Zoobreak Read online

  Ben’s head bobbled upright. “I’m awake!” He peered out the window. “Wow, look at this place!”

  The main house was a gray stone castle, complete with turrets and towering balconies.

  Melissa peered through her hair curtain. “Is that the zoo?”

  “Nice crib!” Darren exclaimed. “I wish I was an animal!”

  “You are,” Griffin pointed out. “A pig.”

  “That’s not fair,” Savannah protested. “Pigs are highly intelligent, sensitive creatures.”

  “All Aboard Animals is a floating zoo,” Mr. Martinez reminded them. “Look, everybody —”

  The bus crested a rise, and the gleaming waters of Long Island Sound stretched out before them. Moored at the wooden wharf was a large boat that resembled a Mississippi River steamer, long and rectangular, with a paddle wheel at the stern.

  The bus parked behind two others, and Mr. Martinez led his students down the path onto the dock. As they waited for the class ahead of them to file down the gangway, Griffin noted that the paddle-wheel steamer didn’t look quite as spiffy as it had from a distance. The paint that wasn’t peeling was considerably faded. And close up they could see that the pictures of jungle cats, elephants, and giraffes on the hull were merely decals.

  Savannah was frowning. “No way is there a giraffe on this ship. Even a baby would have its head sticking right through the roof. And an elephant? It would probably break through the deck.”

  Finally, it was their turn to go aboard. The first thing Griffin noticed as he stepped inside the hatch was an overpowering foul smell. Heads retreated into shoulders; fingers came up to hold noses.

  As usual, Darren was the first to find his very nasal voice. “Ugh! What hit this place — a stink bomb the size of California?”

  Only Savannah was unaffected. “What a bunch of babies. Animals have a smell, just like people do. We just don’t notice our own. But,” she added disapprovingly, “it’s possible that the cages aren’t being cleaned as often as they should be.”

  The interior of the paddleboat was cramped, airless, and badly lit. They were greeted by Mr. Nastase, the manager. He was a tall, cadaverous man in a hand-tailored suit with shirt cuffs that set off his impeccable manicure. Even his haircut looked expensive.

  “Welcome to All Aboard Animals,” he intoned. “You stand on the threshold of an incredible adventure….” His speech was dramatic, but it was obvious he’d given it ten thousand times, and it bored him mightily.

  Savannah couldn’t hold back her curiosity. She waved her hand right under his pointed nose, but he ignored her, studiously focusing on a rivet in the bulkhead behind the class. Finally, she blurted out, “Mr. Nastase, exactly what kind of animals do you have here?”

  “I’m glad you asked me that,” the zookeeper deadpanned, smoothing down a thin mustache that was shaped like the apex of the Great Pyramid and looking anything but glad. “You will see animals that will astound you, animals from the four corners of the earth….” He droned on for some time about what they were going to see. When it was over, he still hadn’t mentioned a single animal.

  Even Mr. Martinez was becoming impatient with the man. “How about a little hint?” he asked.

  Mr. Nastase drew himself up to a tall, gaunt height. “I will not spoil your voyage of discovery.” He disappeared into a small cabin marked OFFICE.

  The class followed Mr. Martinez through a low hatch and gathered around the first exhibit. There, a dim bulb cast a yellowish glow into a small mesh cage. Inside cowered a beady-eyed furry creature that would have fit in the palm of any of their hands.

  “A chipmunk?” Pitch exclaimed in disbelief. “I almost stepped on one of these on the way to school this morning! This is from the four corners of my yard, not the four corners of the earth.”

  Savannah shushed her sharply. “Animals may not speak our language, but they can sense if you don’t respect them. He has feelings, you know.”

  “This is only the first exhibit,” soothed Mr. Martinez. “I’m sure they have more exciting things to show us. Let’s reserve judgment until we’ve seen the entire collection.”

  They continued their tour of the paddle-wheel steamer and its caged exhibits. The closer they got to the heart of the ship, the more the smells and the stale air intensified.

  There were some interesting animals — a meerkat, a prairie dog, a chuckwalla, and a great horned owl, which opened one big yellow eye and looked baleful at their interruption. But they all seemed undersized and listless. And the rest of the collection was incredibly ordinary, an assortment of hamsters, frogs, garter snakes, turtles, mice, and a ferret that was either very young or just plain puny. A sickly chicken marched nervously around a cage marked FARM ANIMALS, next door to a skin-and-bones piglet.

  The class wandered among the displays in stunned silence.

  Ben tapped Griffin on the shoulder. “Is it just me, or is this place really, really lame?”

  “This place would have to rise up five hundred percent to improve to lame,” Griffin agreed. “Look at Mr. Martinez. I don’t think he’s too thrilled.”

  “Never mind him,” said Ben. “Check out Savannah.”

  Savannah Drysdale was so outraged that she actually radiated heat. She darted from cage to cage, and each new discovery twisted her face further out of shape.

  “This habitat hasn’t been cleaned in days!” she seethed. “The water is dirty and brackish! The ferret cage is half the size it should be! How can a growing baby develop muscle tone without room enough to turn around? The meerkat and chuckwalla need extra heat! The loon barely has a feather left! The beaver is high and dry!”

  Griffin stepped in front of her. “Savannah — take a breath —”

  “I’m not going to breathe!” she insisted. “None of the animals can breathe in this torture chamber! Why should we breathe?”

  At that moment, Mr. Nastase appeared beside the owl enclosure. “Is there a problem?”

  “This whole place is a problem!” Savannah couldn’t hold herself back — she was genuinely fuming. “It’s too dark; it’s not properly ventilated; the animals are neglected, undernourished —”

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken, young lady,” the zookeeper said stiffly, his deep frown forming the lines of his mustache into an arrowhead. “Perhaps you’ll be happier with our newest addition, our pride and joy.” He led the group through a hatch to a smaller cabin, which held a single cage.

  Griffin could already hear the sound of wild scrambling from within that enclosure, followed by excited animal chatter.

  The scream that came from Savannah was barely human.

  5

  “Cleo!!”

  Savannah bounded across the cabin and pressed her face against the mesh of the cage. The capuchin monkey nuzzled up to her, screeching wildly.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here.” She wheeled on the zookeeper, eyes shooting sparks. “What are you doing with my monkey?”

  His mustache was nearly two vertical lines. “There must be a misunderstanding. Eleanor is our latest attraction at All Aboard Animals.”

  “She’s not Eleanor, she’s Cleopatra! And she’s mine!”

  “My dear —”

  “I’m not your dear! You stole my monkey!”

  Mr. Martinez stepped between them. “What’s going on here? Savannah — you had a monkey?”

  “She even got a traffic ticket,” Ben put in helpfully.

  “I still have her!” Savannah insisted. “She’s right here! Can’t you see how she responds to me?”

  “Capuchins are excitable,” Mr. Nastase lectured. “Of course Eleanor became agitated when you pressed so close to the cage. You were invading her space. You obviously have a lot to learn about animals.”

  A gasp went up from the class. At age eleven, Savannah knew more about animals than most zoology professors did.

  She turned anxiously to her teacher. “Mr. Martinez, aren’t you going to help me? This floating dungeon has no right to keep
Cleopatra! She’s mine!”

  Mr. Martinez looked profoundly disturbed. “Are you absolutely sure of this?”

  “Yes! A hundred percent!”

  “That’s not possible,” Mr. Nastase said confidently. “Eleanor has been with us for months. We have the paperwork — a bill of sale — to prove it. All capuchins look alike, and there are no distinguishing marks or physical abnormalities on Eleanor. I sympathize that you seem to have lost your own monkey, dear girl, but she is not our Eleanor.”

  “Not true!” Savannah stormed. “You stole Cleo right out of my yard!”

  Mr. Martinez was at a complete loss about what to do. “He has a bill of sale —”

  “So he says,” Savannah scoffed. “I haven’t seen it. And even if I do see it, I won’t believe it, because it’ll be fake!”

  Mr. Nastase made an elaborate show of checking his watch. “My goodness, where did the time go? Oh, yes, it was wasted on slander and accusation. Your tour is over.” His brow clouded menacingly. “Now.”

  Savannah looked beseechingly at her teacher, but Mr. Martinez shook his head sadly. “I want to help you, but the school can’t get involved with this. You’ll have to talk to your parents.”

  “Cleo can’t stay here!” Savannah protested. “This place is a germ factory! She’ll get sick! All these poor animals will, if they’re not sick already!” She grabbed the door of the monkey’s cage and began to heave on it. A padlock held it in place. In growing agitation, she tried to pick up the entire cage. It was bolted to the bulkhead and wouldn’t budge.

  The zookeeper watched her with alarm. “Klaus!” he called.

  The man who came running was at least a man and a half, with huge hands and enormous feet. Size 22 construction boots pounded the deck with every step.

  “Escort our guests ashore, please,” Mr. Nastase ordered. “And make sure they get back on their bus.”

  Klaus frowned at the clock. “There’s still twenty minutes to go,” he rumbled in a voice that sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

  “Not for this lot,” the zookeeper said coldly. “They’ve already caused disturbance enough.”

  Mr. Martinez gently but firmly pulled Savannah off the cage. Klaus began herding the visitors back through the exhibits toward the gangway.

  As they disembarked, they must have appeared totally cowed, because they drew stares from the student group waiting to go in next.

  “You guys are in for a treat,” Darren assured them.

  Savannah seemed to be planning a bull run back onto the paddleboat. “I can’t leave her!”

  Mr. Martinez held on to her arm. “I understand you’re upset,” he said firmly. “But maybe you were seeing Cleopatra there because you wanted it to be her. Going back will only create more of a scene.”

  Savannah shuffled and looked torn, offering neither excuse nor apology.

  The uncomfortable silence was broken by Griffin. “Mr. Martinez, I don’t know much about monkeys, but I know Savannah. If she says that’s Cleopatra, that’s good enough for me.”

  Ben stepped forward. “Me, too.”

  “They’re right,” said Pitch. “There’s no way that Mr. Nasty understands animals like Savannah. He’s got the crummiest zoo I’ve ever seen!”

  One by one, the students all expressed support for their classmate. Her record as an animal expert spoke for itself.

  Even Darren was supportive. “Much as I hate to agree with these knuckleheads, my money’s on Drysdale. That guy jacked the monkey.”

  All this only served to make Mr. Martinez feel more defensive. “I’m not disagreeing with any of you. But I’m not a policeman, and the school is not the Supreme Court. Savannah, you’re going to have to take this up with your parents. They’ll decide what to do.”

  Savannah was silent as the class boarded their bus for the drive back to Cedarville. Her eyes never left the scratched window and, beyond that, the paddleboat, where she knew Cleopatra was being held captive.

  Griffin watched her, a gnawing feeling deep in his stomach. Mr. Nastase said no, so it was no. Mr. Martinez said no, so it was no. Didn’t Savannah have rights?

  Beside him, Ben let out a tremulous yawn.

  Did any kid?

  6

  The SmartPick™ Rollo-Bushel threaded its way through the obstacle course of orange cones that its inventor had set up in the garage.

  Mr. Bing came to a halt and hopped off, looking pleased with himself. “You see? The platform swivels so it’s more maneuverable in the tight space of an orchard.”

  Griffin sat on one of the other prototypes that were lined up against the back wall. “Awesome, Dad,” he said listlessly.

  His father’s brow clouded. “So why doesn’t Daria Vader see that? She’s dragging her feet on submitting the paperwork. She thinks the Rollo-Bushel needs to be more unique to get approved by the patent office.”

  Griffin didn’t look up. “Great … great …”

  Mr. Bing frowned. “Guess I’m not the only one with problems.” He perched on the workbench beside his son. “All right, out with it.”

  “Oh, nothing,” Griffin mumbled. “I was just, you know, thinking.”

  Mr. Bing nodded. “I talked to Mr. Slovak last night —” Griffin looked up in surprise. “Yeah, I have a life, too. I don’t spend all my time in here with my nose buried in electric motors. You’re worried about Ben going away to boarding school, right?”

  “It’s not fair, Dad. Nobody asked him if he wants to go to some academy in New Jersey.”

  His father raised an eyebrow. “Did it ever occur to you that Ben needs that academy?”

  “He doesn’t need it!” Griffin insisted hotly. “He’s doing fine. He takes a fifteen-minute nap at school every day, and he’s as awake as anybody. None of the kids even know about it. They think he goes to the nurse for allergy meds.”

  Mr. Bing nodded. “You’re right. Ben’s not doing too badly — now. But no one stays eleven forever. What if he can’t drive a car because he might fall asleep at the wheel? What if the condition gets worse? Ben is going to have a completely normal life with no limits, but it might take some doing. He can’t pass up the chance to work with the very top people in that field.”

  Griffin was too unhappy to be logical. Dad could talk from today until tomorrow and make it seem like the most sensible thing in the world, but there was only one reason why Ben was going to this dumb sleep school: because he didn’t have the power to say no. He was a kid in an adult world, and that was a powerless thing to be.

  There was a tapping at the metal door, and Mrs. Bing poked her head into the garage. “Griffin, your friend Savannah is waiting for you in the den.”

  “Thanks.” He followed his mother into the house. It was the day of the big meeting. The Drysdales had gone to see their lawyer in New York City to talk about Cleopatra and how to get the monkey back. They had been unable to identify “Eleanor” as Savannah’s missing pet during their own visit to the floating zoo. But they had complete faith in their daughter’s knowledge of animals. Everybody did.

  Savannah sat on the couch watching Shark Week, an expression of deep distaste on her delicate features. “It never ceases to amaze me what people will do to make money off animals,” she complained. “They’re acting like sharks are dangerous just to get high ratings for their TV show.”

  “Never mind that,” said Griffin. “How did it go with the lawyer?”

  Her face crumpled, and for the first time he noticed the circles around her eyes. “I think Cleo’s going to have to live on that awful boat.”

  Griffin was horrified. “The lawyer said that?”

  She nodded miserably. “He said a bill of sale is legally binding unless I can prove that Cleo is mine.”

  “So prove it, then!” Griffin insisted. “Call that friend of yours — the animal scientist!”

  “Dr. Kathleen Alford. She’s Curator of the Long Island Zoo.”

  “Surely she knows how to identify a stolen monkey
!”

  Savannah shook her head sadly. “I tried that. Dr. Alford said the only way to prove that Eleanor is really Cleopatra is through DNA. I’d have to go through her blanket and find a few of her hairs. Then I’d have to send them away to a lab. It takes weeks and costs thousands of dollars. Even then, we’ve still got nothing unless we can match it to a DNA sample from the real Cleopatra — like Mr. Nasty’s going to give us permission for that. We’d have to get a court order. Even if we won, it would take over a year. Cleo is a gentle, sensitive creature who thrives on companionship and love. Who knows if she could even survive that kind of mistreatment for so long?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You’ve got to help me, Griffin! I don’t know what’s left to try!”

  Griffin stared in genuine alarm. This was Savannah, tamer of Luthor. Where animals were concerned, she was the toughest kid in town. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry before.

  “What can I do?” he said honestly. “What do I know about monkeys that you don’t?”

  “But you’re the guy who gets things done! The Man With The Plan!”

  The more Griffin thought about it, the more it drove him crazy. This should have been a no-brainer. Cleopatra was missing, and Cleopatra had been found. Happy reunion, right? Wrong. Standing in the way of justice: a procession of adults — Mr. Nasty, Klaus, Mr. Martinez, lab people, lawyers, even Savannah’s own parents, telling her it couldn’t be done.

  It was the Ben thing all over again — kids’ lives being jerked around by the adult world.

  Savannah grabbed his arm, hanging on like a drowning sailor. “I wouldn’t ask if it was just for me, Griffin. We need a plan to save Cleopatra!”

  “But — she’s just —”

  “Just a monkey?” Savannah finished angrily.

  Griffin shut his mouth and sealed it. That was exactly what he’d been about to say. And saying it to Savannah was a good way to be fed to Luthor.

  Savannah’s face flamed red. “So it’s okay for her to be kidnapped and held against her will? Why, if Cleo was a person, the police would send the SWAT team to storm the zoo boat and rescue her!”