Thirteen Plus One (7 page)

To Sandra, I said, “Let’s check the side of the building. Maybe there’s another entrance.”

“And maybe there’s a security guard on a Segway, ready to pop out and arrest us,” Sandra groused.

But she followed me as I ducked under the steel railing that lined the sidewalk. The grass was damp with dew. A low humming came from the aquarium, and the temperature of the air dropped as we sidled up close to the building.

“It’s dark,” I whispered.

“You don’t say,” Sandra replied.

“Really
dark. Axe-murderer dark.”

“No, shark-attack dark. In the night, they probably let the sharks roam free.”

I giggled nervously. While Ty had a phobia about baths, I kinda, well, had a phobia about sharks, and Sandra knew it.

A side entrance failed to present itself, and Pingy was growing agitated. I kept my hand in Ty’s backpack and stroked him as best I could, but it was awkward, and my forearm jarred the zipper open like a silver-toothed mouth. Only I did not want to think about teeth
or
mouths, so I shoved that image away and tried to think about ... about peanut butter instead. Yes, lovely peanut butter, which
had
kept Pingy occupied and quiet while we snuck him out of the house.

If I’d thought about it in time, I would have grabbed one of teensy baby Maggie’s pacifiers and swabbed up a big glob of peanut butter with it. How cute would that be, Pingy sucking on one of baby Maggie’s pacifiers?

“I wonder if the security guards actually
are
sharks,” Sandra mused. “They breathe air, you know.”

“Sharks?”

“Yummy, yummy oxygen. They like people better, though—especially yummy yummy girl flesh.”

“Shut up, they do not.”

“It’d be a lot less expensive than hiring real security guards.
And
they’d do a better job, don’t you think?”

“Sandra! Shut
up
!”

“You think a shark could ride a Segway?”

Sharks on Segways were ridiculous, I knew that. And yet my pulse accelerated. It was extremely creepy tromping through the dark with the huge aquarium looming over us, and just say a shark on a Segway
did
appear ...

Sandra snapped her jaws, and I screamed. It was LOUD, my scream, and I clapped both hands over my mouth and dropped Ty’s backpack.

“Smooth,” Sandra said.

Pingy
piued
and poked his head out.

“Hey, get back in there,” I said. I squatted beside him and pushed on his head.

“Piu, piu!”
Pingy said. He flapped his wings, and the zipper opened farther. What used to be a small opening was now a medium-sized opening.

“Sandra!
Help!”

Sandra tried to grab Pingy, but he was like one of those liquid-filled tube toys that slipped and slid through your fingers.

“Crap!”
Sandra said. “Get him!”

“I’m
trying
!”

“Piu! Piu!”

Pingy was a ball of muscle waddling rapidly away. But I could capture him, I
knew
I could,
if I could just
—

I scrambled on my hands and knees through the grass.

If I could just
—
ouch!
A prickly thing, once on the ground, was now embedded in my knee.
Owwie owwie owwie!

But there was no time for pain. I tensed and sprang and ...
yes!

“Aha!” I exclaimed from flat on my belly. “Gotcha now, sucka! ”

“Piu?”
Pingy said from behind me.

Huh?
How was Pingy
behind
me, if ... ?

“Winnie,” Sandra said tightly.

“Piu? Piu, piu?”

I looked over my shoulder, then I wished I hadn’t. Because if
Sandra
had Pingy—and sure enough, she did; she had him firmly in her grasp like a flapping baby—then what had
I
caught? What was
I
gripping in this dark and tangled grass ... and why was it so hard?

Pingy wasn’t hard. Pingy was plump and pliable, like a warm Beanie Baby.

I let go and scrambled backward. What
was
that thing in the shadows before me? Was it ... a
shoe
?

It was. A large suede loafer, to be exact. Or possibly faux suede. Hard to tell. But definitely large, and definitely—
gulp
—attached to an even larger leg.

My gaze traveled upward: legs, torso, shoulders, head. On top of the head, an army green ball cap emblazoned with the word SECURITY.

Uh-oh.

In my penguin rescue efforts, I’d managed to get dirt in my mouth. I used my tongue to work it out, and then I went
pluh,
much as teensy baby Maggie did when she was spitting up splurts of milk. Then, in a faint-ish voice, I said, “Hi?”

The security guard put his hands on his hips.

I glanced behind him. “Wow. You, um, have a Segway. I thought that was just in the movies.”

“I also have a gun,” he growled, tapping it for proof.

“Lucky,” I said, even more faintly.

“You girls want to tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

Was “not really” an acceptable response? Somehow I doubted it.

I got to my feet, brushed myself off, and turned to Sandra. She was codfish pale, and I could practically see the thoughts racing through her brain:
Omigod, so busted. I’m going to have to go to community college. Omigod, I’m going to end up at a community college!

It was clear it was up to me to get us out of this, so I straightened my shoulders, tilted my head, and smiled.

“I’m Marla,” I said. I picked “Marla” because it sounded sweet and old-fashioned.

“I’m Max,” the guard said. “Keep talking.”

“Well, um ... nice to meet you, Max.” I gestured at Sandra. “And this is my sister, Fanny.”

Sandra’s mouth dropped open.

“Fanny, say ‘hi,’” I prodded. To Max, I said, “She’s a little shy.”

“She’s also holding a penguin,” Max pointed out.

Pingy seemed to know he was being discussed.
“Piu?”
he said.

“Hmmm,” I said. “Why, yes, she is.”

“Are you going to tell me
why?”
Max asked.

God, so nosy,
I thought. I almost giggled ... but Marla was not a giggler, and this was not a giggling situation!

I took a breath. I gave Max another winning smile. “Well, you see, Fanny has ... a special connection to animals ... and, um ...”

I glanced again at Sandra, needing her to pull it together and offer some assistance here. But no, she continued to stand there like a log. A
mute
log.

My eyebrows flew up.
A mute log! Yes!

“She’s a mute,” I said rapidly. “She was born that way, it’s not her fault, and she’s ... yeah. Always collecting pets. We have a Chihuahua at home, and also a Seeing Eye dog, not that Fanny’s blind. She’s not
blind, heheheh.”

Oh, great, I’m channeling Ty’s robot laugh,
I thought. And then, firmly:
Do not think about Ty’s robot laugh! Focus!

“But, like, if Fanny wants to go for a walk?” I said with wide eyes. “My mom can pin a note to Sarge’s collar—Sarge is the Seeing Eye dog, he’s a German shepherd—that says, ‘If my owner and I seem lost, please call 555-3754.’”

Max’s expression showed nothing. Nada, zero, impassive-city.

“That’s our number,” I clarified. “It’s clever, don’t you think? So that Fanny can always find her way home?”

Max reached to his waist of his uniform pants and unclipped a black cell phone. Hovering his thumb over the buttons, he said, “You want to give that one more time?”

“Ooo, but nobody’s home!” I told him. “I mean—
heheheh—duh
, because Fanny and I are
here”—
I gestured at the weeds around us—“and my parents are ... at a charity ball! ”

“For the mute?” Max said drily.

For the
mute
? What was he ... ?
Oh!

“Yes! How’d you know?!”

Sandra—or rather, Fanny—let out a moan. I shot her a glare that said,
You are a mute. BE QUIET.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on,” Max suggested.

My shoulders slumped. I shut one eye and squinted up at him from the other. “Do I have to?”

“Hmmm. I’m going to say ...
yeah.”

I sighed, like,
Fine, you got me.
Yet some small awareness hinted to me that if I played my cards right, things were going to be okay. I don’t know how I knew this, but I did.

“My little brother took the penguin,” I confessed. “His second-grade class came here on a field trip.”

Max scratched his neck.

“But he knows it was totally wrong, and he’s really, really sorry. We just wanted to get Pingy back to his mom.”

“Pingy,”
Max stated.

I scooped Pingy from Sandra’s arms. “He’s not hurt or anything. And like I said, my little brother is so super sorry.”

“Is he a mute, too?”

“Um, ha ha. Good one.” From deep in my mind came the thought,
Let him have his fun, that’s all right. Work with it
. I gazed sheepishly at Max from under my eyelashes.

Max turned to Sandra. “And you? Are
you
mute?”

“No,” Sandra said. She plucked at her T-shirt, disgusted. “I’m pretty much covered with penguin poop, though.”

Max gave up trying to be stern and belly-laughed. I grinned, because laughing at us was so much better than putting us in jail. Or shooting us.

He took Pingy and held him under his arm like a football.

“Get out of here, girls. I’ll take care of this big boy.”

“You’re not going to report us?” I asked.

“Marla,” he said, “I’ve worked the night shift here for two years, and not once have I been this entertained.”

“Awww,” I said. On the inside, I was soaring.

“Go home,” he said. “Tell your little brother I’m onto him, and that if he ever steals a penguin again, I’ll prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law.”

“Scare him a little,” I said. “Yes, sir.”

He turned to Sandra. “And Fanny? Tell him he owes
you
a new shirt.”

Sandra gave him the sourest smile possible. He guffawed.

Since things were going so well, I said, “Hey, can I ride your Segway?”

“No,”
he and Sandra said as one.

“Okay, okay,” I said, holding my hands up. “Sheesh.”

“Good night, Marla and Fanny.”

“Good night, Max.” I elbowed Sandra. “Fanny, say good night.”

“Good night,” Sandra said in the lockjaw manner of Cinnamon’s very old, very Southern grandmother.

Max strode to his Segway and climbed on.

“Good night, Pingy!” I said. Pingy squirmed, but no way was he escaping this dude.

Steering with one hand, Max spun the Segway in a semicircle and leaned back. The Segway wobbled. Pingy’s bottom was the last thing we saw, his tail feathers fluttering in the breeze.

 

In the car, Sandra asked me who I was and what I’d done with her sister.

“Hardy-har-har,” I said.

“You were fearless back there,” she said. “I totally froze, but you were
fearless
. How?!”

“I don’t know. I got lucky, I guess.”

“No, it wasn’t luck. I don’t know
what
it was, but ...” Her sentence trickled off.

“He was nice,” I protested. “We amused him.”

“You
amused him.” She shook her head. “You should be an actress when you grow up, I am so not kidding.”

“Or a sociopath.”

She snorted. “Or a sociopath.”

Smiling, I watched the passing scenery. After a moment, my smile faded.

“I honestly don’t know how I got brave like that,” I admitted. “I’m usually so unbrave.”

“Please,” Sandra said.

“I’m not just saying that.” I thought back to how wimpy I was on the phone with Lars, how I couldn’t even come up with a way to say “I want to hang out with you this weekend, end of story.”

I thumped my chest with my fist and said, “Seriously. This—
me
—is what unbrave looks like, ‘kay?”

“Yes, Marla. Whatever you say, Marla.”

“I’m
occasionally
brave in certain situations—”

“Security guards named Max?” Sandra said. “Possible threats of incarceration?”

“But when it comes to important stuff, I blow it. Every. Single. Time.”

Sandra considered. She glanced at me and said, “Are you by any chance talking about Lars?”

“No!”
I said, horrified that my inadequacies were so glaringly obvious. Then I folded my arms over my chest. “Wait a sec. Are you using your superintuitive big sister vibe, or did you overhear my pathetic phone call?”

She laughed. Slowing down for a light, she said, “But, Winnie.”

“But, Sandra.”

“Didn’t we already discuss this?”

“Discuss what?”

“How you can’t be a bystander in your own life. How you have to take initiative.”

“No,” I said, eyeing her. Was she making things up now, my sister the mute? Had she gone crazy?

“Yeah-huh,” Sandra said. “A couple of months ago, when Lars broke up with you, or you broke up with him. Whatever.”

Oh, that
, I thought, sliding down in my seat.

“And when you were in the middle of your little breakup, what did I say? I said, ‘Winnie, if you want him back, you’ve got to
tell
him that. Grab the bull by the horns!’”

“It’s mean to say my ‘little breakup,’ and actually, no. You never once told me to grab the bull by the horns.”

“And you did, didn’t you?” she said smugly. “You grabbed Lars’s horns—”

“I did
not
grab Lars’s horns!”

‘And you took control.”
The light turned green, and she pressed down on the accelerator. ”You
did
, Winnie.”

I drew my thumb to my mouth, wedging my thumbnail into the crack between my front tooth and the tooth beside it. Lars and I
did
have a rough patch a couple of months ago, Sandra was dead right about that. It was around Valentine’s Day—the most awful timing ever—and it centered around the whole Brianna thing. How Lars let Brianna flirt with him, and didn’t discourage her and how it made me feel like dirt.