Zera and the Green Man (4 page)

“And your grandmother, she’s . . .”

“Guinevere Green, of Green Seed Company.”

“Well. We’ve certainly all heard of Green Seed Company. Interesting,” said the reporter. She moved closer to Zera. “I’ve researched this topic. Biotech Multinational’s literature says they’ve taken steps to ensure such events, bioengineered plants escaping into the wild for example, won’t happen. That they’ve spent millions in failsafe procedures.”

“Failsafe is impossible.”

Tiffany went into red alert. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting her body between Zera and the reporter. “I hope you’re not thinking of quoting a fourteen year old without permission. Everything she just said is
off the record
.” She grabbed Zera’s arm and this time did not stop dragging her away until they were a good distance from the crowd.

“Fifteen!” said Zera. “Today’s my birthday, remember?”

“We’d better find a seat,” Tiffany whispered to Theodore when she found him. “But you’re sitting next to Zera, I’ve had enough of that brat for one day.”

The Toad gave Zera a look she knew well, raised eyebrows, wrinkled forehead. His expression clearly asked, “What did you do now?”

As they sat waiting, Zera felt satisfaction about speaking up, rude or not. It surprised her that she’d had the courage.
Nonny would be proud.
Her satisfaction was a little undercut, however, by fear of Tiffany’s revenge. Zera didn’t feel quite so certain now that Tiffany would let her open her grandmother’s gifts when they got home.

On the stage at the front of the room, Bob Cadger’s secretary introduced Chet Wrangler, the CEO of All-American Burger Depot. A giant of a man in a tan suit, Stetson cowboy hat, and faux alligator boots, stomped up to the podium. His long, thick mustache and doughy features reminded Zera of a walrus, yet his massiveness, his tree trunk body and legs, brought to her mind the image of a mighty oak.

“He looks almost as strange as I do,” Zera said under her breath.

“Shhh.”
The Toad narrowed his eyes at her from behind his dark-framed glasses.

“Good evening.” Wrangler tipped his hat. “I appreciate y’all coming tonight to our little celebration, the Colorado opening of Americo’s first All-American Burger Depot.”

Applause thundered from the audience.

“I want y’all to know that we couldn’t have done this without our partnership with the scientific geniuses at BioTech.” Wrangler bestowed a smile as big as Texas upon Cadger, seated to his right. 

Cadger nodded in return. 

“Tonight,” continued Wrangler, “you’ll taste two of our newest products. First our dee-licious Beefy
Fries, developed from a potato enhanced with the genes from a cow! These babies are going to once-and-for-all change the words ‘French fries’ to ‘American fries.’
All-American
fries!”

The crowd chuckled.

“These beefy fries have been off the charts in every single taste test. They’re going to be big, real big.” Wrangler spread out his long, meaty arms to illustrate exactly how big. “I just hope they don’t get too big, and make hamburgers obsolete — or my little 500,000-head cattle ranch back in Texas is in trouble!”

The crowd laughed again
.

During this part of the speech, several people smiled at her uncle, and Zera watched him actually puff up.
Just like a toad
, she thought. She’d heard all about The Toad’s masterpiece, Beefy Fries, for months. They were made from something that looked like a regular potato but were far from it; they oozed a little of a blood-like substance when harvested and sliced into fries. The Toad said that was just a minor concern, and soon they’d have a “new and improved” version. Zera thought up another nickname for her uncle, “Lord of the Fries.” She envisioned another amphibian, a frog, sitting on a lily pad, his tongue darting out at winged fries mooing and buzzing above his head.

“Our second creation,” Chet Wrangler said, “is our Marilyn Milkshake, named after our sweet little mascot, whom I’m sure y’all have met.”

The crowd nodded and smiled. A few people chuckled. Someone called out “Moo!”

“These milkshakes are rich and tasty, and they are absolutely cutting edge, having both public satisfaction and health in mind. They are the first milkshakes ever that
induce
weight loss, by way of a secret ingredient added to the recipe.” Wrangler winked.

“Ooooh!” murmured the audience.

Wrangler’s grin revealed a glitter of white teeth below his mustache. “I welcome you to a new era, an era where good old scientific know-how is paving the way for our food. And this is only the beginning. We’ve got a lot of projects, just as fantastic, on the back burner.”

A man yelled out, “Yeah, the Bunsen burner!” and a few in the crowd tittered.

“But what is so extra-special about All-American,” Wrangler hooked his thumbs into his front jean pockets, and sweetened his voice to molasses, “is that we’ve created a homey, warm atmosphere where you can enjoy a nice time out with your family. And that’s what we care about most at Americo —
family
.

“Anyhow, I won’t keep you
longer, I know you’re all hungry, and itchin’ to try this food. You’re gonna love it, I guarantee it! So now I’ll turn y’all over to a man most of you know and love, Mr. Bob Cadger, President of BioTech Multinational. Thank you!”

An upbeat music number started playing as the crowd clapped, but the word “itchin” made Zera remember her scratchy
dress. She rubbed the back of her neck where the ruffled material irritated her skin the most. The audience applauded louder as Cadger changed places with Wrangler at the podium. Cadger now wore a top hat decorated with stars and stripes. Zera heard chuckles of admiration and a couple of comments about Cadger’s “sense of humor.”

The microphone stand automatically adjusted itself to Cadger’s height. Cadger looked up at Wrangler. “Thanks, Chet.” 

Cadger clapped along with the crowd as Wrangler took a seat. He then took the microphone from its stand, walked up to the edge of the stage and grinned. His audience, glassy-eyed with admiration, stood and clapped. Zera looked around and sighed.
What do they see in this guy?

“That’s a vintage microphone,” Tiffany said to Theodore, “I wonder why he’s using an old one, the kind with a cord?”

Theodore shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Wow, what an act to follow!” Cadger said. Holding onto the microphone’s cord, he dropped it down past the stage, nearly to the floor,
then swung it back up in a long arc, catching it in his hand. 

  The audience went wild. Zera almost gagged. She’d seen a rock star from about fifty years ago do that once on a Home Theater concert and knew Bob Cadger was just copying him.

“Isn’t this a great evening!” Cadger motioned for his audience to sit back down, all the while smiling, gee-whiz-boyishly and arrogantly at the same time. The music stopped. “When Americo approached us five years ago, they wanted to see what we could do in the arena of fast food. They knew of our work, our fantastic successes in the field of genetic modification. They knew that in less than six years, we’d grown from a very small company into a
multinational corporation
.”

Tiffany said, “And they couldn’t have done any of it without you, Theodore.”

The Toad grinned and looked around expectantly, as if he were ready to be called to the stage himself.

“I am
proud
,” Cadger said. “We are a team of
winners
. I want to thank Mr. Wrangler and Americo, but I especially want to thank
all of you
.”

Several minutes later, and without any mention of her uncle,
Bob Cadger received a standing ovation — and for a moment, seeing her uncle’s disappointment, Zera forgot all about her birthday.

* * *

Zera winced as The Toad slurped his chocolate shake from its crystal tumbler; it sounded like sludge being sucked down a drain. When they sat down she saw that his hair, combed neatly when they arrived, had begun reverting to its usual messed-up state. His cowlick had returned and two patches of hair stuck up in opposite directions at the back of his head. No one had spoken a word during the meal. A few people from the lab had visited their table to compliment her uncle on the Beefy Fries, but The Toad only nodded in return, his expression grim. 

Harv Headstrom walked up, carrying a plate. Between mouthfuls of fries he said, “Wow, Theo, these are so good! They taste exactly like steak and potatoes!” He licked his lips, raised his caterpillar eyebrows. “It was weird, though, that Cadger didn’t single you out for all your work.” 

Theodore gave Harv a frosty look and no reply as Harv stood in silence for a few awkward seconds. Zera again noticed the reflective quality of his balding head and looked away quickly. Harv mumbled, “I guess I’ll see you at the office,” and walked away.

Zera picked at her salad. The idea of trying the Beefy Fries or a Marilyn shake made her stomach lurch. At a table near them, she’d overheard one of the scientists say that the “secret ingredient” in the milkshakes was the genetic code from some kind of parasite, attached to a cow’s “milk” gene in order to create “weight-loss milk.”
I don’t even want to know the details..

Zera looked over at that table again and her fork slipped from her grasp as a sudden brightness filled the room and
a dizziness overtook her.
No
, she thought
, that’s ketchup, not blood
. For a moment she thought she saw blood on the corner of the scientist’s mouth, blood on the fries. For that moment, even the scent of copper had filled her nostrils. She did a double-take and her head cleared; the “blood” turned back to ordinary red ketchup, the smell disappeared.
This place is getting to me
, thought Zera.
I’m going bonkers. Too much information.

Theodore broke his silence. In a croaky voice, barely above a whisper he said, “He led me on, Tiffany.” He glanced around. “Not one word, not one stinking word. And I’m the one who single-handedly created Beefy Fries. Damn it!”

Zera was shocked. She’d never heard her uncle swear.

“You should have known something was up when they didn’t let you name them.” Tiffany daintily dipped a Beefy Fry into a puddle of ketchup and Zera had to look away before she put it in her mouth. “They’ve been walking all over you and you’ve let them.” 

The Toad didn’t respond. Shaking off the blood-ketchup thing, Zera remembered the Beefy Fry naming episode. Months ago The Toad submitted a scientific name for his creation. He’d bragged to Tiffany and Zera how he’d cleverly combined the Latin name
Solanum tuberosum
, for potato, with the one for cattle,
Bos taurus
, into
Bos x tuberosum
and added his own name as inventor — Green, or
greenii
, for the Latin translation, on the end.
Bos x tuberosum greenii
was rejected as a name by corporate headquarters in preference of
Bos x tuberosum sparkii —
in honor of Bob Cadger’s dog, Sparky.

“You’re right,” The Toad said. “I’m one of the greatest minds in this field and I haven’t received my due for anything. BioTech’s walked all over me.”

Zera tried to be invisible, taking small sips from her water and not adding anything to the conversation. She also knew about The Toad’s other “products.” Although she always pretended she wasn’t interested when he talked about them, she listened attentively. She’d heard about Biocorn, the corn spliced with a bacteria that immediately killed any bug that nibbled on it, and about the New World strawberries, strawberry genes combined with those of the great strawberry-worm. The strawberries were designed so that the caterpillars would fall in love with them and try to mate with them instead of dine on them. The only flaw was that the strawberries looked a bit like the caterpillars, green with yellow spots and long black hairs — not very appetizing. Zera thought BioTech Multinational’s products were disgusting, but also strangely mesmerizing. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for her uncle.

The Toad sat up straighter and raised his voice a little. “This is the last straw. Things are going to change.”

“It’s about time,” Tiffany said. “Because he doesn’t deserve the money, or the glory. You do.” She jerked her blonde head in the direction of Cadger, sitting at the largest table in the middle of the room, surrounded by admirers. Cadger hadn’t said a single word to The Toad since they got there.

Tiffany touched the corners of her mouth with a star
-spangled napkin then looked at The Toad, her eyes steely with determination. “You’re brilliant, Theodore, but you’re not a businessman. We need to change that. I know how to get ahead. I grew up poor, the shabbiest dressed kid in Rosemont High, but I worked my way out of it. I know what it takes to get what you want.”

Tiffany’s words and the alley-cat-hungry look in her eyes sent a shiver up Zera’s spine.

* * *

Back at the condo, the sight of Nonny’s packages thrilled Zera. With all the drama of the evening, including a discussion between The Toad and Tiffany on the way home about what “they” were going to do about Theodore’s situation at BioTech, she’d forgotten about her presents.