Free Manatee Blues by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

lettuce into the water.
    Violet surfaces for a breath and investigates the lettuce with her sensitive snout. Then she uses her flippers to bring the lettuce into her mouth and devours it.
    “I wish we could feed them by hand,” I say.
    Gretchen chops up some more potatoes. “I know. That’s what everyone says. But that’s being selfish, thinking about what we want, not what’s best for them. Violet is wild. We owe it to her to let her stay that way.”
    I sit cross-legged at the side of the tank. “What’s going to happen to them when you close?” I ask quietly.
    “I spent most of the day on the telephone finding homes for everyone,” Gretchen says. “Key Lime is going up to a zoo in Ohio. They’ve taken in young calves before and cared for them until they were big enough to be released back down here. We’ll keep Violet here for a couple of weeks. Then we’ll send her to a rehab center in Sarasota. The staff there takes great care of their animals.”
    She tosses pieces of sweet potato into the tank.
    “What about the gopher tortoise, and the red rat snake, and the others?” I ask. “They need good homes, too.”
    “I’m still working on it. There are small zoos and some schools I need to talk to.” She peels a banana and tosses it in the water. “We also have to help our interns and researchers find a new place to work.” She peels a second banana and offers it to me. “Want one?”
    “Sure.” I take the banana. Across the tank, Violet grabs her banana, too. It disappears in one gulp. I eat mine one bite at a time.
    “I tried to talk to a boater today,” I say. “I saw him driving too fast in a manatee zone.”
    “How did it go?” Gretchen asks as she peels a banana for herself.
    “I think I blew it. I showed him pictures of Violet’s injuries and tried to explain why it’s important to pay attention to the signs posted in manatee waters, but I don’t think he was listening. He thought I was just another dumb kid. It makes me so mad. Everyone says that kids are the future, but no one wants to listen to us.”
    Key Lime surfaces near us, his tiny nostrils twitching. He takes a deep breath and dives again.
    “Don’t let that discourage you,” Gretchen says. “You’re a smart, resourceful girl, the perfect manatee protector. You’re going to grow up into one of those people who make a huge difference. You’re already doing that, just by talking to people and educating them about the needs of manatees and other wildlife. It might not be as dramatic as diving off a boat to save a calf, but in the long run, it will be more significant.” Gretchen winks at me, then nods toward the tank. “You can give her some more lettuce.”
    I toss two more heads of romaine into the water.
    The crowd noise coming up from the stairwell is getting louder. If I look down into the tank, I can see the people moving around through the glass wall, a few faces peering into the water to look at the manatees.
    Gretchen stands up. “I’d better tell them, break the news about closing the center. It sounds like they’re getting restless down there.”
    “Do you really have to close it? There’s nothing else to do?”
    Gretchen tosses the last of the sweet potatoes into the water and sighs. “This has been coming for months, Brenna. It didn’t just happen overnight. I should have been more realistic, planned better. I kept hoping that something would turn up—a grant or a hefty donation from someone’s will.”
    She washes her hands in the sink and dries them on a towel. “But it’s over. If we can’t provide the animals with the best quality care here, thenthey need to go someplace else.” She hangs the towel on a rack neatly so it will dry. “Are you coming downstairs?”
    Violet surfaces briefly for a breath. She’s so beautiful, propeller scars and all.
    “No, I’ll stay here, if that’s OK.”
    “Sure,” Gretchen says. “I understand.” She leaves without another word.
    Violet slowly