by Elise Broach
“Packing my stuff.”
“That’s crazy. My dad doesn’t know anything about you. He’s not going to turn you in.”
Tyler tugged the side door of the garage till it squeaked open, then pounded up the narrow steps to the apartment. Lizzie ran after him.
“But you just got here,” she pleaded. “Don’t you want to stay?”
He whipped around. “Yeah, of course I do! I never had a place like this in my whole entire life. But I can’t now. I have to get out of here.”
He snatched his backpack from the floor and began stuffing his now-clean clothing into it.
Lizzie grabbed his arm. “Tyler, stop. Can you just slow down for a minute? If you really want to leave—” At the look on his face, she amended, “If you really think you have to leave, I’ll help you. But my dad won’t be back until late. You heard him. So let’s just hang out for a while. We’ll make sure you have everything and then we’ll go to the snack bar, like my dad said, and get something to eat. You should take food with you, right? And there’s a bus back into town that comes by the zoo gate at closing.”
Tyler sat on his heels, his half-filled backpack cradled in his lap. “I don’t have money for the bus,” he said.
“I have a bus pass,” Lizzie said promptly. “I’ll give it to you. Then you can go anywhere you want.”
He was still breathing hard, but he seemed to hesitate.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, more gently. “We can have something to eat here, that stuff we brought over yesterday. Then you can pack up.”
He slid the backpack off his lap. “Okay,” he said resignedly. “But then I’m leaving.”
He looked around the quiet apartment, and Lizzie watched his gaze move from the tidy kitchen to the sunny living room and to the open doorway of the bedroom. The expression on his face suddenly seemed like the saddest thing she had ever seen. Where would he go?
Chapter 16
AT THE CLINIC
THEY SPENT THE afternoon in the sunny apartment, snacking on potato chips, apples, and peanut butter, and organizing Tyler’s few possessions. Lizzie got her journal from her bedroom and curled up on the blue sofa to write about the wolves. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lobo.
“What is that thing?” Tyler asked. “You carry it everywhere.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s my notebook. My summer homework.”
“Summer homework?” He recoiled. “That’s crazy.”
She smiled at him. “I know. But it’s not graded. We’re supposed to keep a nature journal, like John Muir did.”
“So what kind of stuff are you writing?”
“Oh, just things about trees and flowers and the animals at the zoo. Mostly about the wolves.”
“Read me something.”
Lizzie frowned. “I don’t read it to anyone. It’s just for me.” At his disappointed look, she said, “Here, I can read you something John Muir wrote. I copied a bunch of his quotes.” She flipped to the front of the notebook and found one she liked. “Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike.”
What would John Muir say about the wolves? she wondered. He seemed to believe so passionately in the goodness of nature, that nature made no mistakes. But the wolves were dying.
“Huh,” Tyler said thoughtfully. “He sounds kind of religious.”
Lizzie nodded. “He was religious about nature.”
“I think people need bread more than beauty.” Tyler stood at the kitchen counter, studying the supply of food. “I know I do.” He put two apples and two bottles of water in the backpack, then drummed his fingers on the countertop fretfully. “We’re going to get more food at the snack bar, right? Before I leave?”
“Sure,” Lizzie said. “As much as you can carry.”
* * *
An hour later, they sat in a corner of the food court at a table heaped with food. The zoo was closing now, so the other tables were empty, with throngs of people walking through the plaza toward the exit gates. Lizzie knew that this was basically a last meal. Even though they weren’t hungry after snacking all afternoon, Tyler had ordered almost everything on the menu. Behind the counter, Sonya had laughingly piled their selections on two trays, asking, “Are you having a party? This can’t be for just the two of you!” And now the bounty was spread before them: two hot dogs, two hamburgers, a cheese pizza, onion rings and french fries, two chocolate chip cookies, and two jumbo lemonades. Lizzie barely felt like eating; she was too worried about Lobo, and now worried about where Tyler would go next. But Tyler suffered no such inhibition. He steadily worked his way through the feast, while Lizzie drew a picture of Lobo in her notebook. From the summer of watching him, she knew his face by heart.
“Hey, that’s pretty good,” Tyler said, stuffing an onion ring into his mouth and crunching loudly.
Lizzie held it away from her, studying it critically. “Not really. I like to draw, but I’m not good at it.”
“Well, I can tell it’s Lobo,” Tyler said.
Lizzie looked at him in surprise. “Really? How?”
“Cuz he has that stripe of darker fur in the middle of his head.” He gestured with one greasy finger. At her expression, he snorted. “You think you’re the only one who can tell them apart? I bet I’ve spent more time looking at them than you have.”
“No way,” Lizzie said. “I’ve been writing about them all summer.” She waved the notebook in his face. “But,” she said begrudgingly, “it’s good that you can tell it’s Lobo. I guess I’m a pretty good drawer after all.”
“Or I’m good at—” Tyler shrugged. “Animals.”
Lizzie started to argue the point, but then decided it was true. “Yeah, you are,” she said.
They looked at each other over the mound of half-eaten food. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she added.
She was going to miss him, she realized suddenly. Not even her best friends, Margaret included, paid as much attention to the animals as she did.
“Believe me, me too,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “Your grandma’s place was a sweet setup.” He sighed. “But it’s time for me to leave.”
“Where will you go?” Lizzie thought of town. Sometimes she saw homeless people lying on the sidewalk near the grocery store parking lot, wearing too many clothes. She flinched. “By the grocery store?”
“Nah, that place is nasty.”
“Are you sure you can’t go back home? I mean, to your foster family?”
Tyler’s face clouded. “Nobody there that I want to see right now.”
Lizzie started to ask about Jesse, but she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. She tried a different approach. “Aren’t you getting tired of sleeping on the ground?”
He shrugged. “I like being outside. Without everybody in my face, you know? On my own.”
Stung, Lizzie fell silent. Did he mean that he liked that better than being with her?
Tyler shoved her gently. “Hey. I didn’t mean you.” When she couldn’t help smiling, he added, “You’re in my face but that’s just how you are. Like those goats in the Barnyard.”
“What?” Lizzie protested. He laughed and gathered the ample remains of their dinner order.
“You should have some,” he said. “Whatever you don’t eat, I’m taking with me.”
Lizzie shook her head. “I don’t feel like eating. I want to check on Lobo.”
“Me too. But Lobo’s not at Wolf Woods anymore, right?”
“No. My dad said they were taking him to the clinic.”
He took a long swig of lemonade. “Okay, help me wrap this stuff up.”
Lizzie got a plastic bag from Sonya and added some napkins; then they carefully packed everything on top of the clothing in Tyler’s backpack. When Tyler zipped it shut, it was bulging and smelled of cheese, onions, and fried food. He heaved it over his shoulder.
“L
et’s go.”
* * *
It was almost dark when they reached the clinic, but two outdoor floodlights cast an arc of white light over the yard. Lizzie saw the large pickup truck, its bed empty now. She felt a tense jolt of worry course through her. How could Lobo be sick? He was by far the biggest and strongest of the pack. She tried to shake off her fear. He had to be all right.
She and Tyler stood close to the fence, near a dense hedge of oleander. The pale blossoms glowed a ghostly pink in the dusk.
“This is where I usually watch from,” Tyler told her. “Cuz you’re shielded by the bushes. And you can see through that window.”
Lizzie was struck again by the secret world he’d been privy to, hiding out at the zoo and roaming around at night, when the crowds were gone. Maybe he really did know more about the animals than she did. Even during the day, Tyler had figured out how to make himself disappear; it seemed a valuable trick, when Lizzie thought about it, a kind of freedom.
All while she’d been studying the wolves and writing in her journal, she’d wished she could do so without them being aware of her. She wanted to see their truest, wildest selves, and they were never totally relaxed with people watching them. She’d read once that you could never know exactly what your own face looked like, because the expression you wore when you looked at yourself in the mirror wasn’t the expression you wore in real life. It seemed the same with the wolves … when someone was watching, they never acted the way they really were.
Sighing, Lizzie craned to see through the clinic window. The office was empty. She knew the examination and treatment rooms were on the other side of the building. From this vantage point, it was impossible to tell what was going on back there.
“Where is everybody?” Tyler demanded. “The truck’s here. The lights are on.”
“Sick animals are taken to the back,” Lizzie told him.
“Can we walk around to that side and look in?”
Lizzie shook her head. “It’s fenced off.”
Tyler frowned. “Can we get in through that gate over there?” He gestured to the gate at the corner of the clinic yard.
“No, you need a code,” Lizzie said. “And Karen would never let us in. My dad wouldn’t, either. Not with Lobo in there.”
“Then let’s climb the fence,” Tyler suggested.
Lizzie scanned the barrier of chain link. It was at least eight feet high. “How? It’s too tall.”
“No, it’s not,” Tyler scoffed. “I could climb this in my sleep. Come on, I’ll help you.”
“If you can do it, I can,” Lizzie answered, annoyed. “But what if someone sees us?”
“Don’t you want to check on the wolves? Follow me.” Tyler dropped his backpack on the ground and ducked into the leafy screen of oleander.
Filled with trepidation, Lizzie put her notebook on top of the backpack and pushed her way through the bushes. Her shoulder scraped against the metal fence. A few feet ahead, Tyler was already scaling the chain link, shoving the toes of his sneakers into the mesh and gripping the diamond-shaped openings high above to haul himself up. One sneaker slipped out, squeaking on the metal, and Tyler’s whole body clanged against the fence.
“Watch out,” Lizzie whispered. “Somebody will hear you.”
“Relax, I just slipped. I’ve got it now.” Grunting, he heaved himself up to the top of the fence, then lifted one leg over. “Look at me!” he called softly down to her. “I’m king of the zoo.”
“How are you going to get down?” Lizzie asked, but the words were no sooner out of her mouth than he swung himself over, gripped the top mesh briefly, and then dropped several feet straight to the ground. He landed with a thud and stumbled backward, regaining his balance. “See? Easy. Now you.”
So much for the help, Lizzie thought. She scrutinized the fence doubtfully. It occurred to her that he’d had practice at this.
“Okay, here goes,” she said. Wedging the toe of her sneaker into the mesh about two feet from the ground, she reached up with both hands as far as possible to grasp the chain link. She pulled herself up and clung to the sheet of fencing like a monkey.
“Good!” Tyler encouraged her. “Keep going.”
Lizzie had never felt so precarious in her life. The metal was biting into the tip of her sneaker, which seemed ready to slip from its tenuous purchase at any moment. She reached her hands up to grip a higher section of fence, and then, balancing on her more secure foot, took another step up, hauling herself higher. The cold metal pinched her fingers. Just as she was about to pull herself up to the top, she heard something.
“Shhhhh!” Tyler warned, whipping around toward the clinic. Lizzie, clinging to the fence with all her might, saw that the empty front office was no longer empty. On the other side of the big rectangular window, her father and Karen had appeared. Her father was heading toward the door.
“Tyler, hide!” she whispered frantically. “They’re coming out.”
Tyler raced across the dusty yard to the truck and dove underneath it, rolling out of sight. Lizzie could see her father reaching for the door handle. In desperation, she released her hold on the chain link and tumbled back into the bushes, scrambling to the ground.
The door of the clinic swung open. Lizzie crouched under the shield of oleander branches, holding her breath. She scanned the area around the truck to make sure there was no sign of Tyler. Then, just as her father stepped onto the porch, she saw Tyler’s backpack, out in the open on her side of the fence, with her green notebook lying on top. Quickly, she grabbed the strap and, with a soft swish, yanked it under the bushes.
“I just can’t believe it,” Mike was saying. Lizzie could hear the tension in his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an animal go downhill so quickly.”
Was it Lobo? Lizzie’s pulse raced. She leaned closer to the fence so she could hear.
“I don’t think he’ll make it through the night,” Karen answered soberly.
“We need an autopsy.”
“Yes.” Karen followed him into the yard. “I’ll take care of it.”
“On Tamarack, too. We should have done it for Athena.”
Lizzie could see their faces clearly now, her father’s creased with worry.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Karen touched his arm, and Lizzie started, remembering their other relationship, the one that had nothing to do with the zoo.
He shook his head. “I’m not blaming you,” he said quickly. “I know they’re your top priority. But to protect the rest of the pack … and, well, the board will ask me.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Karen said again. “If Lobo dies, I have someone in Fresno who can do it. I’ll go tonight.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Mike said. “I can ride with you tomorrow. I hope we won’t have to. I hope it turns around. He’s a big guy, stronger than the others.”
“Yes,” Karen said. “But the fever and the tremors…” She stopped. “We need to know what this is as soon as possible.”
Mike nodded. “Call me if anything happens, and we’ll figure it out. I’m going to head over and check on the other four.”
He squeezed Karen’s shoulder, much the way he would squeeze Lizzie’s when he wanted to reassure her. Then he walked toward the gate.
Lizzie could barely breathe.
Chapter 17
STRANGE TREATMENT
AS SOON AS her father had left the clinic yard and Karen had reentered the building, Lizzie stood up and brushed herself off.
“Tyler,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the quiet area where the truck sat. After a minute, she saw his legs wriggling under the bumper, and he pushed himself out into the open.
“Whoa, that was close,” he said softly, running toward her. “Give me my backpack! I forgot about it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lizzie complained. “You left it where anybody could see it.”
Tyler shrugged. “Good thing you grabbed it.”
“Yeah, good thing.” She picked up one str
ap of the backpack. “Should I throw it over?”
“Sure. But careful! There’s a lot of food in there. I don’t want it banging around.”
“I’m putting my notebook inside. Don’t forget to give it back to me.”
Lizzie stuffed her notebook into the backpack and glanced nervously at the window of the clinic. The front room was empty again. Karen must have returned to the sick wolf. She pushed her way out of the bushes, holding Tyler’s backpack aloft.
“It’s heavy,” she said, positioning herself a few feet from the fence. “Okay, here goes.”
She began to swing it. The first time she let go, the backpack sailed up through the air, hit the top of the fence, and promptly tumbled back toward the ground.
“Catch it!” Tyler cried.
“Shhhh,” Lizzie warned, rushing forward with arms outstretched. The heavy backpack hit them with a thud, and Lizzie almost fell over.
“You have to do better than that,” Tyler protested. “I don’t want the food to spill all over my clothes.”
Lizzie glared at him. She grabbed the strap and began to swing the backpack again, more forcefully. When she released it this time, it lofted over the fence, and Tyler ran to catch it.
“Good one,” he said happily. “Now climb over so we can see what’s going on with Lobo.”
Easier said than done, Lizzie thought. She shouldered through the bushes and began to pull herself up the chain link of the fence—foot, hand, hand, foot, hand, hand—heaving herself higher.
“You got it,” Tyler urged, his voice low. “Keep going.”
“What do I do now?” Lizzie asked, clinging to the wobbly top of the fence. The ground on the other side seemed a long way down.
“You have to swing your leg over,” Tyler told her. “The way I did.”
One thing Lizzie felt sure of: She was not going to be able to swing her leg over the way Tyler did.
“I don’t think—”
“Try.”
It took all of Lizzie’s strength to pull her torso over the rough top of the fence and heave one leg over. Now she was straddling the chain link uncomfortably, clinging to the metal wire, feeling the edges dig into her flesh.
