Say Good-bye

by Laurie Halse Anderson

  “Not an option” was all my mom would say about that.

  So Mom came up with an even more bizarre plan. She’d send me to stay with her mom, Dr. J.J. MacKenzie—a person she didn’t even get along with all that well herself. Just for a little while, she said. Until the work thing got straightened out.

  Once I was here, Gran insisted I enroll in school and finish out the school year. That was in March. Now it’s August, and I’m still here.

  Sometimes… I wonder if my mom’s ever going to come get me.

  Chapter Two

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  After I clean up from breakfast, I look for Sneakers, but I can’t find him anywhere. Frustrated, I give up and hurry through the door that leads into Gran’s clinic.

  It’s almost hard to remember how strange this place seemed when I first came here. I’d never been around animals much, had never even been to a vet’s office before. Dr. Mac’s Place was noisier, rowdier, and, well, smellier than I’d ever imagined!

  But the biggest surprise was how quickly I fell in love with the animals. Mom’s not a pet person, so maybe this new feeling for animals is something I inherited from Gran and just didn’t know about till now.

  What I’ve learned about animals is this: They don’t care where you’re from or what kind of clothes you wear or what you mother does for a living. They love you for who you are.

  That’s one reason I’m starting to actually like being here. Not that I’d ever tell Maggie that.

  I mean, I still get nervous around some of the animals that show up in Gran’s clinic. Especially the weird ones like ferrets and Gila monsters. One guy even brought in a sick tarantula!

  I think Mom would be proud of me if she could see what I do here. I work as a vet volunteer along with several other kids: Brenna Lake, Sunita Patel, David Hutchinson, and Maggie, of course. They started working together when the clinic was full of sick puppies—including Sneakers—and Gran was desperate for help. The puppies had all been bought from a man at the farmer’s market who was running a puppy mill—an illegal business where dogs are bred in really rotten conditions, just so somebody can make a fast buck. I arrived in the middle of it all and had to jump right in. We all did such a good job, Gran said, that she decided to keep us on as volunteers.

  We get along pretty well, even though we’re all different. Now that it’s summer vacation, most of us help out every day.

  This morning the others are already here, ready to go to work.

  “Good morning!” Gran says with a big smile as she comes out of her office. “I’m so glad you’re here today.”

  “Do you have a lot of patients today, Dr. Mac?” Sunita asks. “Any cats?” Sunita loves cats.

  “I’ve got something better,” Gran says, grinning. She holds up a clipboard with a list. “A lot of chores.”

  Everyone groans.

  Gran reads down the list. “The supply closet needs to be replenished. Sunita, can you take care of that? And the kennels need some cleaning—we’re expecting a lot of boarders this weekend…”

  There’s a lot of good-natured complaining as she goes down her list, but nobody really means it. We all feel pretty lucky to get to volunteer at a cool place like the clinic.

  The bell over the door rings again. I look up and see my favorite client.

  “Yum-Yum!” I exclaim. I run over and scoop the cute black-and-white dog into my arms. “What are you doing here, you little sweetie pie?” I say, stroking his long, silky hair. “Are you sick?”

  “It’s an emergency!” jokes his owner, Jane Young. “He’s having a bad-hair day—and he’s got a big date!”

  I laugh, and Yum-Yum licks my face. Yum-Yum is a tiny dog called a shih tzu. He’s not a puppy—this is as big as he’ll ever get. He almost looks like an expensive stuffed animal. Jane is an old friend of Gran’s. She owns a beauty salon, so she would have a dog with long, brushable hair! Gran’s been letting me take care of Yum-Yum’s grooming this summer.

  “We just got a last-minute call to visit the kids’ cancer ward at the hospital,” Jane explains. “You know, just to cheer them up a little. The dog that usually goes in on Monday can’t make it today, so I agreed to fill in. Can you do him right now?”

  “Sure, we’ve got time,” says Gran.

  I take Yum-Yum and Jane back into the grooming area and slip on an apron. Washing a dog can get really messy—especially if the dog isn’t too happy about having a bath! Yum-Yum doesn’t fuss at all, though, even when I dab a small amount of ointment into his eyes to protect them from the shampoo.

  Next I put cotton balls in his ears to keep the water out. I laugh. On Yum-Yum, they look like tiny little earmuffs!

  Talking softly to Yum-Yum, I turn on the sprayer and check to make sure the water is warm, but not too warm. Then I hold the sprayer about an inch from his back and soak his coat down to the skin. Gran taught me an important lesson about bathing animals: Be careful never to spray them in the face. It really upsets them.

  Once Yum-Yum is good and wet, I soap him up with a mild doggie shampoo. When I shampooed Yum-Yum the very first time, I wanted to use my salon shampoo and conditioner that I brought from New York. Mom always said it was the best brand for shiny, silky hair. I thought it would make Yum-Yum smell great and make him look like a doggie movie star. But Gran told me that you should never use people shampoo on dogs. It can be too harsh.

  Yum-Yum’s tail wags as I gently rub the soap through his coat. Some animals hate to be groomed, but Yum-Yum seems to enjoy his shampoo. He doesn’t try to squirm away. And he looks like he’s smiling!

  When I’m finished, I rub him down with a towel, then use a blow-dryer set on a quiet, low-temperature setting to dry him.

  “If you ever get tired of the animal business, you’ve got a job at my salon,” Jane jokes.

  “This is a lot more fun than some of the things we have to do here,” I tell her as I comb Yum-Yum’s soft hair. Like clean up dog poop!

  Gran stops by in between patients. “Yum-Yum! What a handsome pup you are.” She smiles at me. “How’s our groomer doing?”

  “Great,” Jane tells her. “Yum-Yum’s always glad to see Zoe.” Then she turns back to me. “Say, how would you like to come with me today and see Yum-Yum do his stuff?”

  “You mean to the hospital?”

  Jane nods. “What do you say, J.J.?” she asks Gran. “Can you spare your assistant for an hour or so?

  “Can I, Gran?” I ask hopefully. “Please?”

  “Sure,” Gran says. “Things are kind of slow around here today. And don’t worry, we’ll save some cleanup for you to do when you get back.” I know she’s teasing a little, though she barely cracks a smile. And I also know there really will be chores for me to do when I get back!

  “Thanks, Gran!”

  I hear a little bark and look down at my feet.

  Sneakers has snuck into the clinic again.

  “I’ve got one more thing to do before I go, though,” I tell Jane. She looks down and laughs. Gran shakes her head.

  Sneakers has peed on the floor!

  Chapter Three

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  I hold Yum-Yum in my lap as Jane drives us to the hospital. It’s a beautiful, hot August day, so we roll the windows down and drive with the wind in our hair.

  When we pull in to the parking lot, I stare up at the huge hospital building. So many windows … I think about all the people inside and why they’re there.

  Suddenly I feel really weird.

  When I lived in Manhattan with my mom, I got to go lots of places with her. I’ve traveled to other countries. Been to fancy restaurants, the theater, and the ballet. Mom would even take me to the set of her soap. She liked to brag that for a kid my age, I could talk to just about anyone, even grown-ups.

  But I’ve never been in the hospital. Never even visited anybody—especially sick kids.

  I try to ignore the strange feeling
in the pit of my stomach. I put on a smile and walk through the automatic doors into the main lobby. Everything looks cheerful, but in a forced kind of way. Like we’re all trying hard to pretend that nobody’s sick, as if nothing’s wrong.

  Jane leads me down a long hallway. The children’s cancer ward is on the first floor, through some swinging doors.

  It looks just like the hospital from the soap my mom was on, except the doctors and nurses don’t all look like gorgeous models and movie stars. They look pretty nice, though.

  The place smells like disinfectant. Colored drawings dot the faded green walls like wild-flowers. Pictures of rainbows, of mommies and daddies. Signs that say I LOVE YOU, DR. BILL!

  As Jane checks in at the nurses’ desk, I peek down the hall and into the nearest room.

  Oh, my gosh! There’s a girl about my age propped up in bed watching cartoons—and she’s totally bald!

  I’ve heard that chemotherapy—the drugs they give people to try to cure cancer—can make people lose their hair. But I’ve never actually seen anybody it’s happened to.

  I suddenly feel very conspicuous with my thick blond hair streaming down below my shoulders. I wish I’d skipped the shampoo and blow-dry this morning—wish I’d simply stuffed my hair up under a baseball cap like Maggie.

  I’m speechless.

  I mean, it’s one thing to be able to ask a smiling soap star for an autograph or to order from a waiter using the French that you’ve learned at school.

  But what do you say to a girl without any hair?

  I hug Yum-Yum to my chest. I’m really not prepared for this.

  Then I feel an arm slip around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, Zoe,” Jane says softly, with a reassuring smile. “They’re normal kids like you. They’ve just had some really rotten luck.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  “Cancer’s a stinking disease,” she adds, “but you can’t catch it from another person. And it doesn’t change these kids in here.” She taps her chest over her heart.

  “But their hair…”

  Jane chuckles softly. “That’s how I got into this in the first place,” she explains. “I do free hair-styling for chemotherapy patients. And if they want, I help them with wigs till their own hair grows back in. But wigs are uncomfortable for a lot of kids. So they feel better going au naturel.” She winks at me. “You’ll get used to it.”

  I smile. But inside I’m thinking, How could you ever get used to it?

  Suddenly Yum-Yum spots a tall skinny kid at the end of the hall. I bite my lip.

  Bald head. Shapeless hospital gown. Oh, gosh! At this distance, I can’t even tell if it’s a boy or a girl!

  Yum-Yum barks and wriggles in my arms.

  “Go ahead,” Jane says. “You can just put him down and let him go.”

  I stoop down and release him.

  The kid grins and throws a small red ball. As Yum-Yum dashes after it down the hall, I hear kids squeal and call out his name as they wander out of their rooms. Normal kid sounds. Not what you’d expect in a hospital.

  Yum-Yum catches the ball and carries it over to another patient—a young girl who looks about eight.

  “Give!” the young girl commands.

  Instantly Yum-Yum lays the ball at her feet.

  “Good dog!” the girl praises him. She gives his head a good scratching.

  “I wish Sneakers would behave like that,” I tell Jane. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a wonderful dog, and he’s always there for me when I’m sad.” The way Mom used to be. “But he sure doesn’t mind me very well.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jane says. “He’ll learn. He’s still a puppy. Just give it time, and stick with it. Then maybe one day, you can train Sneakers to do therapy visits, too.”

  I roll my eyes. “No way. He’s barely house-broken.”

  “Well, you do have to get that down first!” She chuckles.

  I follow Jane down to a lounge area. The windows look out onto a pretty garden in front of the hospital. There are lots of, plants around the room, plus several jigsaw puzzles and a chess set laid out on some tables.

  Many of the kids gather around. They’re all different ages, from teenagers to really little kids. Some have hair, some don’t. Some look okay. Others look really sick—pale and thin and tired, like they’ve had the flu or something.

  But they all smile at the sight of Yum-Yum.

  “Hey, Michael, check it out. That dog looks like a runaway wig!” a teenage boy jokes. I guess he hasn’t seen Yum-Yum here before.

  “Huh? Don’t make fun of my main man!” the boy named Michael replies. “Just wait till you see him do his tricks!” He whistles softly and claps his hands. “Yum-Yum! Come here, boy.”

  Yum-Yum trots over.

  “Sit,” Michael says, and Yum-Yum instantly obeys. Michael grabs a doggie treat from a jar and holds it in the air. “Sit up, Yum-Yum.”

  I’m amazed when Yum-Yum stands up on his two hind feet. Michael even gets him to walk a few steps. The kids laugh and clap. So do I.

  “Make him roll over!” a girl about my age shouts.

  Michael makes a rolling motion with his right hand. “Roll over, Yum-Yum. Roll over.”

  Yum-Yum rolls over and over on the linoleum floor.

  The kids clap and cheer as if they were at the circus.

  “Now watch this,” Michael tells the other boy. “Take a bow, Yum-Yum.”

  Michael dips his head.

  Yum-Yum sticks out one little paw and bends low over it. He really looks like he’s bowing! “Michael Maltin,” a nurse calls out.

  The laughter dies as quickly as if someone had turned off a TV. For a moment, Michael looks tired and much older. “More blood work for Nurse Bennett,” he complains to his buddy. “Yuck.” Then he turns back to Yum-Yum. “See you later, pal.”

  Yum-Yum barks, and Michael laughs. “Okay, little buddy. Shake!” He sticks out his hand, and Yum-Yum puts his small paw into it. Michael gives the paw a gentle shake.

  When Michael turns back to the nurse, he looks like himself again. “Okay, Dracula,” he tells her dramatically, holding out his arms in a gesture of mock helplessness. “Do your worst!”

  Nurse Bennett just laughs, shakes her head, and leads Michael down the hall.

  As the kids line up to shake Yum-Yum’s paw, I turn to Jane. “I can’t believe it. Yum-Yum ought to be on TV! How did you teach him all those things?”

  Jane chuckles. “When he was little, I used to hold up treats for him. That’s how he learned to stand on his hind legs. Some of the tricks are things the kids here at the hospital have taught him. But remember, Yum-Yum’s nearly thirteen! So he’s had years of practice.”

  A little girl who looks about six or seven comes up to us.

  “Hi, Stephanie,” Jane says. “What’s new?”

  “My mom brought me some new butterfly clips.” She holds them up proudly for us to see.

  “Oh, they’re gorgeous!” Jane coos.

  I’m speechless. Her mother brought her hair clips? What kind of mom would do something like that? Poor Stephanie doesn’t have any hair!

  Stephanie nods. “Mommy says they’re for when my hair grows back in. She says that’ll be really soon. And she says it will be prettier than ever!”

  I nearly blush, I feel so dumb. What kind of mom would do that? A smart one. She’s giving Stephanie something to look forward to.

  Just then Yum-Yum scampers up to Stephanie and licks her leg.

  Stephanie squeals with laughter. “Hello, Yum-Yum.” She bends down and gives the little dog a kiss on top of his head. “I don’t have any hair right now,” she tells him. “So you can borrow these if you want.” She looks up at Jane. “Is it okay?” she asks.

  “Okay with me,” Jane says. “As long as Yum-Yum doesn’t mind.”

  Stephanie plops down on the floor beside Yum-Yum and goes to work. She puts the butterfly clips in the long, silky hair around his ears.

  “Gorgeous!” Stephanie pronounces
.

  I’m amazed that Yum-Yum doesn’t mind. He’s so good with kids.

  Stephanie gives him a hug, then she makes a disgusted face. “Yum-Yum, I love you—but you need to brush your teeth!”

  Some of the other kids laugh, but I notice that Jane is frowning.

  “Maybe it’s that new dog food I’ve been buying,” she says to a nurse. “I think it’s giving him bad breath.”

  “Check the ingredients for garlic,” the nurse jokes. “That’s what always does it for me.”

  Suddenly Yum-Yum breaks away from the crowd of kids and takes off for a corner of the room.

  A girl is sitting there in a wheelchair with her back to the others. A teddy-bear balloon tied to one handle bobs for attention, but the girl doesn’t seem to know it’s there. She’s got a large blue bucket hat tugged down over her brow, shielding her eyes as she stares out the window at nothing. Her thin hands lie forgotten in her lap.

  Yum-Yum sits up by her slippered feet and barks at the girl. She doesn’t move. It’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

  “What’s wrong with that girl?” I quietly ask Jane.

  Jane sighs. “That’s Emma Morgan. Poor kid. They tell me she’s having a hard time of it. We all try to get her to socialize with the other kids, but she just doesn’t seem interested.” Jane smiles wistfully. “Most kids are just naturally hopeful, so even when they get sick with cancer, they roll with the punches pretty well, especially if they have good support. But Emma—she seems awfully down. Never talks much. Even Michael can’t get her to laugh.”

  “That is serious,” I say. I watch her for a moment. “She seems lonesome.”

  “That could account for a lot of it,” Jane says. “Apparently her parents are divorced, her mom works full-time, and her brother’s away at college in California, so she’s here by herself for most of the time.” Jane lowers her voice. “I don’t think she hears from her dad much.”

  That’s something I can definitely relate to.

  “Nurse Bennett told me a neighbor had to bring her in for treatment this time,” she adds.

  As I go over to get Yum-Yum, I see the girl’s face reflected in the glass window. She’s looking at me—at my hair. Her brown eyes are large, beautiful … and hopeless.