Free Manatee Blues by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

photos until I get to Violet in the river. “See these horrible gashes? They were caused by the propeller of a speedboat. I don’t know who did it, and I’m not accusing you. But this is what unsafe driving does. Manatees are an endangered species. There are only a couple thousand of them left.”
    “That’s enough,” interrupts the guy directing the line. “Everybody needs a turn. Let’s go.”
    Ronnie holds up his hand. “Hang on, Stu. Give her a chance.”
    I pull a flyer for the rescue center’s fund-raiser and a brochure about manatees out of my backpack.
    “Could you read this stuff, please?” I ask. “My friend Maggie said you were a good guy. Maybe you just don’t know about manatees yet. You’re new around here. This center saves manatees and lots of other wildlife. But they need help.”
    “Mr. Masters can’t make any promises to endorse or support anything,” says Stu, the annoying guy in the jacket. “Thank you for your time. I’m sure he’ll consider it. Next!”
    I don’t move. “People look up to you, Mr. Masters. You can make a difference.”
    Ronnie Masters quickly signs his name on a trading card and hands it to me with my photos. “I’ll think about it,” he says.
    “Next!”

Chapter Twelve

    T he rescue center is half filled with people by the time we arrive for the fund-raiser. Most of the guests are the volunteers and interns who work at the center, plus their family and friends. A Jimmy Buffet disk is playing on a CD player set up on the reception desk.
    Next to the desk is a table with munchies and punch on it. Someone strung a few blue, green, and purple streamers across the lobby to try to dress it up a bit. It actually makes it more depressing, maybe because I know this is the last party that will be held here. I should have left my camera in the hotel room. I don’t feel much like taking pictures.
    Maggie and Zoe head for the food table. I ate too much at the ballpark. Dr. Mac crosses the room to talk to Gretchen, who is chatting with Carlos by the donation box. It doesn’t look like much money has been added to it. I’m going to give all my change before I leave.
    Gretchen smiles as Dr. Mac greets her, but she looks beat. Between trying to save the manatees and the rescue center, I don’t think she’s getting much sleep.
    Key Lime and Violet look like they’re dancing above the heads of the small crowd. Violet still has her propeller cuts covered by bandages, but it looks like she’s moving her left flipper a little more. I hope that means she’s not in as much pain. She gracefully floats across the tank like aqueen, while Key Lime darts, twirls, and spins around her like the court jester, still trying to get her attention.
    Gretchen catches my eye and points to the door that leads upstairs to the pool room. Does she want me to go up there? I point to my chest—me? She nods, opens the door, and heads up the stairs.
    She’s waiting for me at the top.
    “Do you need me for something?” I ask when I get there.
    “You didn’t look like you were having a good time,” she says as she sits on a stool by the sink.
    “Well, it’s kind of sad,” I say.
    “I agree. Want to help me feed Violet?”
    “Sure! I’d love to. What do I have to do?”
    “I’ll show you.” Gretchen stands up and opens the refrigerator. I cross the room and take the vegetables that she hands me—heads of romaine lettuce, bananas, and sweet potatoes.
    “You can wash the lettuce while I cut up the potatoes,” she says.
    I turn on the water and rinse the lettuce. “It looks like she’s swimming more comfortably. Is she eating better, too?”
    Gretchen cuts the sweet potatoes into quarters. “Much better. The antibiotic kicked in, and her appetite came storming back. When we changed her bandage this morning, there were hardly any signs of infection.”
    “I’m ready,” I say, holding up the lettuce.
    “Go ahead and put it in the tank,” Gretchen replies.
    I toss a chunk of