Zoobreak (2 page)

Not a word. Not a thought. Not even a doodle.

It was worse than Cleopatra’s disappearance — and not just because Ben wasn’t a
monkey. Cleo was already gone. It was too bad, but at least the damage was done. Ben, on the other hand, was
going
. And Griffin still couldn’t find a way to stop it.

It was enough to drive a guy crazy. In his eleven years, Griffin Bing had devised countless plans, some big, some small. One of them had even managed to rescue a million-dollar baseball card. How could he come up empty now of all times, when his best friend hung in the balance? How could The Man With The Plan draw a blank on the most important plan of his life?

Unhappy and frustrated, he looked around the classroom. He found his gloom reflected in Ben’s expression. His friend was gazing out the window, his head already in New Jersey at the academy he didn’t want to attend.

Then there was Savannah, in a state of sustained outrage that the police would not accept the banana as evidence of a kidnapping. She had pulled down sixty
LOST
posters and replaced them with
ABDUCTED
ones. The stress and sleepless nights were taking their toll.

But Savannah wasn’t the only classmate in a blue funk these days. Antonia Benson — who went by her rock-climbing nickname,
Pitch — was bummed because her family’s trip to Devils Tower had been canceled. Mr. Benson had dropped a bowling ball on his foot, and it was too swollen to cram into a hiking boot.

Child actor Logan Kellerman was depressed because his only line had been cut from the orange juice commercial he’d finally managed to get a part in.

It was impossible to read the expression on the face of computer whiz Melissa Dukakis. The shy girl lived behind a curtain of long, stringy hair. But it was a sure thing she was frowning in there somewhere. Everyone knew she had suffered a catastrophic system meltdown. It had blacked out three blocks of the Cedarville power grid.

We’re not a class
, Griffin thought morosely.
We’re an undertakers’ convention
.

Was anyone in this whole school in a good mood?

Suddenly, the door flew open. “Hey, everybody!” announced a loud, brash voice. “Isn’t it a great day?”

Linebacker-sized Darren Vader didn’t just enter a room — he exploded into it, rattling windows and pens and sending loose paper wafting in all directions.

“I suppose it is for you, Darren.” Mr. Martinez sighed. “I hope you have a good reason for being four hours late.”

With a flourish, Darren presented his note. “Sailing lessons, Mr. M. My dad took me out on Long Island Sound.”

Mr. Martinez was not impressed with this excuse. “During school hours?” he asked.

Darren shrugged. “It’s too crowded on the weekends. My dad says I’ve got America’s Cup potential. I need plenty of space to let it all hang out.” He walked to his seat, elbowing Griffin as he passed. “How’s it going, bushel-boy?”

Griffin saw red. “You’re not allowed to talk about that!” he hissed.

Griffin’s father was the creator of the SmartPick™, a high-tech fruit-picking tool. Now Mr. Bing was working on a new invention, the Rollo-Bushel. It was a two-wheeled motorized scooter with a SmartPick™ dock and a bushel basket. The whole project was supposed to be top secret.

Darren took the seat beside Griffin and leaned over to whisper, “Wait a minute, NASCAR fans — what’s that in the pole position? It’s Jeff Gordon on a Rollo-Bushel! It only goes twelve miles an hour, but
when the race is over, he can sell apples at trackside!”

Griffin swiveled in his seat. “Not another word, Vader! Just because your mom is our patent lawyer —”

“Touchy, touchy, picker-man.”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Martinez exclaimed. “Griffin and Darren, if you can’t behave yourselves, you will
not
be joining us on the field trip to
All Aboard Animals
next week.”

Savannah perked up a little. “You mean the floating zoo?”

The teacher nodded. “They’re docking at the Rutherford Point Preserve, and school groups are invited to visit.” He turned back to Griffin and Darren. “But if you two can’t control yourselves, you will not be included.”

Darren puffed a stream of hot air through a hollowed-out pen at the back of Griffin’s neck.

Griffin hunkered down and concentrated his attention on the plan.

T
he Rutherford Point Preserve was located on a neck of land on the North Shore of Long Island. Back in the 1800s, it had been a waterfront estate belonging to multimillionaire oil tycoon Beaumont Rutherford. He had bequeathed the property to the state of New York to use as a park.

The place’s history as a rich man’s hideaway was very much in evidence as the Cedarville school bus circled the twenty-five-foot-high wrought-iron fence and entered through the towering front gate.

Even Darren was impressed. “Whoa! I’m going to get myself a place like this when I get rich and leave you losers in the dust!”

Mr. Martinez laughed tolerantly. “You’d better start saving now, Darren. Remember
why the Rutherford family had to give it away. Even
they
couldn’t afford to pay the taxes.”

Darren shrugged. “So I’ll invent the Dumb-Pick or something like that. How hard can it be?”

Griffin was about to whack Darren with his lunch bag when he noticed that Ben had dozed off in the seat beside him. The timing of this field trip had thrown off his friend’s corrective nap schedule.

“Wake up, man!” Griffin hissed, with a sharp elbow to Ben’s ribs.

Ben’s head bobbled upright. “I’m awake!” He peered out the window. “Wow, look at this place!”

The main house was a gray stone castle, complete with turrets and towering balconies.

Melissa peered through her hair curtain. “Is that the zoo?”

“Nice crib!” Darren exclaimed. “I wish
I
was an animal!”

“You are,” Griffin pointed out. “A pig.”

“That’s not fair,” Savannah protested. “Pigs are highly intelligent, sensitive creatures.”

“All Aboard Animals
is a
floating
zoo,” Mr. Martinez reminded them. “Look, everybody —”

The bus crested a rise, and the gleaming waters of Long Island Sound stretched out before them. Moored at the wooden wharf was a large boat that resembled a Mississippi River steamer, long and rectangular, with a paddle wheel at the stern.

The bus parked behind two others, and Mr. Martinez led his students down the path onto the dock. As they waited for the class ahead of them to file down the gangway, Griffin noted that the paddle-wheel steamer didn’t look quite as spiffy as it had from a distance. The paint that wasn’t peeling was considerably faded. And close up they could see that the pictures of jungle cats, elephants, and giraffes on the hull were merely decals.

Savannah was frowning. “No way is there a giraffe on this ship. Even a baby would have its head sticking right through the roof. And an elephant? It would probably break through the deck.”

Finally, it was their turn to go aboard. The first thing Griffin noticed as he stepped inside the hatch was an overpowering foul smell. Heads retreated into shoulders; fingers came up to hold noses.

As usual, Darren was the first to find his very nasal voice. “Ugh! What hit this place — a stink bomb the size of California?”

Only Savannah was unaffected. “What a bunch of babies. Animals have a smell, just like people do. We just don’t notice our own. But,” she added disapprovingly, “it’s possible that the cages aren’t being cleaned as often as they should be.”

The interior of the paddleboat was cramped, airless, and badly lit. They were greeted by Mr. Nastase, the manager. He was a tall, cadaverous man in a hand-tailored suit with shirt cuffs that set off his impeccable manicure. Even his haircut looked expensive.

“Welcome to
All Aboard Animals
,” he intoned. “You stand on the threshold of an incredible adventure….” His speech was dramatic, but it was obvious he’d given it ten thousand times, and it bored him mightily.

Savannah couldn’t hold back her curiosity. She waved her hand right under his pointed nose, but he ignored her, studiously focusing on a rivet in the bulkhead behind the class. Finally, she blurted out, “Mr. Nastase, exactly what kind of animals do you have here?”

“I’m glad you asked me that,” the zookeeper deadpanned, smoothing down a thin mustache that was shaped like the apex of the Great Pyramid and looking anything but glad. “You will see animals that will astound you, animals from the four corners of the earth….” He droned on for some time about what they were going to see. When it was over, he still hadn’t mentioned a single animal.

Even Mr. Martinez was becoming impatient with the man. “How about a little hint?” he asked.

Mr. Nastase drew himself up to a tall, gaunt height. “I will not spoil your voyage of discovery.” He disappeared into a small cabin marked
OFFICE.

The class followed Mr. Martinez through a low hatch and gathered around the first exhibit. There, a dim bulb cast a yellowish glow into a small mesh cage. Inside cowered a beady-eyed furry creature that would have fit in the palm of any of their hands.

“A chipmunk?” Pitch exclaimed in disbelief. “I almost stepped on one of these on the way to school this morning! This is from the four corners of my yard, not the four corners of the
earth
.”

Savannah shushed her sharply. “Animals may not speak our language, but they can sense if you don’t respect them. He has feelings, you know.”

“This is only the first exhibit,” soothed Mr. Martinez. “I’m sure they have more exciting things to show us. Let’s reserve judgment until we’ve seen the entire collection.”

They continued their tour of the paddle-wheel steamer and its caged exhibits. The closer they got to the heart of the ship, the more the smells and the stale air intensified.

There were some interesting animals — a meerkat, a prairie dog, a chuckwalla, and a great horned owl, which opened one big yellow eye and looked baleful at their interruption. But they all seemed undersized and listless. And the rest of the collection was incredibly ordinary, an assortment of hamsters, frogs, garter snakes, turtles, mice, and a ferret that was either very young or just plain puny. A sickly chicken marched nervously around a cage marked
FARM ANIMALS,
next door to a skin-and-bones piglet.

The class wandered among the displays in stunned silence.

Ben tapped Griffin on the shoulder. “Is it just me, or is this place really, really lame?”

“This place would have to rise up five hundred percent to improve to lame,” Griffin agreed. “Look at Mr. Martinez. I don’t think he’s too thrilled.”

“Never mind him,” said Ben. “Check out Savannah.”

Savannah Drysdale was so outraged that she actually radiated heat. She darted from cage to cage, and each new discovery twisted her face further out of shape.

“This habitat hasn’t been cleaned in days!” she seethed. “The water is dirty and brackish! The ferret cage is half the size it should be! How can a growing baby develop muscle tone without room enough to turn around? The meerkat and chuckwalla need extra heat! The loon barely has a feather left! The beaver is high and dry!”

Griffin stepped in front of her. “Savannah — take a breath —”

“I’m not going to breathe!” she insisted. “None of the animals can breathe in this torture chamber! Why should
we
breathe?”

At that moment, Mr. Nastase appeared
beside the owl enclosure. “Is there a problem?”

“This whole place is a problem!” Savannah couldn’t hold herself back — she was genuinely fuming. “It’s too dark; it’s not properly ventilated; the animals are neglected, undernourished —”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, young lady,” the zookeeper said stiffly, his deep frown forming the lines of his mustache into an arrowhead. “Perhaps you’ll be happier with our newest addition, our pride and joy.” He led the group through a hatch to a smaller cabin, which held a single cage.

Griffin could already hear the sound of wild scrambling from within that enclosure, followed by excited animal chatter.

The scream that came from Savannah was barely human.

“
C
leo!!
”

Savannah bounded across the cabin and pressed her face against the mesh of the cage. The capuchin monkey nuzzled up to her, screeching wildly.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here.” She wheeled on the zookeeper, eyes shooting sparks. “What are you doing with my monkey?”

His mustache was nearly two vertical lines. “There must be a misunderstanding. Eleanor is our latest attraction at
All Aboard Animals
.”

“She’s not Eleanor, she’s Cleopatra! And she’s
mine
!”

“My dear —”

“I’m not your dear! You stole my monkey!”

Mr. Martinez stepped between them. “What’s going on here? Savannah — you had a monkey?”

“She even got a traffic ticket,” Ben put in helpfully.

“I
still
have her!” Savannah insisted. “She’s right here! Can’t you see how she responds to me?”

“Capuchins are excitable,” Mr. Nastase lectured. “Of course Eleanor became agitated when you pressed so close to the cage. You were invading her space. You obviously have a lot to learn about animals.”

A gasp went up from the class. At age eleven, Savannah knew more about animals than most zoology professors did.

She turned anxiously to her teacher. “Mr. Martinez, aren’t you going to help me? This floating dungeon has no right to keep Cleopatra! She’s mine!”

Mr. Martinez looked profoundly disturbed. “Are you absolutely sure of this?”

“Yes! A hundred percent!”

“That’s not possible,” Mr. Nastase said confidently. “Eleanor has been with us for months. We have the paperwork — a bill of sale — to prove it. All capuchins look alike, and there are no distinguishing marks or
physical abnormalities on Eleanor. I sympathize that you seem to have lost your own monkey, dear girl, but she is not our Eleanor.”

“Not true!” Savannah stormed. “You stole Cleo right out of my yard!”