Masks (8 page)

“Even the cats?” I ask.

“Even the cats. These animals are extremely expensive because they’re bred to be free of germs and disease. Some cost over a thousand dollars.”

I don’t know what to say. My head is spinning with all sorts of different thoughts that won’t come together into a sensible sentence.

“The research animals that die could help other animals to live,” she continues. “That might sound harsh, but those are the realities. I don’t feel one bit bad about the work I do here. A lot of people who love and depend on their pets benefit from our work, and, of course, the new medicines improve the lives of the animals themselves.”

“But you made those rats sick,” I argue. “Don’t they suffer because they’re sick?”

“We do all we can to ease their suffering, and we don’t keep them around for long once they’re sick. That’s why we were going to euthanize those rats this Friday—so they don’t get so ill that they’re in real, serious pain.”

“Do all the research labs do that?” I ask.

Julie throws her arms out to the side, obviously getting frustrated with me. “They’re supposed to!” she says. “Sunita, there are guidelines and laws for doing research with living creatures. Everything has to be approved before an experiment can even begin.”

I look down at the white rats and at the other rodents. They all look so innocent, so in need of love and a home.

“I hear what you’re saying, and what I did was wrong. Sorry,” I apologize. “I’m glad you’re able to do this work to help animals. But I can’t. It’s too hard for me to work with the animals knowing that they’re going to be killed.”

Julie looks at me closely and nods. She doesn’t seem mad anymore. “I love this work so much, I forget sometimes that not everyone feels the same way,” she says. “It could be that research work involving animals just isn’t for you.”

I collect my books and stick them in the backpack. “I probably won’t be coming back,” I say.

“All right,” Julie agrees. “If that’s how you feel, it’s probably for the best.”

I leave AVM quickly and bike to school. Homeroom is letting out just as I arrive. “Three lates and you’ll have a detention,” my homeroom teacher reminds me. “This is your second one. It’s not like you, Sunita.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry,” is all I can think of to say. It’s not like me at all—yet somehow I don’t care. It’s not even like me not to care.

But if I’m not like the old Sunita, who am I like—who replaces the old me?

That’s the scary part.

After school I head to Dr. Mac’s Place to visit Mittens. Brenna and I see each other in the hallway. She greets me with an angry grunt and keeps walking.

Fine, if that’s how you’re going to act, I think, even though a big part of me wants us to be friends again.

“Wait a minute, Brenna,” I say. “Something happened today, and I want to tell you about it.”

She turns to face me. “What?”

“I quit AVM after I let some lab rats go today. I couldn’t bear to let them be killed. I set them free.”

A smile slowly forms on her face. “You did? Awesome! I can’t believe you had the nerve! I’m so proud of you.”

I hold up my hand to stop her. “I did it partly because of the things you said to me. But I’m not proud of myself. I didn’t have the whole picture.
Those rats were sick, and I didn’t realize that by freeing them, I would be causing them a painful death.”

“I didn’t know those things, either,” Brenna admits. Then her face hardens. “But they wouldn’t be sick in the first place if labs like AVM didn’t exist!”

I take a deep breath. “If labs like AVM didn’t exist, Brenna, there’d be no antibiotics to help cats like Mittens.”

Brenna’s eyes soften. “I’m worried about Mittens, too. But I don’t believe that killing animals to save animals makes sense. There just has to be another way.”

I sigh as I head in to see Mittens. I guess Brenna and I will never see eye to eye.

Mittens is asleep in her cage. Dr. Mac comes up beside me. “She’s improving,” she says. “The new antibiotic has taken hold.”

I nod, and tears spring to my eyes. They’re tears of happiness, tears of relief. But they’re also tears of some unexplainable sadness.

At my final mask-making session, I still don’t know what kind of mask I want to wear. I leave
the wire framework of my mask lying unfinished on the table. I would like some more time to talk to Michaela, but my mother is right on time to pick me up, so there’s no chance to talk.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” I say to Mom as we drive home. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

She glances at me with a worried expression on her face. “I don’t like the sound of that, Sunita,” she says. “What’s happened?”

I tell her about how I freed the rats. “Oh, dear,” she says. “Sunita, how could you do such a thing? I suppose they fired you.”

“No. Julie was pretty nice about it, really. And we got the rats back. But I can’t do that kind of work. It’s not for me. I quit.”

My mother nods, keeping her eyes on the road.

We’re both quiet until I ask, “Would you tell Daddy for me?”

“We’ll do it together,” she says, which makes me feel a little better.

At home we find my father in his study. He looks up with a smile, but his smile fades when he sees our concerned expressions. “What is it?” he asks.

My mother and I sit in chairs by his desk. “Tell him, Sunita,” my mother says gently.

By the time I’m near the end of my story, my face is wet with tears. “I only did it because I thought it was right,” I say. “But I see now that it wasn’t.”

My father appears serious, but not that upset. “I’m proud that you followed your conscience,” he says. “But before you take a serious action like that, you must have all the facts. You can’t just jump in rashly, committing acts with serious consequences without considering all sides of the issue.”

“I know that now,” I say.

“Sunita has resigned from AVM,” my mother tells him.

“Clearly this work is too stressful for her,” he says. “So, at least we’ve learned that much.”

“Are you mad?” I ask.

He comes out from behind his desk and strokes my head. “Perhaps a little disappointed. But it’s your life. And these are the decisions you alone can make. No, I’m not mad. You’re growing up, Sunita.”

A
fter class the next day, I go to the clinic. “Mittens’ fever is back up a bit today,” Dr. Mac says as she tweezes a thorn from a puppy’s paw. “I just ran some blood tests on her. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for the results.”

My shoulders sag with disappointment. “I thought she was finally getting better.”

“So did I. The tests should tell me what to do next,” she says. The dog in her lap squirms. “Hold him steady for me, please,” she requests.

I do as she asks. It’s as if I never left the clinic.

“Success,” Dr. Mac says happily as she holds
up the thorn in her tweezers. She looks at me intently. “How’s your internship at AVM coming?” she asks.

“It’s over,” I say, and I tell her about the white rats and how I had to go chase them down.

“It’s hard to know what’s right sometimes,” she says, swabbing the pup’s paw with alcohol.

Dr. Mac always seems so sure of herself. “Isn’t it clear to you?” I ask.

“Not always,” she admits. “When I was a veterinary intern, I wasn’t prepared for the fact that I would have to put some people’s pets to sleep. Oh, in my mind I understood that this would happen, but I wasn’t prepared for the way I’d feel emotionally. Still…I had to help owners make informed choices about relieving their pets’ suffering or continuing on with treatment that had little hope of success.”

“I guess that would be a hard choice,” I agree.

“Very hard.”

Then a frightening thought makes me cold all over. Did Dr. Mac just bring up the subject because she’s thinking about Mittens? It’s a question I can’t bring myself to ask her.

On the night of the Halloween party at the Ambler Town Center, David comes by my house to pick me up. He’s dressed in his vampire costume. I’ve used fabric markers to draw a big jack-o’-lantern on an oversized orange sweatshirt. I’m not much in the mood for Halloween, but it’s worse sitting around doing nothing.

“Where are Brenna and Maggie?” I ask.

“We’re meeting them over at Town Center,” he says.

I grab my flashlight and we begin walking. Up the road I see Maggie and Brenna. They’re talking to one of the girls from our mask-making class. Maggie’s dressed in her veterinarian costume, which is made up of scrubs, a surgical mask, a stethoscope, and a stuffed dog. Brenna is dressed as a hippie from the sixties, complete with daisy-print bell-bottom pants and a band around her forehead. They haven’t noticed us yet.

David and I are just about to turn the corner when I spot something ahead of us on the road. I can’t see it that well, but I can tell it’s an animal. Its legs are pumping and it can’t seem to get up. “An animal’s been hurt!” I yell.

David runs with me, but I get there first.

“Oh, no!” I cry. “It’s the black stray!” Blood trickles from its mouth, and its eyes are wide with fear.

T
he black stray lets out a horrible yowl. David kneels down to pick it up. “No!” I shout to stop him. “If the cat has broken bones, scooping it up might cause more damage. And it’s frightened—it might scratch or bite you.” I remember Dr. Mac telling us how animals go into shock and need to be kept warm. Covering them helps them stay warm and feel calmer. “Cover it with your cape,” I tell David. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”