Call Me Sunflower

by Miriam Spitzer Franklin

  “Maybe you ate too much Thanksgiving dinner,” Autumn said.

  “I think I have a stomach virus,” I said in a weak voice.

  “Actually,” Mom said, “you did leave a lot of food on your plate last night. Guess you’re coming down with something. Let’s hope it’s the twenty-four-hour version. All right, off to bed. I’ll be up with some tea and toast.”

  “Ohhh,” I said dramatically as I stood up, half bent-over, and walked slowly to the steps. I had to make this good. “Ohhh,” I groaned again as I made my way upstairs.

  “What about me?” Autumn asked. “We’re still going shopping, aren’t we?”

  “Sorry, hon. We’ll have to miss the sales. Your sister’s sick.”

  “Aww,” Autumn said. “I need some winter clothes!”

  I stopped groaning and turned around quickly. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine at home by myself.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mom said. “The shopping can wait.”

  “No, I mean it. Besides, I need you to pick up some sweaters for me.”

  “See?” Autumn said. “Sunny will be fine, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “You should go.”

  Mom looked over at me. “I’m not making any decisions right now. Go on upstairs and we’ll see how you’re feeling after a while.”

  I got undressed and climbed back into bed. Since the protest wasn’t until two, I’d have plenty of time to feel a little better … but not feel well enough to go shopping.

  A few hours later, with Autumn’s help, I somehow convinced Mom that I’d be all right on my own. When they left the house a little after one, I watched from my window until the car pulled out of the driveway. Then I jumped out of bed and started racing around the room as fast as I could.

  I pulled on jeans and my sweater, brushed my teeth, and ran my fingers through my hair. Not that it mattered what I looked like, since I’d be completely covered up anyway.

  My stomach churned from hunger and nerves. This had to work. It just had to!

  Sweat trickled down my back even though it was a cool November day as I rode my bike toward the shopping center. By the time I saw the parking lot up ahead, people were already gathering on the sidewalk. I turned into the strip mall on the side farthest from Luxury Furs. After locking my bike in the rack, I ran over to Earthly Goods where Lydia was waiting for me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  “Oh, it’s no problem.” Lydia grabbed the costume bag out of the backseat of their car. “I’m so glad you came! You can change right here, if you want.”

  I glanced around and shook my head. We were still too close to Luxury Furs and Leathers to feel safe. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure.” Lydia pushed open the door and waved at a man with longish hair and glasses. “Hi, Dad! This is Sunny.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “I’ve heard you’re going to be our raccoon,” he said with a smile.

  “Raccoon?” I asked. “I thought I was going to be a rabbit.”

  “We found someone else for the bunny costume,” Lydia explained. “But you’re small enough to be the raccoon.”

  I shrugged. “Okay,” I said as I made my way to the bathroom. I stepped into the suit and zipped it up as quick as I could. Then I put on the raccoon head.

  “You look great!” Lydia said when I came out. I could barely see her through the eye holes, and the suit was big and baggy. I wondered why Lydia had said they needed someone small for this costume.

  “I hope I don’t trip,” I said, but my voice came out muffled and Lydia couldn’t understand me.

  “Just don’t talk,” she said. “Follow me. I’ll tell you what to do.”

  I nodded, waved to Lydia’s dad as he called out “Good luck!” and carefully made my way down the sidewalk and up the hill where the protest was already under way.

  “Hi, Sunny!” Mrs. Applebaum greeted me as we walked up to the stack of signs on the grass. “Don’t worry about holding a sign. I think you’ll be more effective in that cage over there.”

  I looked over to where Mrs. Applebaum was pointing. A big wire cage sat on the ground with a sign beside it that said CAGED ANIMALS WAITING FOR DEATH.

  “I have to get inside that cage?” I asked, but it came out more like “Mwa mwa mwa mwa mwamwa mwa mwa?”

  “Sorry, honey,” Mrs. Applebaum said, “I can’t understand you with that mask on. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The protest won’t last long.”

  Now I got why Lydia had said I was the right size for the raccoon. If we kept to the schedule, I’d have to spend the next ninety minutes inside the cage. As I climbed inside the cramped quarters in my bulky suit, ninety minutes sounded like a really long time.

  But, as I looked out at the other protesters marching up and down the sidewalk with their signs, I realized this was my chance to be a real activist. I was finally speaking up for what I believed in, even if it meant I had to crouch down behind bars to do it.

  I was glad to see we had a good crowd. The line stretched all the way across Carson Boulevard. A few minutes later police cars pulled into the parking lot in front of Luxury Furs with their blue lights flashing.

  For a moment, I thought about my grandmother. Was she worried when she saw the lights? Maybe she was thinking about those fur coats hanging on the racks, seeing for the first time that a lot of animals had died horrible deaths to make them. If a bunch of people were willing to march outside her shop on a cold winter day, did it make her wonder if she was doing something wrong? Or did she still think we were just a bunch of animal rights fanatics who didn’t know what we were talking about?

  “How are you doing in there?” Lydia asked when she passed me.

  I gave her a thumbs up, or rather a paw up, to show that I was fine. Well, maybe not fine, exactly. I finally understood why people get claustrophobia. But I’d stay in the cage all day if it would get the reporters’ attention.

  “Don’t worry about the police,” Lydia told me. “They’re here to make sure there’s not any trouble.”

  I wanted to ask Lydia if her mom had arranged the interview, but it was impossible to talk with the raccoon head on. So I just nodded again, crossing my fingers inside my costume as Lydia marched past. Channel Two, Channel Seven, and Channel Twenty-Eight interviewed Darlene for the six o’clock news. A newspaper reporter showed up, too, flashing his camera in my direction.

  “Only ten more minutes of protesting,” Lydia’s mom announced to everyone after her interviews were done. Then she kneeled down next to me. “Guess what, Sunny? A reporter from Channel Seven is waiting to speak with you.”

  “With me?” My heart sped up. It was all working out, exactly like I’d planned!

  Mrs. Applebaum nodded as she helped me out of the cage. “They wanted to talk to the animal in the cage, especially after I told them you were only in middle school. Right over there,” she said, pointing to a white van with the words CHANNEL SEVEN NEWS on the side. “Are you nervous?”

  I pulled off my animal head. “Um, yeah.” I bit my lip. This was it. If I did a good job with the interview, everything could change.

  “Well, just relax,” Mrs. Applebaum said, squeezing my hand through the costume. “Take a few deep breaths. You’ll do great!”

  “Thanks,” I said. Slowly, I walked toward the cameras. I felt like I was in one of those movie scenes where the hero walks off into the sunset triumphantly. But I couldn’t hold on to the image for long. I could just as easily be the tragic hero walking to my doom.

  “Sunny?” Lydia called from behind me.

  I turned around and she ran over and threw her arms around me. “Good luck!”

  “I’m so proud of you,” Mrs. Applebaum called to me. “It takes a lot of courage to speak up for what you believe in.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled as I turned away from them both and continued toward where the TV reporters stood, waiting. I didn’t think Mrs. Applebaum would call m
e courageous if she knew I’d lied to my mom and was about to speak out against my own grandmother. There was probably a better word to describe me. I’m sure it wasn’t a good one.

  The lump in my throat was about the size of a grapefruit now, making it hard to swallow. I had turned into one of those not-so-nice people who do whatever it takes to get what they want.

  As I neared the van, I saw a pretty lady with shiny, dark hair talking on her phone. She slipped the phone into the pocket of her jacket when she spotted me, thrusting out a hand to shake my raccoon paw. “Janine Turner,” she said with a smile. “And you must be Sunny Beringer, the young lady I’ll be interviewing today.”

  “Hi,” I managed to say. “I’ve never been on TV before, so I might really botch this.”

  Janine laughed. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. You know, this will be a wonderful human interest story. Grown-ups are always protesting one thing or another. But to find a child willing to stand up for something she believes in … well, that’s something quite special. People will be curious to hear what you have to say.”

  Right now, the only person who needed to hear me was my grandmother, but I didn’t tell Janine Turner that. I just nodded.

  “Okay. Let me jot down a few details,” she said, pulling out a notepad.

  “How old are you, Sunny?”

  “Eleven. I’ll be twelve next month.”

  “And what school do you go to?”

  “Evergreen Middle School. I’m in sixth grade.”

  Janine dropped her notepad on the seat of the van. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded. Ready as I’ll ever be.

  “Just act natural,” she said with a smile, then turned to the camera crew. “Okay, roll ’em!” She looked straight ahead and turned on her smooth broadcaster voice. Bright camera lights blinded me, and I blinked.

  “Today we have a sixth grader from Evergreen Middle School, Sunny Beringer, who came out as part of the Fur-Free Friday protest.” Janine turned to me. “We don’t see many eleven-year-olds joining protests, unless they’re with their parents. You came all by yourself. What made you decide to take a stand against fur?”

  “I love animals,” I said. My voice shook a little, matching my wobbly knees.

  “That’s certainly a good reason. Why did you decide to dress up in costume?”

  Now that was a tough one. I couldn’t tell them I did it so I’d end up on TV, or that I had to sneak out of the house to make my plan work—

  “You certainly got people thinking about the animals behind the furs,” Janine jumped right in.

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “I wanted people to think about the animals. The fur coats belong on their backs, not on ours.”

  “A very creative idea,” Janine said, nodding at me. “What would you like to tell all those folks out there who think it’s a luxury to wear fur?”

  “Think about the animals. We wouldn’t like it if someone killed us for our skin, so we shouldn’t kill animals for their fur. It’s definitely not a luxury for them.”

  “If you could speak to the owner of Luxury Furs and Leathers, what would you say to her?”

  I squared my shoulders and stared straight into the camera. “I’d tell the owner that what she’s doing should be against the law. Anyone who owns a fur store and says they’re only trying to make people happy is a big liar. The owners who sell the furs are just as bad as those people who trap the animals and murder them for money.”

  “Wow, that’s certainly a strong statement from a young girl. One who’s fully committed to helping protect animals. Thank you for talking with us today.” Then Janine turned back to the cameras. “This is Janine Turner with Sunny Beringer, live from Evergreen Plaza shopping center in Bennetsville.”

  The cameraman turned his lights off. “Nice job,” Janine said with a wink. “Are you sure this is your first time on TV?”

  “Positive,” I said.

  “You’re a real pro. Watch Channel Seven at six tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said as she climbed into her WAXZ van. “You know the owner of Luxury Furs and Leathers?”

  She looked back at me. “Yes?”

  “She’s my grandmother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  How are you feeling?” Mom asked as she dropped her bags on the coffee table later that afternoon. I’d changed quickly and raced home, arriving twelve minutes before she and Autumn had pulled into the driveway.

  “I’m fine,” I said, though I was pretty much the opposite.

  “You look much better,” Mom said. “You got dressed, and everything.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I looked down at my jeans. I’d forgotten I had been in pajamas when they left.

  “Have you eaten anything?”

  “I’m not hungry.” I tried to look a little green again, which wasn’t difficult.

  “Look what I got,” Autumn said, not worried about me at all. She emptied her bags onto the floor.

  After Autumn showed me her new sweaters, she sat on the sofa to watch TV with me for a while, then headed up to her room. I kept watching the large hands of the grandfather clock.

  The front door opened at five-thirty and in walked Grandma Grace. I couldn’t even look at her. The empty feeling in my stomach turned into an ache. It was like how I felt after I’d walked away from Lydia at the lunch table, except about a hundred times worse.

  “Guess what?” Grandma Grace said, dropping into her favorite recliner. “I’m going to be on the six o’clock news tonight.”

  Mom looked up from her laptop. “They interviewed you?”

  “Sure did,” Grandma Grace said. “I’m going to be a celebrity.”

  “Um, what channel?” I asked.

  “Channel Two. WCNC.”

  I sucked in my breath. If Grandma Grace was being interviewed on Channel Two, we might miss my interview on Channel Seven! “Are you sure it’s not Channel Seven? They always cover important stories.”

  “I wish they’d all interviewed me, but Channel Two was the only one.”

  There was only one solution. I’d have to control the remote. I reached for it and hid it behind the sofa cushions.

  “Autumn! Come on down!” Mom called a few minutes later. “It’s time for Grandma Grace’s debut!”

  “Now where’s that remote?” Grandma Grace said.

  “Here it is!” I pulled it from behind the sofa cushion, took a deep breath and flipped to Channel Seven.

  Mom gave me a funny look. “Channel Two, remember?”

  “Here, I’ll take that,” said Grandma Grace.

  Now, what? I could only hope that all the stations weren’t covering the story at the same time. Or that someone else would see me on TV and tell my grandmother about it. I’d come this far—my plan couldn’t fail because of a remote, could it?

  I chewed on my fingernails while we sat through the national news, unimportant stuff about deficits and budgets. Then the words “Fur-Free Friday” flashed on the screen and I bit my finger by mistake.

  “Here it is!” Grandma Grace shouted. “Some fool even dressed up in an animal suit!”

  “Shh, listen,” Mom said.

  Mrs. Applebaum was being interviewed. “We’re out here today to let people know how cruel the fur industry is.”

  Grandma Grace shook her head and clicked her tongue. “That woman has caused nothing but trouble since she moved to Bennetsville. She should have stayed in California with all the other nutcases.”

  I had one leg crossed over the other, my foot tapping up against the coffee table. When Grandma Grace said “the other nutcases,” my leg jerked into the air. Tea from Grandma Grace’s glass spilled onto the table.

  “Oops, sorry!” I watched as the tea soaked into the magazines. I got up from the sofa to get a towel. Grandma Grace didn’t even notice.

  “Look!” Mom said, moving her head to see around me. “It’s Grandma Grace!”

  I sank to the floor and turned to watch. I didn’t hear the reporter’s question b
ecause I was too busy thinking of what to do next. I had to get my hands on that remote as soon as she stopped talking, to at least catch the end of my interview on the other channel. If she heard the answer to the last question I’d been asked, it would be enough.

  “Trappers keep wildlife populations in healthy balance,” Grandma Grace was saying when I looked up at the TV. “Trapping is a good way to control rabies and other destructive problems caused by overpopulation. Animals were created to provide food and clothing for mankind.”

  “How about these people out here who don’t think you should sell furs—the ones claiming cruelty to animals?” the reporter asked.

  “I would say to them that they’re lucky to live in a country where they can voice their opinions. We live in America, the land of freedom of speech and freedom of choice. It gives me the right to open my store and allow people the luxury of a beautiful fur coat for those who would like one.”

  “My grandma’s going to be famous!” Autumn said when the interview was over. Grandma Grace beamed.

  I didn’t waste any time, lunging for the remote that now sat on the coffee table.

  “Let’s see what the other channels had to say.”

  I flipped to Channel Seven and heard a familiar voice. Mine.

  “What in the world …” Grandma Grace sounded shocked as she leaned forward to hear better.

  I stared straight ahead and practiced breathing. In, out. Inhale, exhale. I glanced up to see a big picture of myself dressed in the raccoon suit with the head in my hands. Hair was sticking up all over and I looked plain silly as I stared at the camera. At the bottom of the screen were the words “Sunflower Beringer, granddaughter of Grace Beringer, owner of Luxury Furs and Leathers.”

  “Sunny?” Mom sounded stunned.

  “Well, I never,” Grandma Grace muttered.

  “Look, you’re on TV!” Autumn said, practically falling off the sofa.

  The remote slipped from my hand and fell to the floor.

  None of us said a word during the interview. No one moved an inch either. I think my blood actually stopped flowing as I sat there watching myself on the screen.