Love Me, Love My Broccoli

by Julie Anne Peters

Brett had a special practice every day after school this week to prepare for the playoff game on Saturday. Or so he said. Chloe suspected he was avoiding coming to her house because of Gran. She'd begun to frisk him at the door. Either that or he'd OD'd on oat bran.

  "I apologize," Muriel said. "Of course it's ridiculous to think you would've lost interest. It is the movement, after all. I know you've been distracted by this situation with your grandmother. Not to mention what's-his-worship."

  Chloe shot her a dirty look. Muriel missed it because she was rummaging in her backpack for something. "I'd never question the strength of your convictions, Chloe. Never. Sometimes I just question my own. Like when my mother refuses to allow me to become a vegan because she can't cook without milk and eggs. Even though I told her I'd cook for myself." Muriel sighed. "It isn't fair."

  "Life isn't fair sometimes, Muriel," Chloe said. "For instance—"

  "No sense crying over spilled milk." Muriel went on, "Anyway, look what I found." She flipped open her notebook and brushed through the pages. "Here it is. Did you know that only ten percent of all medical advances can be attributed to animal research?"

  "No, I didn't. What I was saying—" Chloe stopped short. "Ten percent? Is that all?"

  "And the number of repeat experiments is staggering. You know, experiments that are conducted over and over again because one scientist doesn't know what the others are doing? For example, isolation tests where animal babies are taken from their mothers at birth. They've been repeated two hundred times. Infecting animals with diabetes, eleven hundred times. Oh, and this will make your blood boil. Tests for radiation cancer have been repeated thirty-eight thousand times."

  "Thirty-eight thousand times? The same test?"

  Muriel shook her head. "Horrifying, isn't it? This law is so important. Think of all the unnecessary suffering it'll prevent." She turned to Chloe and said, "We should include these statistics in the speech, don't you think?"

  They'd reached the end of Chloe's driveway. Chloe said, "Statistics work better on paper, Mur. The most effective speeches appeal to people's emotions."

  "You're right. Of course you're right. That's why you're doing this and not me." Muriel grinned.

  Chloe lowered her head and plowed toward the porch. Oh, man. What am I saying? She wondered. Am I giving this speech or not? She spun to face Muriel. Standing there bathed in the glow of Muriel's adulation, a spark of the old Chloe fire reignited. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the passion surging. I can't, she caught herself. I just can't.

  Muriel smiled admiring eyes. Chloe made a decision. "Do you still have that report you wrote on why you converted to vegetarianism? You know, the one about the nightmares you had after watching that documentary on the chicken ranch where they debeak the chickens so they won't peck people? I really thought it captured the spirit of the movement."

  "You did? Oh, Chloe, do you really want to use it? I'd be honored."

  I must be insane, Chloe thought. Brett's going to kill me. No, he'll be upset, maybe even a little angry, but he'll understand. This'll be the last time. I'll promise him. Besides, who else could possibly be the voice of youth? "So, how's the bio bond between you and Mr. Keifer these days?" Chloe asked, taking the speech notes from Muriel.

  Muriel scoffed. "That fat fool? Do you know he had the gall to give me a B+ on my midterm because my diagrams were hard to read? And I found out he expects the seventh graders to dissect pigs. I suggested they dissect him; it'd give them more corpse to work with."

  Chloe laughed. "Oh, Mur. I've missed you." She whapped Muriel's arm. She reached for the doorknob and stopped. It wasn't there. Or rather, the knob wasn't where she expected it to be because the front door was hanging wide open.

  "Gran?" Chloe called, stepping inside.

  Silence. Where was she? Where was the caretaker who was supposed to be here with her? Something else was wrong.

  Chloe stomped her foot. "Deaf?"

  "What's this?" Muriel stooped to pick up a sheet of yellow paper off the foyer floor.

  They both read the note aloud, "Through animal research we have the power to heal disease and spare the suffering of thousands, maybe millions of children. We are the moral species. We must not allow legislation of animal rights to supersede human rights. Animals were put on this earth to be the servants of man. They must be sacrificed in order to serve the ultimate good."

  Chloe clucked her tongue. "Someone's been distributing these flyers all over town. Brett showed me one he got yesterday."

  "I know," Muriel said. "Nicole Medina told me she's getting a lot of calls about animals being stolen out of people's yards."

  "Really?" Chloe noticed some writing on the back. "There's more." She turned the sheet over.

  She and Muriel read the scrawled P.S. "Thank you for your donation."

  "My donation? What—" Chloe stopped breathing. "Oh, my God. Deaf."

  CHAPTER 18

  Chloe shot up the stairs with Muriel on her heels. She threw open her bedroom door and yelled, "Deaf! Deaf!" She stomped her feet. Her heart pounded in her throat. He wasn't in his usual sleeping place, curled up in her giant panda. "Deaf," she whispered hoarsely.

  Nothing. No sound. Then something. A scratching. Chloe's eyes were drawn to the sound. Her closet door was closed, which was odd. She never closed it. Muriel reached the closet first and forced the door open.

  "Deaf!" they both cried in unison.

  The sleepy cat stretched and yawned. Chloe snatched him up in her arms. Tears of joy, of relief, clouded her vision.

  "Thank goodness, he's safe," Muriel said. She kissed Deaf's head. A sound, a sort of scuffling came from downstairs.

  Then Chloe remembered. "Gran?" she called.

  Cuddling Deaf close, she scurried back down the stairs. Her father stood in the foyer, his arm wrapped around Gran's shoulder. She huddled, trembling inside an old quilt. Someone else was with them.

  "Thank you, Sergeant Carello," Chloe's dad said. "I appreciate you bringing us home."

  Chloe waited until the officer left before she said, "Dad, what happened?"

  "Gran went out," he said flatly.

  Chloe bit her lip. "Is she all right? Where was she?"

  "She's fine," he answered, ushering Gran toward her room. "Hello, Muriel. Do you mind if Chloe and I talk?"

  "Not at all, Dr. Mankewicz." Muriel backed toward the door. "I'll call you later, Chloe. We can finish the speech tomorrow."

  "Okay, thanks. Thanks for everything."

  Muriel gave Deaf a scratch under the chin before leaving.

  "Dad, it's my fault—"

  Her father held up a hand. "Could you put on some hot water? I need to get Mom to bed."

  Chloe hustled to the kitchen. She set Deaf on the floor and commanded, "Stay." If only he was a dog, she thought. A vicious-looking guard dog. She decided she'd never let Deaf out of her sight. Never.

  As she carried the tea to the dining room, she met her father coming in. "Gran was gone when I got home, Dad." Chloe said. "I don't know where the caretaker was—"

  "Sit down, Chloe." He pulled her chair out for her.

  "I have another solution, Dad. We could remodel the basement into an apartment and rent it out to a live-in caretaker, who'd be here full-time."

  Her father took a deep breath. "Your grandmother was found at your school wandering the halls, calling your name. For her protection, and my peace of mind, I think it's time we faced reality. I've decided to move her to Meridian this weekend."

  "Dad, no! We can take care of her. There's got to be a way."

  "We'll talk about your grandmother later. There's something else we need to discuss." He stood behind his chair across from her and set his briefcase on the table. Pulling out a stack of paper, he said, "That news story about you may not have been such a great idea. I've been getting notes in my email and my mailbox at school. Threatening notes." He handed her the notes.

  Chloe read the top sheet. It was the flyer, the same flyer
she found in the foyer, and on the back was a scribbled note: "Tell your daughter to back off." The next one was an email that read: "Control your daughter or the next time we'll follow through." Chloe shuddered.

  Her father took the stack back and said, "I'm not sure what they mean by following through."

  Chloe said, "They mean they'll actually take Deaf."

  "What?"

  She removed the crumpled flyer from her back pocket and showed him.

  "Where'd you find this?"

  "On the floor. In front." She pointed.

  "In our house? They were in our house? How'd they get in?" He stopped. He met Chloe's eyes. Suddenly the café doors whooshed open and Gran scuttled in. She was naked except for the quilt. She clutched Chloe's arm and wheezed, "Death squad."

  Chloe looked into her grandmother's vacant eyes and realized her dad was right. Gran was gone.

  Hours later, when she'd thought everything through, Chloe knew what she had to do. There was no choice now. She called Muriel first.

  "It's all my fault," Muriel said. "I shouldn't have written that article."

  "No, Mur," Chloe replied. "They would've found out somehow. Everyone involved in this bill is getting harassed. Anyway," she inhaled a long, trembling breath, "I can't give the speech. I can't be the voice of youth. I'm too afraid they'll try to steal Deaf again. The thought of him being sold to a research lab is just too horrible to imagine." Her voice cracked. "And I can't trust Gran . . ." Chloe began to cry.

  Muriel sniffled. "I understand, Chloe," she said. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

  Chloe called Brett next. She was so upset she could hardly speak. Somehow she managed to tell him everything that had happened.

  "I'm coming over," he said.

  "No, you don't have to."

  "I know I don't have to. I want to. I want to be with you."

  She was so glad to have Brett. So glad.

  When he got to her house, Brett said, "Let's take a walk."

  Chloe shut Deaf in her room before she left. "Don't move," she warned him. He perched atop her stereo speaker, washing his whiskers, oblivious to the dangers of the outside world.

  Chloe and Brett headed toward Grisham Park. "This never would've happened if they'd known you already decided not to give that speech," Brett said. He sat down on Buffalo Bill's boot. He smoothed her hair back from her tortured face, and held her.

  She didn't tell him the truth. What was the use? She wasn't going to give the speech now, so it was a moot point. They stood like that for a long time. How long, Chloe couldn't say. She'd lost track of time. Someone had knocked over a trash can and a styrofoam hamburger carton blew by them in the wind on its way to the frozen lake. Chloe shivered.

  "Let's go," Brett said. "It's too cold out here."

  Chloe didn't feel cold. She didn't feel anything. She let him take her hand and lead her away.

  Back at her house, Chloe's dad was installing a new lock that required a key to enter and exit. He smiled somberly at her. Brett warmed some hot chocolate and served it to her at the dining room table. Chloe drank half of it before she realized what it was. "Did you put milk in this?" she asked.

  "Oops. Yeah, I did. Sorry." He bent down to retrieve the mug. "I wasn't thinking. Do you want something else?"

  Chloe shook her head. She took the mug back from him, lifted it to her lips, and finished it all.

  Chloe decided she'd have to stay home from school the whole next week, until the hearing was over. Even with the new lock, she didn't feel she could protect Gran from wandering. Or someone from entering through a window to take Deaf. "I'll have Muriel bring me my homework," she told her father. "It's only until Friday."

  He seemed relieved.

  She grieved for all the stolen animals, all their owners. They'd never know what happened to their beloved family pets. If they suffered or died. If they were used for some painful experiment, then disposed of. Like trash. It made her sick.

  On Thursday night Chloe woke with a start. Through the floorboards she heard her grandmother's alarm clock chime midnight. Suddenly, there was a sound at her bedroom door, a soft mewing. "Deaf?" Chloe threw off the panda, clambered out of bed, and opened the door. "Gran? What are you doing here?"

  "Chloe? Is that you?" Her grandmother hunched in the hallway. She shaded her eyes against the wash of moonlight from Chloe's bay window. Shuffling in, she perched on the edge of Chloe's bed.

  "You're in my room, Gran," Chloe told her. "Come on, I'll take you back downstairs." She took her grandmother's hand.

  "Warning. I must deliver this warning." Her grandmother grasped Chloe's sleeve. "They have infiltrated the hideout. They are approaching. The enemy is within."

  Chloe sighed. She loosened her grandmother's grip on her and tugged gently on both hands.

  Gran locked eyes with her. "They broke in. I couldn't stop them. They looked for him, your Deaf. I hid him in your closet. I had to find you, to warn you."

  Chloe frowned a little and sat down next to Gran. "Is that why you came to the school? To warn me?"

  Her grandmother's eyes widened with panic, yet they seemed clear and lucid to Chloe. "I tried to stop them," she said. "I couldn't hold the door. I tried. I tried . . ." She lowered her head and her voice trailed off in a whimper.

  Chloe wrapped an arm around her grandmother's shoulders and squeezed gently. "Oh, Gran. I didn't even think about them breaking in. It must have been terrifying for you. I'm sorry. I'm sure you tried to stop them." She rested her head on her grandmother's bony shoulder. "I'm sorry for everything," she said softly, tears filling her eyes. "Especially for giving up on you. But, Gran, you saved Deaf. See?" She lifted her cat off the pillow and showed her grandmother.

  "They won't take me. The infiltrators will never take me alive." Her grandmother whipped her head up. Chloe saw the all-too-familiar glazed look reappear. "Capture is imminent. Death is the only means of escape. A noble death." She clutched Chloe's leg again between her icy fingers. "Don't let them take me. I beg you, Carlos." She ended in a stream of incoherent babble.

  Chloe took her grandmother back to her own bed. Tucking her in, she kissed her goodnight, then whispered, "I won't let them take you, Gran. Not ever."

  CHAPTER 19

  Chloe curled onto her window seat and rested her chin on her knees. Her eyes were drawn to the walls. They were illuminated in the pink glow of early dawn. Her walls, papered with posters of endangered species, each one a haunting reminder of the past. It all seemed so distant now. Her dream of making a difference, of saving just one species from extinction, one animal from the suffering or humiliation caused by human exploitation.

  "They're in danger," she heard herself say. "All of them. Dead or dying. Their habitats destroyed." She stared into the eyes of the Florida panther. Eyes the color of Deaf's. Trusting eyes. Beautiful eyes. Chloe crumpled over her knees. I can't let what they've done to you, to all of you, go on like this, she thought. It has to stop. She raised her head. Brett's words came back to her. "Believe it in, okay? Just don't get involved."

  "It won't stop by wishing it away, Brett," she said, as if he were in the room. "Nothing will change by simply believing." She scanned the posters. "I won't give up on you. I promise. Somebody has to do something. Me. I have to. I'm sorry, Brett. But believing isn't enough. Not for me."

  Muriel had already left her house when Chloe called the next morning. As Chloe was hanging up the phone, her father wandered into the kitchen, shoving a handful of tests into his backpack. "Morning, Dad," she said, pecking him on the cheek.

  "Chloe." He stopped abruptly. "You're up. And dressed. Are you going to school today?"

  "No. But I do have to go out for a while." She smiled at him. "I'll make sure all the doors and windows are locked." She hummed as she grabbed a granola bar from the pantry.

  "You seem happy," he said. "Have you gone off the deep end?"

  "Glub, glub. What you're hearing is the voice of youth," she replied.

  He raised
an eyebrow. "You're giving the speech today. Are you sure about this?" he asked.

  "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Power to the pigs!" She plunged her fist in the air.

  Her father chuckled. "I didn't figure anyone had the power to silence the voice of youth."

  "You got that right." She ripped open her granola bar.

  "I talked to the police," he said, "and told them about the threats and the break-in. They've been keeping an eye on the house. I don't think you need to worry about Deaf today. And Mom should be fine for one morning. But I'll come home as soon as my classes are over."

  "Thanks, Dad." Chloe hiked her backpack to her shoulder.

  "Chloe, about your grandmother. . ."

  "Don't do anything about Gran until we talk about it some more," Chloe said. "Okay?"

  At her back he said, "I already decided."

  She whirled on him. "You decided. What about me?"

  He held her eyes. "I think you know this is the only solution. I hate doing it. I hate the thought of sending her away. But honey, we lost her a long time ago. She's only going to get more forgetful, more . . ." He swallowed hard. "This is the best way. The only way."

  She felt her throat constricting. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew he was right. She knew. Oh, Gran.

  The sound of the doorbell made them both jump. Chloe blinked back her tears and hurried to answer it. In the hallway her grandmother hurtled out of her room wielding a hairbrush. Chloe stopped and hugged her. "Sub rosa," she whispered in her grandmother's ear.

  "The serpent returns." Her grandmother hissed.

  It wouldn't be the same without Gran. She felt as if she was losing a part of herself. More and more of herself . . .

  Brett's finger was poised to ring the doorbell again when Chloe flung open the front door. "Hi," he said. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you were. Hey, are you coming to school today?"

  She fitted the crocheted hat over her head. "No."

  "But you're dressed . . . what are you wearing?" His eyes scanned her once, twice, three times.