Princess Angelica, Part-time Lion Trainer

by Monique Polak

  Ms. Jessup looks from Joon to me, then back at Joon and back at me. “Well then,” Ms. Jessup says, “follow me, Angelica. When big cats like Mwezi get out of their enclosures, it’s important to keep them calm. If what Joon is saying is true, I may be able to use your help with Mwezi. But you need to follow my instructions to the letter at all times.”

  I do not mention to Ms. Jessup what I am thinking, which is that I hope the elderly couple has not met Mwezi. Mwezi may have never attacked a person while she was living in her enclosure, but I know enough about lions to know that once they get back out in the wild, their behavior can change.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Ms. Jessup says, pointing straight ahead when we get outside. At first I think she has spotted Mwezi. But when I look at where she is pointing, I see an elderly couple coming toward us. The man is pushing a wheelchair with a woman in it.

  “We just heard the announcement,” the man calls to Ms. Jessup. “But I don’t know how I’m going to get my wife inside the main building. There is no wheelchair access. All public buildings should have wheelchair access.”

  “I can help!” I call out to the couple.

  “You can?” the woman says. “How wonderful!”

  “What are you going to do?” her husband asks.

  “We…uh…” I usually like to have some time to come up with a solution. But there is no time today. Not if I want to help Ms. Jessup and her team find Mwezi!

  My eyes land on the bench I just fixed. On the grass near the bench is the overturned sign Hilda left there.

  “We can use that piece of plywood for a ramp!”

  The woman in the wheelchair claps. “What’s your name, dear?” she asks me.

  “Angelica,” I tell her. “But you can call me Jelly.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Hurry! Hurry!” the elderly man says as Ms. Jessup and I drag the piece of plywood to the main building. “Code red means the situation is dire!”

  But there is no sign of Mwezi.

  The plywood is not the perfect size, but it will do. I help the man maneuver the wheelchair onto the plywood ramp and into the building.

  The old man and his wife want to shake my hand, but I explain there isn’t time. “I need to help Ms. Jessup find Mwezi,” I tell them.

  “Are you sure that’s safe?” the woman asks.

  “You’re just a child,” her husband says.

  Joon has been listening in on the conversation. “Jelly may be a child. And even if she isn’t the new part-time lion trainer, she is good with lions.”

  “Well, good luck, dear,” the old woman says, blowing me a kiss. “Promise to be careful out there!”

  Ms. Jessup announces that except for the search party, everyone must remain inside the main building. For security reasons, the door must be locked.

  One of the keepers heads east to look for Mwezi. The other keeper heads west. Ms. Jessup and I walk down the main pathway that leads through the middle of the animal property, past Mwezi’s enclosure. She explains that sometimes animals who have escaped will return to their enclosures because that is where they feel most comfortable.

  A snowy owl watches us from a high branch in its enclosure. Perhaps this owl knows where Mwezi went. If only animals could talk!

  Mwezi is not in her enclosure. We look for her in the bushes and in the tall grasses by the marsh. We look for her underneath two stone bridges.

  Ms. Jessup uses her radio to contact the keepers who are searching for Mwezi. But they have no news.

  “I wish I knew what was going on in Mwezi’s head,” Ms. Jessup mutters.

  “We could try imagining to be her,” I say.

  “Imagining being a lion?” Ms. Jessup says. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “When it comes to using your imagination,” I say, “anything is possible. I’ve imagined being a princess and a part-time lion trainer.”

  Though Ms. Jessop nods, I get the feeling her mind is elsewhere.

  So in the same way that I imagined all the tricks I would teach Mwezi if I were a part-time lion trainer, and all the adventures Mwezi and I might have had if we were together on an airplane, I try imagining what it would feel like to be Mwezi.

  If I were Mwezi and I’d been living for many years at an animal rescue center with people peering at me all day long, I think I’d feel excited if I escaped from my enclosure.

  I’d want to explore all the places I could never see from inside my enclosure.

  I think I might also feel afraid. That would make me want to hide.

  And I think that after so many years of having people peer at me, well, I’d want to peer at them!

  So where would I go to explore, hide and watch people?

  I’d want to explore as much of the area as possible. I’d probably head for the fence along the edge of the property and follow the path beside it.

  I would hide in secret places. Or in places where there was camouflage. Places that were yellowish-colored like me.

  I could watch people from the lookout tower.

  The lookout tower is near the fence. I suggest to Ms. Jessup that we go there first. We look for paw prints on the ground, but we don’t see any. When we get to the tower, Mwezi is not there.

  We take the stairs to the top of the tower. That way we’ll get a view of the entire area.

  “What’s yellow at this animal refuge center?” I ask Ms. Jessup as we climb the stairs.

  “Why?” she says.

  “Maybe Mwezi is looking for a place where she will be camouflaged.”

  When we reach the top of tower, we look out in every direction. I spot one of the keepers. Ms. Jessup spots the other. But neither of us spots Mwezi.

  “The only place on the property that’s yellow,” Ms. Jessup says, “is the field of sunflowers.”

  So we head over to the field, but Mwezi is not there either.

  Suddenly, we hear loud honking coming from a car in the parking lot in front of the center. The honking is nonstop.

  Ms. Jessup throws her hands up into the air. “That honking could frighten Mwezi. As I explained before, it’s very important that Mwezi stays calm. We’ve got to get to the parking lot and tell whoever it is to stop!”

  When we reach the parking lot, it’s easy to tell which car the honking is coming from.

  There’s a yellow convertible parked on a hill at the edge of the lot.

  It’s the same shade of yellow as Mwezi’s coat.

  That yellow convertible would be good for exploring, hiding and watching.

  “Look!” I say to Ms. Jessup. I point to the back seat of the convertible.

  Mwezi’s in it!

  And that’s not all. Mwezi is so big that even from the back seat, she can reach the steering wheel. Not only can she reach it, but she can also chew on it! And with every chew, Mwezi hits the horn. Now we know who’s been honking!

  Chapter Nine

  “Thank goodness we’ve found Mwezi!” Ms. Jessup says. “But how are we ever going to get her out of that convertible?”

  “Can I try blowing to get her attention?” I ask Ms. Jessup.

  “Go ahead,” she says.

  But when I try blowing to get Mwezi to come over, she does not budge.

  “We can offer her some food,” Ms. Jessup suggests. “I brought along a frozen mouse. Frozen mice are one of Mwezi’s favorite treats.”

  But Mwezi ignores the frozen mouse.

  “I have something she might like,” I tell Ms. Jessup. I reach into my pocket for the bit of leftover meatball that I have wrapped in a napkin. I wave the piece of meatball at Mwezi, but she still won’t budge.

  Ms. Jessup thinks we should phone the fire department. “I was confident we could handle this emergency on our own, but now I think we may need extra help.”

  “Let me try something first,” I say.

  “What do you have in mind?” Ms. Jessup asks.

  “I want to jack up the convertible,” I say.

  “How will that
help?” Ms. Jessup asks.

  “You’ll see. But first I need a car jack.”

  There is a jack in Ms. Jessup’s car, though she has never used it. She goes to get the jack from her trunk. “Bring the spare tire too,” I call after her.

  “How will that help?” she asks.

  “You’ll see.”

  When she comes back I slip the spare tire underneath the trunk of the car. If something goes wrong, the car will not crush me. Then I feel underneath the car for the right place to set up the jack.

  “Who taught you how to do that?” Ms. Jessup sounds impressed.

  “My parents.”

  Ms. Jessup watches as I crank the jack.

  Slowly the back of the convertible begins to rise.

  Mwezi roars as she tumbles from the back seat to the front seat.

  Ms. Jessup must have radioed the two keepers, because they come running to the parking lot. One has a dart gun. When Mwezi sees the gun, she lets out another terrible roar.

  “Put that gun away!” I tell the keeper. “You are upsetting Mwezi.”

  The keeper ignores me. He turns to Ms. Jessup. “We need to get Mwezi back in her enclosure as soon as possible. The tranquilizer in the dart gun will calm Mwezi down so we can move her.”

  Ms. Jessup rubs her forehead. Mwezi has not stopped roaring. The sound is even louder than when Mwezi was honking the car horn.

  “Ms. Jessup! Don’t you see that the dart gun is making Mwezi more upset? Maybe it reminds her of the day her leg was caught in the trap!”

  “Jelly could be right,” Ms. Jessup says. Then she turns to the worker and asks him to put away the dart gun.

  Mwezi lets out another roar, but then she stops.

  “There must be another way to calm Mwezi and get her back to her enclosure,” Ms. Jessup says.

  Just then there is a rattling at the gate that leads to the parking lot. It’s Joon.

  “What are you doing here?” one of the keepers asks her.

  “I told you all to stay in the main building—and to keep the door locked!” Ms. Jessup sounds like she’s about to lose her cool.

  “I couldn’t wait inside any longer,” Joon says. “I was worried about Jelly. She’s my best friend.”

  “I am?” I say to Joon. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

  Ms. Jessup rubs her forehead. “Girls,” she says, “now isn’t the time to discuss the state of your friendship. We are trying to find a way to calm Mwezi down so we can get her back in her enclosure.”

  Joon points at me. “Jelly can calm anybody down,” she says, “even a lioness! All she has to do is tell one of her stories.”

  Which is how I end up sitting on the pavement in the parking lot, telling Mwezi the story of how I got my start as a part-time lion trainer.

  “Ms. Jessup asked me to carry a chair to the conference room,” I tell Mwezi. “On the way, I met a boy named Leopold. When he asked me if I was a lion trainer, I started to say no, but then I changed my mind.”

  Mwezi crouches down on her front legs. She is getting into my story.

  A lot of my stories start out with something true, but then my imagination takes over.

  “I was training a lioness when the porcupine living in the next enclosure escaped,” I say.

  Mwezi licks her front paws. Lions do not like porcupines. If a lion attacks a porcupine, the porcupine’s quills can get stuck in the lion’s mouth. Sometimes the quills get stuck there forever!

  “The porcupine crawled under a fence and into the lioness’s enclosure. It was nighttime, but as you know, the lioness could see in the dark, like all cats. She wasn’t planning to eat the porcupine. (The lioness had had two helpings of meatballs for her supper.) All the lioness wanted to do was tell that porcupine to go home.

  “But the porcupine panicked. He lowered his back, which is what porcupines do when they are upset. The lioness roared. Her mouth was open, and five porcupine quills got in!

  “I brought the lioness to the dentist. Luckily, the dentist had a big chair. The dentist removed all the quills, but the lioness was still angry with that porcupine. She wanted the porcupine to pay the dentist bill.

  “So on the way home from the dentist’s office, the lioness asked me whether we could stop in at the porcupine’s enclosure.

  “Of course I said yes. No one argues with a lioness.”

  Mwezi roars at that part of the story.

  “What happened next?” Ms. Jessup asks.

  “A snowy owl was flying overhead. Owls are one of the few animals that know how to hunt for porcupines. That snowy owl was just about to swoop down on the porcupine when—”

  “Doesn’t Jelly tell the best stories?” Joon asks.

  “Shhh, don’t interrupt,” Ms. Jessup tells her.

  “—when the lioness roared. The snowy owl flew off into the night. And the porcupine paid the dentist bill.”

  Ms. Jessup, Joon and the two keepers clap when I reach the end of the story.

  Mwezi yawns. At first I worry she didn’t enjoy my story. But then Ms. Jessup raises one finger in the air and says, “Like all cats, lions yawn when they are relaxed. I think that now, thanks to you, Jelly, Mwezi is ready to let us lead her back to her enclosure.”

  Chapter Ten

  I am sitting with Joon and Leopold on the bench outside Mwezi’s enclosure. “Make Mwezi come over!” Joon says.

  Today when I blow on the bars of the enclosure, Mwezi’s ears turn up, and she comes bounding over.

  “You really are good with lions,” Leopold says. “But you never put your head in Mwezi’s mouth, did you?”

  “Okay, I admit it. I didn’t. I’m sorry I tried to fool you two. Sometimes when I tell a story, I get carried away by my own imagination.”

  “Did I hear someone say imagination?”

  It is Ms. Jessup. She and Hilda are carrying the new bench.

  “This bench is made of fiberglass,” Hilda says. “It should last thirty years.”

  The three of us get up to help Ms. Jessup and Hilda. They want to put the new bench next to the old one.

  “Did you see the plaque?” Hilda asks.

  There is a bronze plaque on the new bench. Engraved on the plaque are the words In Thanks to Jelly, Part-time Lion Trainer.

  I am so happy that for once I have no words.

  Ms. Jessup claps my shoulder. “We put the plaque on the bench as a way to thank you for helping us get Mwezi back in her enclosure.”

  “Does that mean Jelly really is a part-time lion trainer?” Joon asks.

  Ms. Jessup looks me in the eye. “As a matter of fact, I want to offer you a volunteer position, Jelly. Your official title will be part-time lion trainer, though your duties will be filling the animals’ bowls with water and helping Hilda with repairs.”

  “That sounds amazing,” I tell Ms. Jessup.

  “Now that that’s settled,” Joon says, “do you think you can find a job for me too? Maybe you could put me in charge of collecting people’s suggestions for improving this place—like selling cotton candy in the cafeteria and having a designated area where the animals can come to look at the people!”

  “That would make a great article for my school newspaper,” Leopold says.

  He and I test the new bench. He stretches his legs out in front of him and sighs. “Jelly,” he says, “why don’t you tell us another story?”

  Mwezi roars.

  I think that means she is in the mood for another story too.

  MONIQUE POLAK has written many novels for young adults, including her historical novel What World is Left, which won the 2009 Quebec Writers’ Federation Prize for Children’s and Young Adult Literature. When not writing award-winning books, Monique teaches English and humanities at Marianopolis College in Montreal, Quebec. She is also an active freelance journalist. For more information, visit moniquepolak.com.

  Chapter One

  “Did I ever tell you we have an elevator?” I ask Maddie.

  Her brown eyes widen.
“You never mentioned it. But that is seriously cool. Where is it?”

  Maddie believes all my stories. It’s one of the reasons she’s my best friend.

  Another reason is that she is super kind. It also helps that Maddie lives two doors down, which is handy, especially during snowstorms.

  “Our elevator is at the back of my parents’ closet.”

  “Where does it go to?”

  Maddie always asks a lot of questions. Luckily, I am great at coming up with answers.

  “To the attic.”

  “Can we ride it?”

  I was hoping she would ask. “Yup. There’s just one hitch.” I pause. That will make her even more eager for a ride on our elevator. “I have to blindfold you.” I make it sound like blindfolding your best friend is no big deal.

  “Blindfold me? Jelly, is this one of your stories?”

  I make a huffing sound so she will know I am insulted. “Of course not. The blindfold is for insurance purposes. So you won’t sue.” My parents are both lawyers, so I know a lot about suing.

  When we get to my parents’ bedroom, I grab a dark scarf from my mother’s drawer and tie it over Maddie’s eyes.

  “Can you see anything?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Perfect.”

  I spin her around three times. Then I lead her into my parents’ closet. I guide her so she doesn’t trip over the shoes and boots. “Okay,” I tell her. “We’re inside the elevator now.”

  I clang together two wire hangers and stamp my feet on the closet floor. “Whoa,” I say. “We’re going up. I feel it in my stomach.”

  “Me too,” says Maddie.

  I grin. My plan is working.

  “What’s up in your attic?” she asks.

  “Skeletons.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head.

  “Cool.”

  “We’re nearly there,” I tell her. I clang together the wire hangers again. “The elevator doors are about to open.”

  “I can’t believe I have a friend who has her own elevator,” Maddie says to herself.