Anna, Banana, and the Monkey in the Middle

by Anica Mrose Rissi

  Before they could argue about it more, I distracted them by saying, “Let’s go find the giant panda!” Luckily, it worked.

  The black-and-white giant panda didn’t look so giant because he was all the way at the back of his pen, munching slowly on some bamboo leaves. We took turns watching him through the binoculars.

  “Ooh, he’s so cute!” I said when it was my turn to look at him. “Even cuter than in the videos we saw. And he looks just as soft as Banana.”

  Isabel nodded happily. But Sadie didn’t look convinced. “Let me see,” she said. I stepped aside and she put her face up to the binoculars. She looked for a minute, then shrugged. “I don’t think he’s cuter than the zebras,” she said.

  Suddenly my face felt as warm as it had in the tropical parrot jungle. “That’s not what I said!” I protested. “Besides, it’s not a competition.”

  “You like the pandas though, right?” Isabel asked. “You just said you did.”

  “I love all animals,” I explained, trying to reassure them both.

  “What’s your favorite animal, though?” Sadie asked. It sounded like a normal question, but it felt like a test. I wasn’t sure how to answer. But there was no getting out of it.

  “Banana!” I finally said. Which was true, of course.

  “No, what’s your favorite zoo animal?” Sadie said. “Which do you like better, zebras or pandas?”

  If felt like she was asking which I liked better, Sadies or Isabels. It felt like she’d been wondering that all day long.

  My heart was beating faster than a bumblebee’s wings. How could I convince Sadie that Isabel was not her replacement? How could I get her to stop expecting me to choose? “I like the elephants!” I blurted. “The elephants are my favorite so far.”

  Sadie nodded and I thought I was off the hook. But then Isabel pushed, “If you had to choose between pandas and zebras, what would you say?”

  I looked at Sadie, standing on one side of me with her arms crossed, and Isabel on the other, her eyes filled with hope. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it!” I yelled. “You’re making me feel like the monkey in the middle!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Who’s the Fairest?

  Isabel and Sadie looked stunned. “Sorry, Anna,” Isabel said gently, like she was afraid the words might break me. “We didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Yeah,” Sadie said, uncrossing her arms. “We weren’t doing it on purpose. We were just having fun.” But I knew it was more than that.

  I took a deep breath and let out the truth. “Well, it’s not fun for me,” I said. “I don’t want us to argue about every little thing. You have to stop asking me to choose between you.”

  Sadie’s cheeks went pink. “It’s hard with three of us sometimes,” she said, “when one of us gets left out, or worried we will be. I’m not used to having to share my best friend.”

  My heart leaped for Sadie. I didn’t want her to feel left out. I didn’t want any of us to feel that way. “Maybe we need a system,” I said.

  “A system for deciding who’s right?” Isabel asked.

  “No,” I said. “A system for making sure everything is fair. Like how we’ll take turns being the one who has to sit with someone else on the bus.”

  Sadie was nodding. “Yeah, we need rules. We should promise to share things equally and decide everything together.”

  Relief rushed through me. I was glad Sadie understood what I was talking about. And Sadie has always been good at making up rules.

  “What about when one of us wants something different from what the others want?” Isabel asked.

  “We can’t let that happen,” Sadie explained. “We all have to do everything exactly the same. Then no one will feel left out or get stuck in the middle.”

  Isabel looked unsure whether that was a good idea, like how Banana looks when I try to feed her celery. But after a pause, she said, “Okay. That does sound most fair.”

  “Yeah! It’s a plan. This will be great,” I said. “Three cheers for triplets!” I bumped my hip against Isabel’s to make her laugh, then bumped against Sadie’s, too, to make it fair.

  “The best things come in threes,” Sadie said. “Like us.”

  “We’ll be like the Three Musketeers. All for one and one for all,” Isabel said.

  I heard Justin snicker as he and Timothy came over to use the panda binoculars. “Or the three mouse-keteers,” Justin said. He held up his hands like tiny paws and wiggled his nose. “Eek, eek, eek!” he said in what I guess was supposed to be a mouse voice. He reminded me more of Banana’s squeaky rabbit.

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” I said. I held my chin high and turned away from him. Sadie and Isabel did the same. At least we could all agree that Justin was being dumb.

  It seemed like a good start.

  Chapter Twelve

  No Fair, No Fun

  We said good-bye to the pandas and followed Leticia and Ms. Burland to the lunch area. Mr. Garrison’s class and Ms. Chung’s class were already there, spread out at the picnic tables. Sadie ran ahead to claim us a good spot, so we wouldn’t get separated.

  Isabel slid onto the bench next to Sadie, and I plopped down across from them. My tummy rumbled as I pulled my lunch bag out of my backpack. “Did you hear that?” I said. “My stomach is growling like a bear.”

  “Mine’s roaring like a lion,” Sadie said. She was taking everything out of her lunchbox and placing it neatly on the table. Sadie likes things organized, even when she’s hungry.

  “Mine just purred like a kitten,” Isabel said with her mouth full. Sadie and I giggled at that, but Isabel didn’t mind. She’s almost never embarrassed. “It’s happy because I’m already feeding it,” she explained, and took another big bite of her sandwich.

  I peeked into my bag and saw the special surprise I’d brought for my friends. I’d almost forgotten about it. Now I was extra glad that I had enough to share. “I got us a treat,” I said. “Fruit strips for everyone!”

  “Yum,” Isabel said, reaching for one. “Thanks!” Luckily Dad had packed three of the same flavor, so we didn’t have to fight over who got which kind.

  “I’ll share my raisins,” Sadie said, shaking the box. She poured out a pile for each of us. We both looked at Isabel. “You should share something too,” Sadie said. “Then it’s fair, right?”

  Isabel pulled her string cheese into three equal parts, and handed one piece to Sadie and one to me. I bit into the cheese and felt it squeak between my teeth.

  I chewed happily. Sharing felt good. This new system was way better than fighting or worrying.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Banana how my idea had saved the day.

  “So what animal should we do our report on?” Isabel asked.

  Sadie had her mouth full of peanut butter, so I spoke up first. “I was thinking we should do it on giant pandas. We could talk about how they’re endangered and might go extinct.”

  “That sounds perfect!” Isabel said, folding a strand of cheese into a heart.

  But Sadie swallowed hard. “I want us to do it on zebras,” she said. “Or the miniature horses.”

  I considered that. “I love horses,” I said. “And zebras, too. But the pandas are special because there aren’t very many of them, especially in the wild. And if people don’t do something about it, soon there won’t be any left at all.”

  “It’s so sad,” Isabel said. “We need to protect them.”

  “We can’t do our project on pandas,” Sadie said, putting down her sandwich. “That’s not following the rules.”

  “What rules?” Isabel said.

  “Our rules,” Sadie said. “We promised to do everything fairly.”

  I thought about how to make it fair. “Maybe we should vote on it,” I suggested.

  Sadie shook her head. “Then you guys will both vote for pandas and I won’t really get a say. That’s not fair to me.”

  “Choosing zebras isn’t fair for everyone either,” Isabel point
ed out.

  “Right,” Sadie said. “Exactly. So we have to choose an animal that’s nobody’s favorite.”

  They both went quiet.

  “Okay,” I said. “So, what do we all like equally? Otters?” Isabel frowned. “Sloths?” I suggested. Sadie wrinkled her nose.

  “How about crocodiles?” Isabel said. “We all liked those okay.”

  I looked at Sadie. She looked at Isabel. Isabel looked at me.

  I stared down at my fruit strip. It didn’t have any better solutions. “I guess so,” I said.

  “Fine,” Sadie agreed.

  “Crocodiles it is, then,” Isabel said. She didn’t sound excited about it either.

  I still wanted to do our report on pandas. The things we had learned about them were really interesting, and I knew it would make a cool project. But as my Nana sometimes says, you can’t always get what you want.

  At least we were all equally disappointed. That was fair . . . right?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Walky-Talky

  On the bus ride back to school I slid into a seat with Isabel like I’d promised, and Sadie took the seat right in front of us. She tried turning around to talk with us a couple of times, but after getting yelled at twice by the bus driver, she gave up and stayed facing forward. Luckily we knew it would be a short trip.

  Isabel took out a book and we huddled close so we could read it together. When she was ready to turn a page, she nodded once to show she was done, and waited for me to finish too. I didn’t race to keep up though. I just read at my own pace. I knew Isabel wouldn’t judge me for being slower.

  It was a good book with ballerinas in it, and I wished Sadie could be reading it too. But as we reached the school parking lot, I heard her laughing with her seatmate, Jesmyn, who was in Ms. Dandino’s class with us last year. And she was all smiles as the three of us got off the bus and said good-bye. I hoped there’d be someone nice like Jesmyn on our next trip, when it would be my turn to be the one to sit apart.

  When I got home, Banana was waiting for me at the door. She wanted to hear all about the zoo, and she also wanted a walk. I clipped her leash onto her collar and we set out around the block.

  As we walked, I told Banana about the animals I’d seen, from the fuzzy little baby monkey that was riding on its mother’s back to the yellow-and-black leopard gecko that can shed its tail and grow a new one if it gets caught by a predator. Banana and I agreed that was a pretty cool trick.

  I described the rain-forest aquariums where the tree frogs live, and how the Monkey House smells like Chuck’s room, only ten times worse.

  I told her how we got to hear a lion roar, and Isabel roared back. Then Sadie and I did it too, and Isabel and Sadie got into a contest over who could do it better, and wanted me to judge.

  Banana looked worried. I guess she could tell where this was going.

  “They weren’t fighting, exactly,” I said. “Not really. But they were definitely fighting for my attention. I wish . . .” I sighed instead of finishing the thought. Banana nudged at my leg with her nose. I crouched down to pat her.

  “I know I’m lucky to have two best friends,” I said. “But sometimes it feels like I’m a prize they’re competing for, or a toy they’re tossing back and forth.”

  Banana wagged her tail hopefully at the word “toy.” That made me smile a little.

  “I worry that Sadie and Isabel are always wondering which of them I like best,” I said. “But I love them both. It’s like that rule we learned in math class, ‘You can’t compare apples and oranges.’ I can’t compare Sadies and Isabels. It’s like comparing apples and orangutans, or apes and oranges. How do you choose a favorite? They’re completely different things.”

  Banana put her two front paws on my knee, and leaned in to lick my face. I giggled and pulled back. She barked and licked me again insistently, like she was trying to tell me something important.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, lifting her floppy ears so they flew out to the sides like Dumbo’s. “You’ll always be my favorite Banana.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  You Choose, You Lose

  Chuck was in a good mood at dinner because his math test hadn’t been so hard after all, and because Dad and I had made tacos. Chuck loves tacos. Banana loves taco night too, because it’s very hard to bite into a taco without spilling its insides out the other end. Lots of yummy nibbles always drop to the floor for her to eat, especially around my chair. I’d already given her some kibble for dinner, but Banana thinks people food is most delicious.

  Dad asked Mom how her important meeting went, and Mom talked for a while about “visual impact” and “staying on message” and “increased market demand.” I only half listened while piling beans, corn, lettuce, and tomato into my next taco shell. I sprinkled shredded cheese over the top and smooshed it down, trying to seal in all the other layers. I took a bite. A bean escaped. Banana lunged for it.

  Mom loves talking with Dad about work stuff. She calls it “strategizing.” Strategizing is like planning, and my parents are big into plans. I thought about telling them Sadie’s and Isabel’s and my plan for making sure everything is exactly equal and fair, and how it worked really well except for when it maybe sort of didn’t, but there wasn’t a good moment to interrupt. My parents are not big into interrupting.

  Finally, Mom asked how my day went and I told them about all the animals I’d met. “I think I might want to be a zookeeper when I grow up,” I said. “Since I love taking care of animals. That seems even funner than being a vet.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dad said.

  “Yeah. And Banana can come to work with me. She’ll hang out at the petting zoo and get belly rubs from the visitors. And I’ll train the monkeys to throw her toys so she can play fetch with them when I’m busy.”

  “I bet you’d be an excellent zookeeper,” Mom said. “You certainly have a way with animals. Right, Banana?”

  Banana wagged yes and went under Mom’s chair to see if she’d dropped anything.

  As Chuck and I cleared the table, Dad announced that he’d gotten us a special treat for dessert. “I couldn’t resist when I saw the name of it,” he said. “It’s called monkey bread!”

  I giggled. “What’s monkey bread?” I asked.

  “It’s a kind of cake,” Dad said, “made with cinnamon and caramel and yeasty dough. Try it. I think you’ll like it.” He opened the bakery box and took out two slices. “They’re big, so I got one piece for Mom and me, and one for you and Chuck. You each get half.”

  “I claim the bigger half!” Chuck said.

  Mom shook her head. “You know the drill,” she said. “One person cuts, the other one chooses.”

  “I’ll cut,” I said quickly. “I’m sick of choosing.” I’d had enough of that already today.

  I sliced the monkey bread as close to down the middle as I could. It was gooey and soft, which made it hard to cut perfectly. Banana watched me with huge, hopeful eyes, like that might convince me to cut a third piece for her. I was tempted.

  One piece was slightly bigger, and Chuck reached out to take it. “Wait!” I said, lifting the plate to keep it away from him. I wanted to make a second cut to even out the pieces. But Chuck grabbed at it again. I jerked it away and before I could steady the plate, the smaller piece slid off and dropped straight into Banana’s mouth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gobble-Gobble

  “Oh no!” I cried as the monkey bread fell.

  Banana couldn’t believe her luck. She gobbled up the treat, practically swallowing it whole, before anyone could take it away from her. No one even tried.

  “Look what you did!” Chuck yelled.

  “Me? You did that!” I yelled back.

  “You were holding the plate!” he said.

  “You grabbed it and threw me off balance!” I said.

  “You dropped it!” Chuck shouted.

  “Arrrrrgh!” I screamed. I was so frustrated, I couldn’t even use words.
<
br />   “That’s enough, both of you,” Mom said. “If you keep this up, I’m going to give Banana the other half too.”

  I clamped my mouth shut. Chuck’s jaw dropped open. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  Mom crossed her arms. “Try me,” she said.

  I couldn’t handle any more of this. I pushed the plate toward Chuck. “Here,” I said. “It’s your slice. You called it. Just take it.”

  Chuck looked suspicious. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, eyeing the cake.

  “Nothing!” I said. I blinked hard, hoping I wouldn’t cry. “I’m just trying to be nice. I’m sick of bending over backwards to make everything fair, and everyone feeling left out and unhappy and fighting anyway. So I’ll just be the one left out and you can eat the stupid monkey bread. I don’t care. I give up.”

  My family held very still, like they thought the slightest movement might cause me to explode.

  They may have been right.

  Finally, Chuck took the plate. He picked up the knife from the table and cut the piece of monkey bread in two. “Here,” he said, handing me half. “We can share it.”

  I took the treat with one hand and wiped a tear from my face with the other. “Thanks,” I said.

  Chuck nodded. I took a small bite. Monkey bread was delicious.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fairer Than Fair

  After dessert, Mom and Chuck were on dishwashing duty, so Banana and I went into the living room to curl up on the couch with a book. It was hard to concentrate on reading, though. The words seemed to be swimming around on the pages and I couldn’t make them stay put. Even when I managed to catch a few, they wouldn’t sit still in my head.