Free Notes From a Liar and Her Dog by Gennifer Choldenko Page B

lunch bag.
    “If we lose you, I have dibs on your radio,” a tall, skinny khaki lady says. She takes a long drag from her cigarette.
    “Honey, if I’m gone, you can have everything. Even my underwear,” Mary-Judy says.
    “Harrison.” Just Carol beckons with her finger. Harrison jumps up and comes over to us.
    “Wash your hands. Change out of your boots. We’re going home,” she whispers in a mean voice, like how she talks to kids she doesn’t like.
    “Why?” Harrison asks.
    “Talk to your buddy here. She’ll tell you.” Just Carol nods at me.
    Harrison’s face scrunches all up.
    “Hey, Carol, what’s going on?” Mary-Judy asks.
    “I’m sorry, Mary-Judy, but I think Ant’s ready to go. A whole day is a little much first time out. I’m going to run the two of them home, then I’ll be back,” Just Carol says, as smooth as can be.
    “So, you’re stealing my helpers, are you. Just when I get them all trained.”
    “I’m sorry, Mary-Judy,” Just Carol says.
    “Tired you out, huh?” Mary-Judy says to me.
    I nod. I am tired, I realize through the dull thudding of my head. But I’m also feeling guilty. Why does Harrison have to go home, too? This isn’t fair.
    We walk up out of the Do Not Enter area. I hear the sound of Harrison’s sneakers and Just Carol’s rubber boots slapping the ground when she walks. I smell the big eucalyptus trees and step on the acorns. The gibbons are quiet now, but the macaws are making a terrible fuss. It sounds as if they are arguing over something. A woman is pushing her child in one of the zoo’s rental strollers. It rattles like an old grocery cart.
    Just Carol doesn’t say a word. Harrison is looking over at me through his straggly hair. He wants to know what happened, but I feel too lousy to explain.
    It’s a long way to the car with Just Carol and her silence and Harrison and his disappointed face, but we finally make it. Just Carol fishes the keys out of her pocket and unlocks the shiny doors. I am buckling the seat belt around Harrison and me when she lets me have it. “So why in God’s name did you hide that dog in your pocket all morning? What is the purpose of a stunt like that? Did you plan to feed your dog to the lions or was that his idea?”
    I take Pistachio out of my pocket and put him on my lap. Harrison sucks air in. “Is he okay?” he asks, running his hand along Tashi’s head and down hisback. He touches Tashi carefully, as if he is formed out of sand.
    “Are you crazy? I’d never hurt Pistachio. Never. He just thinks he’s a lot bigger than he is, is all. He’s just really brave.”
    “Am
I
crazy?” Just Carol asks. “I’m not the one that stuck my arm in the lions’ exhibit.”
    Harrison is scratching behind Pistachio’s small triangle ears.
    “Not only that,” she begins, counting my sins with her fingers. “You put your own dog’s life in danger. Not to mention sacrificing me. I actually care about being able to volunteer here, and I stuck my neck out so you could come. And …” Now she’s on finger number four. “You could have gotten Mary-Judy in a whole bunch of trouble, because she’s the one responsible for us, but that doesn’t matter to you, either. Not to mention spoiling the chance for Harrison here. Did you think of that?” This is finger number five: Just Carol’s thumb.
    I look over at Harrison. His shoulders are hunched. He looks as if he wishes he could disappear. I don’t think he’s mad at me. He just hates fighting, especially between me and Just Carol. He likes us both too much.
    “I had to bring Pistachio. I had to,” I say.
    “You had to? Why is that?”
    “He has a heart problem. He has to have his pill. The vet said I have to give him pills three times a day. She said I couldn’t miss one. You said we were goingto be here all day. How else could I give him his middle-of-the-day pill?”
    “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
    “It’s true.”
    She groans and shakes her head.