Merhorses and Bubbles
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1: LOOKING UNDERWATER
CHAPTER 2: STREAM BUGS
CHAPTER 3: STREAM TROUBLE
CHAPTER 4: WATER TESTS
CHAPTER 5: MAGIC DOORBELL
CHAPTER 6: THE MERHORSES
CHAPTER 7: PLEASE HELP!
CHAPTER 8: SASSAFRAS?
CHAPTER 9: INTO TOWN
CHAPTER 10: YOU’VE GOT TO STOP!
CHAPTER 11: PAINTING THE STREETS
CHAPTER 12: A GIFT!
CHAPTER 13: A RAINBOW ROOM
GLOSSARY
FOR ELLIE AND LUCY – ML
FOR GOOSE AND BUBS – AC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication
Citro, Asia, author.
Merhorses and bubbles / Asia Citro; illustrator, Marion Lindsay.
pages cm -- (Zoey and Sassafras; 3)
Summary: A girl, Zoey, and her cat, Sassafras, use science experiments to help a local stream and magical merhorses.
Audience: Grades K-5.
LCCN 2016904047
ISBN 978-1-943147-21-2
1. Cats--Juvenile fiction. 2. Animals, Mythical--Juvenile fiction. 3. Horses--Juvenile fiction. 4. Aquatic ecology--Juvenile fiction. [1. Cats--Fiction. 2. Imaginary creatures--Fiction. 3. Horses--Fiction. 4. Ecology--Fiction. 5. Science--Experiments--Fiction. 6. Experiments--Fiction.] I. Lindsay, Marion, illustrator. II. Title. III. Series: Citro, Asia. Zoey and Sassafras
PZ7.1.C577Mo 2016
[E]
QBI16-600079
Text copyright 2017 by Asia Citro
Illustrations copyright 2017 by Marion Lindsay
Journal entries handwritten by S. Citro
Published by The Innovation Press
P.O. Box 2584, Woodinville, WA 98072-2584
www.theinnovationpress.com
Production Date: February 2017 | Plant Location: Stevens Point, Wisconsin
Cover design by Nicole LaRue | Book layout by Kerry Ellis
PROLOGUE
These days my cat Sassafras and I are always desperately hoping we’ll hear our barn doorbell.
I know most people are excited to hear their doorbell ring. It might mean a present or package delivery, or a friend showing up to play. But our doorbell is even more exciting than that. Because it’s a magic doorbell. When it rings, it means there’s a magical animal waiting outside our barn. A magical animal who needs our help.
My mom’s been helping them basically her whole life. And now I get to help too . . .
CHAPTER 1
LOOKING UNDERWATER
A shadow caught my eye and I ran to the window. Was that –? No, it was just a crow. I sighed.
Our baby dragon friend, Marshmallow, had returned to his life in the forest weeks ago. But I was hoping he’d come visit again soon. Really soon. The sooner the better.
I sighed and rolled a giant tube back and forth on our dining room table with one hand while I searched the sky for Marshmallow. Just in case.
“Ow! Hey, that’s my hand!” I yelped.
Sassafras must have been aiming for the rolling tube, which he probably thought was now alive. But his needle-sharp claws landed on my poor hand instead.
“You’re not even supposed to be on the table, stinker,” I said as I lowered him to my lap.
“Meow!” he complained. He slipped his front paws onto the table one at a time and looked up to see if I’d noticed.
I had, but I decided to let him stay and watch. “Just a little longer before we go to the stream, Sass. With my underwater viewer, I’ll be able to see all the bugs at the bottom of the stream really well. I’ll be the best stream bug hunter ever.”
Argh! The piece of plastic wrap I’d grabbed from the kitchen wasn’t big enough to fit over the end of the tube. I picked up Sassafras and set him on my chair. I patted his head. “I’ll be right back and then we can go.”
I pulled the plastic wrap out of the kitchen drawer and heard a loud yowl from the dining room.
“Meeoooooooowww!”
I shook my head. That silly cat. I checked the dining room, but I didn’t see Sassafras anywhere.
Thunk.
I looked down at the floor. Something moved. The plastic tube for my underwater viewer was now under the table. How did that get there? I bent down to pick it up, and it turned toward me. My cat’s face peered at me from inside the tube.
“Oh, Sassafras! You’re not supposed to shove your whole head inside the viewer! You just look through it.” I gently wiggled the plastic cylinder off my cat’s fluffy head.
His head popped out and he rubbed against me and purred.
“You’re welcome, goofball,” I said, ruffling his fur. “Maybe we should leave the underwater viewer to me from now on, huh?”
“Meow!” Sassafras agreed.
We sat back down at the dining room table and I got to work. My mom had cut the bottom off a plastic jar to make it a tube with an opening big enough for me to look through. (And also big enough for my cat to get his head caught in.)
I carefully smoothed the plastic wrap over one end of the tube and stretched three rubber bands around the outside. Ta-da! My viewer was done. Now all I needed was some stream water.
I gathered up my things and heard the bushes rustle outside. I ran to the window, hoping that it might be my monster friend Gorp, but this time it was only a squirrel. I sighed. Should I stay home? In case the magic doorbell rang?
Sassafras bumped his head into my leg and meowed impatiently.
He was right. Waiting wasn’t going to make a magical creature appear. Besides, I might be even more likely to run into Gorp in the forest. And I could see the sky just as well (and maybe even better) down at the stream. I made up my mind.
“Mom! Dad!” I hollered. “Sassafras and I are going to the stream now.”
“OK!” Mom called back. “But remember, no whining when I call you back for lunch!”
“Who me?” I giggled as I headed out the door.
CHAPTER 2
STREAM BUGS
Sassafras ran by my heels and meowed up at me. I could tell that he was especially excited to head to the stream today after all my talk of bug-hunting.
“If you promise not to eat them, I’ll show you some of my favorite stream bugs,” I told him.
Sassafras tilted his head to the side, like he was considering my offer. I really hoped he could resist gobbling up the poor stream bugs. Whenever he spies a bug, his tail gets all twitchy. He’s always trying to eat them, and I’m always trying to save them!
“You’ll be able to see their neat little gills flutter like hummingbird wings. It’s pretty cool, Sassafras. The mayfly babies have seven rows of gills down the sides of their bodies. They beat up and down to move the water around and grab teeny tiny bubbles of air out of the water.” I took a deep breath. “I do like having lungs, but sometimes I wish I had gills so I could live underwater. Don’t you?”
Sassafras’ eyes got big. He was probably thinking of all the bugs he’d get to eat if he could breathe underwater.
When we got to the stream, I set all of my supplies on the sandy shore. Today was nice and warm. A perfect day to hunt for str
eam bugs. The water sparkled as the sun reflected off the ripples in the stream. Wait a minute. Was part of the stream sparkling in rainbow colors? I took a few steps closer and squinted in the sunlight. But I couldn’t see the rainbow anymore.
“Huh. I’m so desperate to find magic today, I guess I’m seeing things!” I said to Sassafras. He peered up at me and blinked.
I looked one more time, but the stream seemed normal again. I shrugged and took off my shoes, rolled up my pants, and grabbed my underwater viewer.
“It’s bug time!” I exclaimed as I marched into the stream.
Sassafras must have been distracted by the thought of bugs because he followed me. But when the tip of his front paw touched the stream water, he jumped sideways and shook his paw like crazy! He squeezed his eyes closed tight and jumped around a bunch more with his ears flat against his head. I couldn’t help but laugh as he flipped and flopped about. Sassafras seriously hates getting wet. Apparently even more than he loves eating bugs.
Sassafras climbed a nearby tree and scowled down at me.
I grabbed the little tub I’d brought and filled it with some stream water. “I’ll put the mayfly babies in here, Sassafras. That way I can bring them on shore to show you. But remember. No eating!”
I pressed the plastic-wrapped side of my underwater viewer into the water and peered through the tube. I could see the bottom of the stream really clearly. Ooh, a rock as big as Sassafras’ head! There ought to be at least five or six stream bugs clinging to the bottom of that one. I flipped it over and saw . . . nothing? Huh. That was weird. The rock was perfect for stream bugs! I shrugged and used my underwater viewer to find another big rock. No bugs.
“What is going on?” I muttered.
I investigated rock after rock after rock, but I couldn’t find a single mayfly baby. I did, however, find a lot of algae. It was cold and slimy, and I had to keep flicking my hands to get it off.
I also found some wormlike things oozing along the bottoms of the rocks. I poked at them a little, but they weren’t as interesting to watch as my fluttering, gilled mayfly babies.
“Sassafras? Do you think the mayfly babies somehow turned into adult mayflies all at once?” I called up to him. “Mayflies start as eggs, and then the eggs hatch underwater and the little mayfly babies crawl out. They live in the stream for a long time until they get bigger and shed their skin.”
I shivered. The shedding skin thing always kind of freaked me out.
“When they get rid of their skin at the top of the water, they crawl out, and boom — they have wings. Maybe they did that all at once or something?”
I looked around and didn’t see any flying bugs. But then again, mayfly adults only live for a day or so, which is so unfair. If I lived all my life underwater and woke up with wings one day, I’d want more than one day to fly around.
“OK, fine. Maybe all the mayfly babies have flown away. I’ll just find you a caddisfly baby, Sassafras. They are also super cool. You can’t really see their gills, but they build homes on their backs out of mud and rocks or leaves or twigs, and then they can hide inside like a hermit crab hides inside its shell.”
I must have made Sassafras curious. He hopped down from the tree and came to the edge of the stream to watch me. I used my underwater viewer to focus on the tops of rocks and the gravelly bottom of the stream this time. But no matter which way I looked, I couldn’t find any caddisfly babies crawling around. Was this a really unlucky day?
I flicked more algae off my hand. “Ugh! I give up!” I humphed as I flopped down next to Sassafras on the shore. He nuzzled my arm. We were both pretty bummed. No fun stream bugs today, I guess.
Sassafras’ ears pricked toward home. He meowed once and trotted back down the trail. I strained my ears and could barely make out my mom’s voice. Oh! It was time for lunch.
As I put my socks and shoes on, I thought I saw that shimmer of rainbow light on the other side of the stream. I took a step closer, but then it disappeared. Mom kept calling in the distance. I took one last minute to look for the rainbow light, but all I saw was the normal sparkling stream water. I shrugged. I must have imagined it. Ugh. There really wasn’t anything exciting to see at the stream today.
I trudged home with slumped shoulders. So much for a fun afternoon.
CHAPTER 3
STREAM TROUBLE
My mom and dad were getting lunch ready in the kitchen. I sank down in my chair at the table with a frown on my face.
“What’s wrong, Zoey? Didn’t you have fun at the stream?” Dad asked, taking the seat next to me.
I shook my head no. “I looked and looked, but there were no stream bug babies anywhere.”
“You mean nymphs?” Mom called over her shoulder.
“Oh, right!” That’s the word I kept forgetting. Nymphs. “Yeah, no mayfly or caddisfly nymphs anywhere. Seriously. I’m super good at bug-hunting — I even had my underwater viewer! I guess they all turned into adults at the same time and flew away.” I sighed loudly.
My mom stopped what she was doing and sat down with me and Dad. I sat up a little straighter in my chair. “No, they wouldn’t all turn to adults at the same time,” she said. “That’s why we usually find different-sized nymphs when we go. Some are newly hatched and tiny, and others are about to become adults and huge. Did you see anything else unusual? Like a lot of algae?”
I rubbed my hands on my pants at the thought of it. “Yes, it was super slimy and cold. It kept sticking to my hands.”
Mom and Dad looked at each other. Why were they so serious?
Then Mom said, “Sweetie, we need you to wash your hands and feet really well.”
“My feet too?” I whined. My stomach growled. “Can’t I do it after I eat? Why do I have to do it now?”
“Do you remember your mom telling you why our stream has so many mayfly and caddisfly nymphs?” Dad asked.
I nodded. “Yes, because our stream is really clean. Mayfly and caddisfly babies are delicate. They can only live in waters that aren’t polluted with yucky chemicals.” My eyes got big as I realized what my dad was trying to say. “Oh no. Is our stream polluted? Are all the baby stream bugs dead?”
Dad shrugged. “We don’t know yet. But this doesn’t sound good.”
“After lunch, you and Sassafras can go back to get a water sample,” Mom said. “We can run some tests to check. But right now we need you to wash up.”
I went to wash my hands and feet without any more complaining. As I scrubbed my hands, I felt worried. What if our beautiful stream was sick?
CHAPTER 4
WATER TESTS
After a sad and quiet lunch, Sassafras and I went back to the stream. I brought a cup for a water sample and my science journal. When we got there, I took out my journal and wrote:
QUESTION:
Is our stream polluted?
OBSERVATIONS:
No mayfly babies.
No caddisfly babies
I bent over and scooped up some stream water with the cup. This time, I was careful not to get any water on my hands or feet. I tucked my journal under my arm, and Sassafras and I walked straight back home.
We found Mom in her office with Dad. I handed her the water sample I’d carried home from the stream.
“Thanks, sweetie. Do you want to help me?”
I darted over to Mom’s side. I was excited to help. And also a little scared of what the tests might tell us. I was just as worried about the stream bugs as I’d be about any magical animals. Now that I thought about it, I hoped the polluted stream wasn’t hurting the magical creatures in the forest too! “There’s still a chance that the stream isn’t polluted, right, Mom?”
“Yes. We won’t know until we run some tests.” She put kits with tubes and little tablets on the counter. I peeked at the supplies. I loved when my mom let me use the same tools that real grown-up scientists use in their labs.
I poked a finger at one of the shiny plastic cards with different colored squares. Mom looked
down at me. “You’re going to use real chemicals to test the water sample. So what do you need for your eyes?”
“My Thinking Goggles!” I dashed to my room, grabbed my lucky goggles, and ran back to help my mom. I usually wore my Thinking Goggles on top of my head (close to my brain) to give me good ideas. But this time I used them in the usual way — on the front of my face to keep my eyes safe.
Mom opened a tiny tube filled with little strips of paper. “Let’s test for pH first. Put on the gloves, then fill an empty test tube with some of the stream water. Next, add a strip of paper and watch it. It will change color after about a minute. Once the color stops changing, pull it out and match it to one of the colored squares on this card.”
I did all the things she said. It took me a minute to decide which square matched the color of the paper strip. “I’m pretty sure it matches square number ten. What does that mean, Mom?”
Dad shook his head sadly.
“It means that there’s definitely something in our stream,” Mom said. “A normal stream would be close to seven. Pollution can cause that number to go really low or really high, depending on what is being added. This is a clue, though. We know that whatever was added to the stream has a high pH number. Let’s run one more test to see if we can guess what type of pollution it is.”
She pulled out a new test tube. This time I got to put a tablet inside the tube and shake it. The stream water changed from clear to a pretty blue in the tube.
Mom and Dad both frowned when they saw the color.
“It’s testing positive for phosphates,” Mom said to Dad. Then she turned to me. “These results definitely explain why you didn’t see any mayfly or caddisfly nymphs. My best guess is that there’s some kind of soap or detergent getting into our stream.”
I set the tube down with a frown and wrote in my science journal: