Princess Angelica, Part-time Lion Trainer

by Monique Polak

  Text copyright © 2019 Monique Polak

  Illustrations copyright © 2019 Jane Heinrichs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Polak, Monique, author

  Princess Angelica, part-time lion trainer / Monique Polak; illustrated by Jane Heinrichs.

  (Orca echoes)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-1547-6 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1548-3 (PDF).— ISBN 978-1-4598-1549-0 (EPUB)

  I. Heinrichs, Jane, 1982–, illustrator II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes

  PS8631.O43P76 2019 jC813'.6 C2018-904869-7

  C2018-904870-0

  Simultaneously published in Canada and the United States in 2019

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018954077

  Summary: In this illustrated early chapter book, Angelica allows a new friend to believe she is a part-time lion trainer.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Edited by Liz Kemp

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Jane Heinrichs

  Author photo by John Fredericks

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  orcabook.com

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  22 21 20 19 • 4 3 2 1

  Orca Book Publishers is proud of the hard work our authors do and of the important stories they create. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or did not check it out from a library provider, then the author has not received royalties for this book. The ebook you are reading is licensed for single use only and may not be copied, printed, resold or given away. If you are interested in using this book in a classroom setting, we have digital subscriptions that feature multi user, simultaneous access to our books that are easy for your students to read. For more information, please contact digital@orcabook.com.

  http://ivaluecanadianstories.ca/

  For my pal Jonah Kinsella, who loves to read

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  An Excerpt from “Princess Angelica, Camp Catastrophe”

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  “Where’s Mwezi? Do you think she escaped?” Joon asks.

  Joon and I are standing outside the giant enclosure at the animal rescue center where Mwezi lives.

  I scan the grass and the small hill at the back of the enclosure. I spot a golden, tasseled tail under a low bush. A tassel is like a messy knot. Lions are the only cats with tasseled tails. “There she is,” I tell Joon, pointing to the bush.

  The tail thumps.

  “I think she recognizes your voice,” Joon says.

  “And also my smell. I’ve known Mwezi longer than I’ve known you,” I tell Joon.

  Joon and I met at sleepaway camp. When I told her and the girls in our bunk that I was a princess, they believed me. Things got complicated when they learned I wasn’t really royalty. Luckily, they forgave me. It helped that my storytelling got us out of a sticky situation.

  I’ve known Mwezi all my life. I’ve even helped feed her. My parents are on the board of directors for the animal rescue center. I’ve been coming here since I was a baby in a Snugli.

  Mwezi came to live at the center because one of her hind legs doesn’t work right. The injury happened years ago when Mwezi lived in Tanzania, and her leg got caught in a wire snare trap. At the time, Ms. Jessup, who is now the director of the center, was in Africa learning how to help injured lions. Ms. Jessup is a certified big-cat keeper. When she returned to Canada, she brought Mwezi with her.

  These days Mwezi spends most of her time napping, which is normal for a lion. When it’s hot outside, like it is today, she finds herself a shady spot and settles in.

  “I wish there was some way to make her come over to see us,” Joon says.

  “I know a trick to get Mwezi’s attention,” I tell Joon. Lions can hear noises from a mile away. So I blow hard on the bars on the outside of Mwezi’s enclosure. In the distance I see Mwezi’s golden ears turn in our direction.

  Then Mwezi gets up from her spot and comes bounding over to us.

  “Wow!” Joon says when Mwezi rubs her cheek against the bars.

  “You could get a job as a lion tamer,” Joon says. “You could wear a sparkly tuxedo.”

  “Sparkly clothes are not my style,” I tell Joon. “And I’d never want to be a lion tamer. But I would like to be a lion trainer or a big-cat keeper like Ms. Jessup.”

  “I have never heard of either of those jobs before,” Joon says.

  “People don’t use the term lion tamer much anymore. Lion trainers don’t just teach lions to do tricks, they teach people how to treat lions. Big-cat keepers like Ms. Jessup educate the public too. They also protect lions and tigers in captivity.”

  When Mwezi opens her mouth, Joon jumps several feet back. Now Mwezi roars.

  Lionesses do not roar as loudly as lions do, but Mwezi’s roar is loud enough that the porcupine in the next enclosure scuttles off to the rocky crevice where he lives.

  I can’t help thinking that Mwezi is agreeing with what I just told Joon. Mwezi does not want to be tamed. But I don’t think she minds being trained. I also think she’d like people to learn more about lions.

  Joon and I brought sandwiches for lunch. Our parents gave us money to buy ice cream in the cafeteria.

  The cafeteria is in the main building where the offices are. On our way in, we see Ms. Jessup. “Why, Angelica!” she says. “It’s lovely to see you here today.”

  I feel proud that someone as important as Ms. Jessup knows my name.

  I introduce Joon.

  “I really like your animal rescue center,” Joon tells Ms. Jessup. “But your cafeteria needs to have more flavors of ice cream. A lot of people think vanilla is boring.”

  “Thanks for your suggestion, Joon,” Ms. Jessup says. She turns back to me. “Angelica, I’m setting up the conference room for a meeting. If you don’t mind, could you carry in a chair for me?”

  “It would be an honor,” I tell her.

  Ms. Jessup points to a wooden chair in the hallway and to the conference room down the hall. The chair is not heavy. I pick it up and head down the hall. Joon is giving Ms. Jessup more suggestions. Joon thinks the main building needs air-conditioning.

  A boy wearing a gray baseball cap is walking toward me. He looks like he is about my age.

  The boy eyes the chair I am carrying. “Hey,” he says to me, “are you a lion trainer?”

  “Uh…” I am about to say no. Maybe the boy has mistaken me for a lion trainer because of the chair I am carrying. He has probably seen pictures of old-fashioned circuses, where lion tamers waved chairs in front of lions.

  “I’m doing research about kids with unusual jobs,” the boy says. “It’s for my school newspaper.”

  “But school doesn’t start for another month,” I say.

  “I’m writing my article in advan
ce. It’s for the first edition,” he says.

  I could explain the difference between tamers, trainers and big-cat keepers.

  I could tell the boy he has made a mistake.

  But I don’t.

  Instead I say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jelly, the new part-time lion trainer. I’d be happy to answer your questions.”

  Chapter Two

  The boy’s name is Leopold. He just moved to the neighborhood, and he lives close enough to the animal rescue center that he can walk over by himself. Leopold wants me to show him the way to the cafeteria.

  Leopold has many questions about lions. Luckily, I have most of the answers. After all, I’m a part-time lion trainer, aren’t I?

  Leopold opens his notebook and takes out his pen. “Why doesn’t Mwezi have a mane?” he asks.

  “Because she’s a lioness. Only male lions have manes.”

  “How much does Mwezi weigh?” Leopold wants to know.

  “About four hundred pounds. A male lion weighs closer to five hundred pounds.”

  “What kind of tricks have you trained Mwezi to do?”

  “All kinds!”

  Joon waves when she sees us. Leopold follows me to the table where Joon is sitting.

  I wink at Joon, trying to signal her that if Leopold mentions lion training, she should play along. But Joon does not understand my signal. “Is something wrong with your eye, Jelly?” she asks.

  I shake my head hard.

  Joon still doesn’t get it.

  “Joon,” I say, “this is Leopold. Leopold, this is my friend Joon. We were bunkmates at sleepaway camp. Joon likes my stories.” I shoot her a sharp look when I say the word stories.

  “Oh, Jelly tells the best stories. At camp she told us she was a pr—”

  I am about to raise my palm in the air to stop Joon, but I don’t need to. That’s because Leopold interrupts her. “A part-time lion trainer must have a lot of great stories,” he says.

  “Part-time lion trainer?” Joon says. Thank goodness she does not laugh.

  “That’s right,” I say quickly. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet, Joon. But Ms. Jessup offered me this great job. It’s for the rest of the summer, and then once school starts, I'll be working on Saturday mornings.”

  I hope Joon won’t spoil my fun.

  “Congratulations!” she says.

  That’s when I realize Joon believes my story too.

  I tell Joon that Leopold is writing a story about kids with unusual jobs for his school newspaper, and that he wants to interview me.

  But Joon is more interested in the turkey sandwich Leopold has brought for lunch. She’s impressed that there are slices of avocado in the sandwich. “Turkey and avocado go well together,” she notes.

  “Joon loves talking about food,” I tell Leopold.

  “Jelly loves talking about lions,” Joon says.

  Leopold takes a bite of his sandwich. “So what sorts of tricks have you been teaching Mwezi?” he asks.

  “Have you heard of horse whisperers?” Joon asks Leopold. “They are people with a gift for communicating with horses. Jelly is a lion whisperer. When she blows on the bars of Mwezi’s enclosure, Mwezi comes over and rubs her cheek against the bars.”

  “That’s not all,” I say. “Joon hasn’t seen half of the tricks I’ve taught Mwezi.”

  “I haven’t?” Joon says.

  I get the tingly feeling that comes when I start inventing a story. “I can get Mwezi to lie on her back so I can scratch her tummy,” I tell them.

  “Wow!” Joon says.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Leopold asks.

  “It could be if someone else tried it,” I say. “Besides, that’s what the chair is for. I keep it handy when I’m inside the enclosure. If I thought Mwezi might be about to attack me—not to worry, because that has never happened—I’d hold the chair between us, and Mwezi would attack the chair instead. That’s why in old-fashioned circuses, the lion trainer always carried a chair—and a whip.”

  Leopold looks under the table. “Do you have a whip?”

  “No way,” I tell him. “I believe in positive reinforcement training.”

  Leopold wipes the bread crumbs from his chin and opens his notebook to a fresh page. “That’s a lot of big words. What do they mean?”

  Our next-door neighbor has a dog, so I know all about positive reinforcement training. “It means that instead of punishing bad behavior, the dog tr—the lion trainer rewards positive behavior. So when Mwezi lets me scratch her tummy, I give her one of these.” I fish a meatball out of my lunch bag. My mom made me a meatball sub for lunch, but I couldn’t finish all of it. “Mwezi loves meatballs.”

  “With or without tomato sauce?” Joon asks.

  “Without.”

  Now, because I am really getting into my story, I come up with even more tricks to tell Leopold and Joon about. “I’ve trained Mwezi to give me a paw. I’ve trained her to jump through a hoop. For two meatballs, Mwezi even lets me ride on her back.”

  Joon’s jaw falls open.

  Leopold has another question. “Have you ever put your head in Mwezi’s mouth?”

  “Of course!” I say. “In fact, I do it all the time!”

  Chapter Three

  Leopold and Joon want to see me put my head in Mwezi’s mouth.

  “It isn’t the best day for it,” I tell them. “Mwezi has a toothache.”

  “I didn’t know lions could get toothaches,” Joon says.

  Leopold watches my face. “Are you sure that isn’t an excuse?” he asks.

  “Of course it’s not an excuse! Putting my head in Mwezi’s mouth is one of my favorite tricks. Did you know that when a lion opens its mouth, the space inside is bigger than the length of a human head? That’s why old-fashioned lion tamers invented the trick in the first place.”

  I try to distract Leopold with lion facts. Maybe then he’ll stop asking me to show him the trick. “Did you know that a lion’s back teeth are called carnassials?”

  “You use a lot of big words,” Leopold says. “How many s’s are there in carnassials?”

  “Three s’s, including the one at the end,” I tell him.

  “Jelly always uses big words when she talks about lions,” Joon chimes in.

  “Carnassials work like scissors,” I add. “They are the teeth that help lions chew meat. Did you know that lions’ claws are retractable?” I’ll have to explain that word too. “All cats, even house cats, have retractable claws. Retractable means a cat or a lion can pull in his claws and extend them when he needs to. Retractable claws prevent injury when cats or lions are playing. I bet you didn’t know that lions love to play. Most animals do.”

  “I love to play,” Joon says.

  Leopold drums his fingers on the cafeteria table. “So are you going to show us how you put your head in Mwezi’s mouth or not?”

  My lion facts are not enough to distract Leopold. Lions use their claws when they have to. I tell stories when I need to. I lean back in my chair. “Did I ever tell you about the time I lived in Africa?” I ask Joon and Leopold.

  “You never told me!” Joon says.

  “You only met me an hour ago, so when exactly would you have told me?” Leopold asks.

  I ignore Leopold’s question. Besides, I can feel a new story taking shape in my brain. “My parents and I lived in northern Tanzania, near the Serengeti Plain.” I know about the Serengeti because I’ve read about it in books and heard Ms. Jessup talk about it. “That was when I first got interested in lions. We saw them all the time.” When I look outside, I spot a pigeon on the windowsill. “Lions on the Serengeti Plain—they’re like pigeons in Canada. You see them everywhere all the time!”

  “I see pigeons so often I don’t even notice them,” Joon says.

  “I always noticed lions when we lived in Africa,” I tell her.

  Leopold clicks on his pen. “Why did you move to Africa in the first place?” he asks.

  “Becaus
e…well…” I decide to work some truth into my story. It’s a trick that has worked for me before. “Because my parents are lawyers. Mostly they handle human rights cases, but we moved to Africa so they could fight for lions’ rights. In Africa, poachers hunt lions so they can sell their teeth, skins and claws. My parents took poachers to court. Because we lived so close to the Serengeti, I made friends with many of the lions my parents helped save. Including Mwezi.”

  “You never told me that!” Joon says.

  “Mwezi’s hind leg was caught in a poacher’s wire snare trap. My dad was driving the Jeep and I was looking out the window with my binoculars when I spotted her. Poor Mwezi.” My voice gets sad. After all, the part of the story about Mwezi’s leg getting caught in the trap is true. I may not have been there to see it, but I’ve certainly imagined it.

  “Are you the one who got her out of the trap?” Joon asks. She knows I like fixing stuff.

  “Of course!” I can feel my story starting to speed up. My voice speeds up too. “My dad used a dart gun to tranquilize Mwezi. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her leg loose. There was no wire cutter in the Jeep. But I remembered that my mom kept her fingernail clippers in the glove compartment. So I used them!”

  “Wow!” Joon says. “You’re amazing, Jelly.”

  I throw back my shoulders. I feel as proud as if I really did free Mwezi from that trap.

  Leopold rolls his eyes. “Fingernail clippers?” he says. “If you saved her, why did she have to come to an animal rescue center?”

  I am good at answering tough questions. Besides, I know another lion fact that is about to come in handy.

  “Did you know that lionesses can run at a speed of up to fifty miles an hour? After Mwezi recovered, we timed her, and she could only run ten miles an hour. That’s not fast enough for a lioness to survive on the Serengeti Plain. Thank goodness my parents knew Ms. Jessup. She found an enclosure for Mwezi here.”

  Chapter Four

  Leopold and Joon want to hear more stories about Mwezi.