Free Time to Fly by Laurie Halse Anderson

either.”
    â€œBut Gran, do you really think living in L.A. will be better for me than living here in Ambler?”
    â€œIt’s not a question of which city is better to live in, Zoe. The question is, where will you be happier?”
    â€œHow should I know?” I snort. Do I look like a clairvoyant? Biting my lip, I remind myself that I’m not mad at Gran. “All I know is, Mom wants me to leave behind everything I love here. And she even wants to pull me out of school and force me to go to a big new school with barely six more weeks left in the school year. I don’t want to do that!”
    â€œFine,” Gran says. “Then that’s what you need to tell her.”
    Gran always makes everything sound so simple, but it’s never simple when I actually try to do it. “Can’t you tell her?” I mumble.
    A long, silent pause. Gran wrings out her dish-cloth and sets it on the counter. Finally she turns and looks straight at me. For the first time since I’ve known her, her bright, clear blue eyes look clouded.
    â€œZoe, if I try to tell Rose what she should or shouldn’t do, it won’t help your case, believe me. I made that mistake long ago, and I learned my lesson. This is something only you can do. You need to talk with her and tell her exactly how you feel. Just remember, she loves you very much and truly does want the best for you.”
    â€œCould have fooled me.” Sullenly I scuff my toe on the linoleum.
    â€œSometimes people do make bad decisions, Zoe, even though they may be trying to do the right thing. And sometimes”—Gran reaches for my hand—“what seems like a bad decision is actually a good one. Think about it: A year ago you wanted to go with Rose to California instead of moving in with me—perfectly understandable. You couldn’t see why your mother would leave you with a grandmother who was a complete stranger to you. But looking back, don’t you think your mother made the right decision when she sent you here?”
    As usual, Gran’s logic is undeniable. I give a tiny nod.
    Gran ruffles my hair, then folds me into a hug. “Honey, your mother and I don’t always see eye-to-eye. But there’s one thing we agree on: we both want you to be happy. So you need to search your heart, figure out what you truly want, and then speak up.” Gran lifts my chin. Her eyes are clear again, such a light, piercing blue. She smiles at me. “That’s my prescription.”
    â€œOK, Dr. Mac, I’ll try to follow it.” Try being the operative word. Based on past experience, my hopes for success are not high.
    The other line rings, and Gran picks up the kitchen phone. “This is Dr. MacKenzie.”
    Immediately her face takes on a serious expression. Must be a patient with an emergency. I start to leave the room, but she signals for me to wait. After a few minutes she thanks the caller and hangs up.
    â€œThat was the sheriff,” she tells me. “He called to say they found an abandoned trailer in a ditch—with dead parrots inside it.”
    â€œHow awful! What happened?”
    â€œThe police think the parrots were smuggled up from Mexico, and the driver was heading to New York to sell them—until he ran off the road. He was probably driving nonstop and hadn’t slept for days. The trailer has been lying in the ditch for at least a week, but it’s on a back road and nobody saw it until a farmer reported it.”
    As the information sinks in, I look up at Gran in horror. “Smuggled! Are you kidding?”
    â€œI wish I were, Zoe. I hate to say it, but parrot smuggling is big business. Since nearly all wild parrots are endangered, most countries have very strict rules about exporting and importing exotic birds. As a result, a large black market has developed in smuggled birds.”
    â€œBut Gran, there are parrot breeders right here in the U.S.! Why would anyone want