blame me for the handles ripping. It's not my fault. The bags are cheap.”

Mom took a deep breath. “Next time, hold the bag from the bottom, Zoe.”

“It's not my fault,” I repeated.

After I helped put away the groceries and disposed of the broken eggs, I made a beeline to the bathroom. I was heading back to the nursery to finish up my work when I stopped and stared at myself in the hallway's full-length mirror. All of a sudden—

Zoe was wearing a purple vest with silver buttons, a hot-pink miniskirt, black leggings, and ankle boots. Her flat-ironed hair was flawless, and crystal earrings dangled from her ears. Her full lips, painted bright red, had the perfect pout . . .

But Jade appeared from her room, interrupting my fantasy. Torrey was right behind her. Of course,
Jade ignored me, but at least Torrey smiled as they headed for the kitchen. They must have been putting on makeup, because Jade looked even more gorgeous than usual.

The real me stared back from the mirror and wondered if parents only have a certain amount of stuff to pass on to their kids when they're helping to create them. Stuff like beauty. I supposed that because Jade was first, they'd given most of it to her, not knowing I might show up later and need some beauty too. It isn't fair. Jade is exactly right. I'm
just Zoe
.

On the way back to the nursery, I tripped on one of the uneven bricks along the pathway and almost fell. I glared down at my big feet. “Please stop growing!” I pleaded.

“Zoe?” Mom said, startling me. She was standing not far from me, about to get in the car.

“Huh?”

“Are you talking to yourself?” she asked.

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at me, the way she does when she thinks one of us is lying.

“I wasn't. I swear.”

“Okay . . . I'm going to the museum. Harper is presenting his science project. Do you want to come?” Mom asked as she climbed into the car.

And sit there listening to boy genius rattle on about his gadgets? I don't think so. “No, I promised Daddy,” I told her. “Plus I have to take care of the stuff in the greenhouse, and I'm going to the movies with Quincy, remember?”

Mom glanced at her watch, said, “Right. See you later,” and was off again. The gravel was still wet and her wheels made a gritty sound as they turned into the street.

And for the time being, I forgot about the tall man and the baobab trees and the star of day.