Alpaca My Bags

by Jenny Goebel

  “Please don’t tell me you ate turtle eggs.” Cat groaned, but it had a playful sound to it. “Like Brian did in Hatchet.”

  “What? No! Never!” I said. Then the bus was chugging forward again and the moment for decision was over.

  We talked all the way into town and got off near the Train Car and Carousel of Wonder. I felt a wave of longing. I badly wanted to ride Sugar Plum again. Still, Cat and I were just starting to get along. I didn’t want to spoil it by doing something that made me appear babyish. For the most part, I could shake off Ryan’s insults. But Cat was different. She mattered far more.

  A couple other students stepped off the bus with us, the usual crowd that clung to Ryan’s side. I was about to say goodbye and let Cat catch up with her group when she looped her arm through mine. “Since there’s no ski and snowboard meeting today, want to grab some mini doughnuts with me—they’re seriously good—and then we can ride the carousel?”

  It was an offer far too good to pass up, and Cat was right about the doughnuts. We split a half dozen of “the works.” They came buried in rich whipped cream, caramel sauce, chocolate, powdered sugar, and sprinkles. They were delicious.

  After polishing off the last one, we practically skipped next door to the Carousel of Wonder. I hadn’t seen Cat’s grandmother since she found out I was related to her granddaughter. I was worried she’d treat me differently now that she knew.

  “Catherine Alexandria Winter,” Cat’s grandma said the moment we walked through the door.

  I held my breath, half expecting her to chastise Cat for hanging out with me. Instead, she said, “What is all over your face?”

  Cat giggled and licked a spot of chocolaty whipped cream from her upper lip.

  “You ordered the works again, didn’t you?” Carol said, somehow sounding both teasing and exasperated.

  “It was necessary,” Cat replied. “Amelia Jean has never had the Train Car’s mini doughnuts before.”

  “Hmm, I suppose,” Carol said. “Go on in and see Dan.”

  We raced to the back of the building, where we found Dan propped up by his cane. “Girls!” he said. “Please tell me you’ve come to ride. You’re always so busy with school and that team, Cat. I hardly see you anymore.”

  Cat planted a kiss on his stubbly cheek. “No team meeting today, and you know we came to ride, Dan. Crank up the Wurlitzer.”

  I climbed on Sugar Plum’s back, and Cat hoisted herself upon the nearby dolphin with the ring of flowers around its neck. The carousel sprang to life and the organ belted out a rollicking tune. We whirled around the room, rising and falling along with the menagerie of animals while Dan danced on the center platform, using his cane as a partner. Carol laughed and cheered as she watched from the vestibule.

  If I thought riding the carousel was magical before, it was nothing compared to experiencing it with friends. My heart felt swollen with joy as the music filled my ears, and I grew dizzy from spinning and from feeling so carefree. When the ride was over, Cat and I walked out of the building, arms linked again, our conversation bubbly and light.

  I hadn’t taken more than two steps when I made eye contact with my father from across the parking lot. He clutched a bag of groceries to his chest. The rest of the world was in motion all around, but it was like someone had hit the pause button just on him.

  I smiled. No, that’s not right. I was already smiling, but I held my lips curled in an upward position when I met his stare. I waved.

  It seemed unnaturally delayed, but he raised a hand in return.

  “I-I’ve got to go,” I told Cat, and pointed. “That’s my ride, but he wasn’t expecting me to be here. He’s my dad. So, that makes him your, um, uncle.”

  Cat’s smile faltered. I could tell she was scoping him out, searching for similarities between him and the mother who’d only ever existed for her in pictures.

  “Do you want to meet him?” I asked.

  Cat worried her bottom lip. She seemed pensive as she unlocked her arm from mine and absently rubbed her fingers together. At last, she shook her head. “Not yet … I mean, I do want to meet him. Just, maybe some other time?”

  “Okay,” I said. I thought I understood. She’d already put herself out there by opening up to my brothers and then befriending me. She probably wasn’t ready to let her guard down for all of us at once, though. She had to do it by degrees. That way, there were fewer of us to lose if we abandoned her again. The idea turned my stomach. I couldn’t think about leaving now. Leaving was months away. “See ya at school tomorrow, then?” I said cheerfully.

  A smiled bounced back onto her face. “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Cat said jokingly.

  Watching for cars, I darted across the lot. “Dad!” I said when I reached him.

  He snapped out of whatever had held him in suspended animation like that. He frowned. “I thought you were going for a jog after school today, and to the ranch.”

  I shook my head, wondering why he sounded so put out. “I mean, I was, but I didn’t. I got doughnuts at the Train Car and rode the carousel with Cat instead.”

  “Cat?”

  “Catherine,” I said. “She prefers to go by Cat.”

  “So that was her, huh? Catherine’s daughter.” Dad peered around me, trying to get a better look, but she’d already gone back inside the Carousel of Wonder. “I’d like to say hello to my niece. To Cat,” he said, trying out her name. “Maybe we can spare a few minutes. Your mom will understand.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said reluctantly.

  Dad balked. “Why not?”

  “Because she said she wanted to meet you, but not today.”

  Dad exhaled heavily and cast me a weak smile. “Fine. Another time, then.” His expression grew stern as he switched gears. “Honey, you can’t change your plans like that without letting me or your mother know.”

  “But—”

  “I’m glad you and your cousin are getting to know each other,” he said. “And I understand that change is hard. You’ve been forced through a lot of it lately—we all have. Still, Amelia Jean, now that your mom and I aren’t around you all day, you have to learn to communicate what’s going on with you and your life outside our family.” His voice grew tight. “You can’t just be wandering around Winterland doing whatever you want whenever you please.”

  I dropped my gaze and nodded.

  He sighed deeply. “I spoke with Ms. Horton today.”

  My eyes shot back to his. So that’s why he was in such a bad mood. “And?”

  “And I explained that we’re going through some big life adjustments. I apologized for not getting back to her sooner and scheduled the interview for tomorrow. We’ll go after your mom and I get off work.”

  The mini doughnuts caked in sugar curdled and sank in my belly. I didn’t say anything as I climbed in the cab of the truck and Dad slid behind the wheel. Maybe if I ignored what he said, the interview would go away.

  “Oh, and I want you to skip jogging to the ranch.”

  “What?” I felt the blood drain from my face. The interview was bad enough. I’d already missed working at the ranch today. I couldn’t miss going two days in a row.

  “I’m sorry, Amelia Jean. I can’t trust you to keep track of time. You were supposed to be back last night before we got home from work, and you weren’t. Don’t think I didn’t notice. So tomorrow, I want you to go straight to the trailer and wait until your mom and I get there. We can’t be late to the interview.”

  Granted, I had been late the night before. But I knew I could get back in time, if he’d give me another chance to prove myself. “Can’t I just—”

  “No,” Dad said, digging in his heels. “School and family come first. No work tomorrow. End of discussion.”

  The tense mood in the car didn’t go away when we picked up Mom at the deli, but she seemed oblivious to it. She blathered on about the lunch rush and running out of provolone cheese. Meanwhile, I stewed over the impending interview and how it would spoi
l my afternoon the next day, if not my entire school experience. I couldn’t bring myself to regret hanging out with Cat, even if it had meant skipping the ranch. But now that I had an actual friend, the prospect of being sent back to elementary school was even more terrible.

  Annie ran up as we pulled in close to the Gnarly Banana. She rubbed against Dad’s leg as he stepped out of the cab. She wagged her tail and walked beside Dad as he made his way toward the trailer. Dad ignored her.

  She seemed desperate for attention, and I felt guilty for missing our run. With all that was on my mind, there wasn’t room for trivial things like remembering we weren’t supposed to have given the dog a name. “Come here, Annie,” I called.

  Dad whirled around. The expression on his face registered shock and something else … a feeling of betrayal? Then he shook his head as he proceeded into the trailer.

  Oops, I thought as I scratched behind Annie’s ears and she stared up at me appreciatively.

  Mom, who’d been silent as she witnessed the exchange, said, “Annie, huh? I like it.” She gave me a sad smile before following Dad’s footsteps into the trailer.

  Cat and I picked up right where we’d left off the afternoon before. School didn’t seem so awful and long when I had someone to sit with, laugh with, and share stories with at lunch, and when my entire literature circle wanted me to talk about wilderness survival because I’d had more experience with the great outdoors than any of them.

  When I got overwhelmed with the attention and busted out a Tolkien quote, “I am at home among trees,” there was a moment of awkward silence.

  Then Cat said, “Cool.” And Mia, Isiah, and Sophie broke out grins that were friendly, not mocking.

  If it wasn’t for the nagging sense of dread that I carried around with me, it would’ve been a good day—one that even Ryan couldn’t ruin, as hard as he tried. He had an insult ready when I hopped out of my bus seat. There was another ski and snowboard meeting, and Cat and the rest of the team were riding the bus into town. While I made my way forward to get off near the RV park, Ryan said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, Brows, are you going off into the wild to join the other hairy beasts?”

  I’m proud to say his insult bounced off my newly minted armor. I barely flinched. As promised, Cat bolted upright, ready to come to my defense. But I motioned for her to sit back down.

  “That’s funny, Ryan. You don’t know how right you are,” I replied coolly, and raised my awesome eyebrows at him.

  He didn’t have a comeback for that, which only made me smile. I wasn’t sure where the sudden swell of courage had come from. Scratch that. I knew exactly where it came from. I glanced at Cat, and she beamed at me. It came from having friends.

  The day felt like a win. So much so that I was able to finally quell the most worrisome thoughts about the upcoming interview. I thought my grades were decent. And I was finding my groove with the other seventh graders—at least in Ms. Windle’s class. With Mom and Dad backing me up, the interview was sure to go without a hitch. In fact, I felt so confident that I had everything back under control that I made a snap decision—if I hurried to the ranch and back, Dad would never have to know. I had plenty of time until he and Mom would be home. Really, it was silly—a waste of time even—for me not to go to the ranch.

  The sun was shining brightly and there was a welcome breeze while Annie and I jogged. As we approached the ranch, I appreciated the way the wild grasses swayed in the gentle wind, and how the alpacas seemed extra peaceful today. Julie appeared to be the only one around. I spotted her in a pasture trimming Ed’s toenails as he messily chomped on hay.

  I tied Annie to the porch post and went to join her. “Good timing!” she said. “Ed here is oblivious.” She placed Ed’s two-toed foot back on solid ground. “But would you mind distracting Carl while I clip his nails? He always tries to grab the nail trimmer out of my hands.”

  Julie showed me how to hold Carl’s head and pet his neck while she lifted his feet. Since alpacas have only two toes on each foot, they have a total of eight toenails. So the trimming was quick, and I didn’t have to worry much about Carl losing interest in the neck scratching and moving on to something else—like stealing the clippers or chewing on my hair.

  I helped her with Benny next, and then Lulu, although neither of them seemed to need much distracting. While Julie trimmed, I told her about riding the carousel with Cat and the mini doughnuts we shared. Julie looked up from what she was doing to smile at me. She didn’t say anything, but I knew what she was thinking. She was happy to hear I was making friends.

  When she released Lulu’s last foot from her grip, she said, “I saved this group for last. They’re always the easiest. Some of the others had to be restrained. It’s been dry for so long and that makes their toenails harder to clip. We really need some rain.”

  “Did you have to restrain Sky?” I asked.

  “I did. It’s not as bad as it sounds, though. I harnessed her and tied her to a post. It’s a little more work for me, but none of the alpacas really seem to mind it. And it’s important that their nails get trimmed so they don’t have any foot problems.”

  “Is she in the barn still?” I asked.

  Julie flashed me another smile and said, “She is. Do you want to return these nail trimmers for me and go see her?”

  “Sure. But only for a little while. I have to leave early today, and I want to get some work done on the fence.” I took the trimmers from her outstretched hands and made a beeline for the barn. As soon as I’d laid the trimmers on the tool bench, I went to see Sky. She didn’t really look pregnant—although I wasn’t sure what a pregnant alpaca would look like. Maybe it was hard to tell. Maybe that was why a spit-off had been necessary.

  As I approached the gate, she avoided eye contact with me. “Hi, Sky,” I said. I undid the latch and slipped inside. She hummed nervously. Her gray fleece appeared extra fluffy and soft. Her long eyelashes easily rivaled Lulu’s. I so badly wanted to pet her, but I didn’t want her to fear me. I took one step forward, and she took one step back.

  “Okay,” I said, and halted my approach. “Not yet, but I won’t give up on you.”

  Samson, on the other hand, bounded right up to me without an ounce of fear. I’d have sworn that he’d grown an inch taller already. I petted him through the pen and noted what bad shape this part of the fence was in. I needed to finish the section I was working on first, but these rails would be my next priority.

  I managed to replace three rotting boards in the same amount of time it’d taken me to replace one the first day. I might’ve been able to swap out another three if I hadn’t been short on time. I quickly cleaned up after myself, then set off to find Julie to let her know I was leaving.

  When I returned to the pastures, she was nowhere in sight. I wandered around, looking for her, until eventually, I found myself at the sunroom. I creaked open the door and stepped inside. “Julie?” I called, my voice carrying deeper inside the house. No answer. I circled the room. She’d made progress on the rug being woven on the loom. The colorful yarns were still organized in an appealing rainbowlike manner. I lightly ran my fingers across them. Then I noticed tubs on a table that hadn’t been there before.

  The first tub held a pile of multicolored fleece—swirls of red, purple, green, and blue. I couldn’t resist plunging both hands into the tub, expecting the soft cloudlike feel of Julie’s scarves. Instead, the pile of fibers was wet.

  I raised my fingers to my face. My fingers were wet. Wet with swirls of red, purple, green, and blue. I gasped just as Julie walked through the door. “Sorry, Amelia, I was on the phone with Heath. He—” Julie stopped talking when she saw my hands. “Oh dear.”

  I was worried Julie would be mad. “I didn’t mean to,” I said, “I thought—” I couldn’t finish because Julie busted out her silvery laughter. She bent at the middle, her body quaking with amusement.

  I stood with my hands dripping over the tub, waiting for her to stop.

&nb
sp; “That’s not going to come off for a while,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “It’s permanent dye.”

  My stomach somersaulted. “It won’t come off?”

  Julie, reading my distress, grew somber in an instant. “I’m sorry, Amelia, I shouldn’t have laughed. If you could only see yourself, though—like catching a toddler with her hands in the cookie jar.” Julie suppressed another giggle.

  I tried to smile while I bit back panic. “Isn’t there something that can be done?” I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t supposed to be here today. Or that I had an important interview in less than an hour and had no idea how well rainbow-colored hands would go over.

  “We’ll give it a try, okay?” Julie said. She whipped up a mixture of baking soda and water, and I scrubbed my hands vigorously at the kitchen sink. The bright colors faded. They didn’t go away. After five minutes of water and soap, water and soap, and me anxiously watching the clock above the stove, I gave up.

  I held out until the last possible minute, but it was time. Annie kept the rope between us pulled tight as we ran to the RV park. She helped me maintain a swift pace while my mind was occupied. I’d been wearing a scarf practically nonstop despite the heat. Would gloves be a step too far? Otherwise, I’d have to fess up to making a stupid mistake. One I didn’t think would help much when I tried to convince Principal Stinger I was a mature seventh grader.

  I remembered my mittens, packed away in the extra storage bin at the front of the trailer, and pushed even harder to get there. The parking space next to the trailer was empty. I cut Annie loose and made a sprint for it.

  While I was fumbling with the latch on the bin, I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel road behind me. My blood pulsed at the same time a nervous giggle bubbled in my throat. My dread was rising, but it was tamped down by the humorous thought that I was literally about to be caught red-handed.