Free Zoo by Tara Elizabeth Page A

a state of repose. It’s
probably a lullaby, one I’ve never heard. My mind drifts and
shuffles through memories of my past life. One of my favorite
memories is when I was eight years old. It’s one of those magical
movie moments that make it into the montage.
    My parents and I were on vacation in Florida
somewhere. I was so happy that day. We’d had pancakes for breakfast
at the local diner—my favorite. Later on in the day, I was promised
a trip to the aquarium. Before our trip out, we took a stroll on
the beach. I splashed in the tiny waves and picked up shells along
the way. The sand was powdery and warm, and it squished between my
toes as I walked through it. At one point, I stopped and laid down
in it, like I’m lying now, looking up at the cloudless sky.
    My mother and father came to lie next to me,
one on each side. I giggled as we made “snow” angels in the sand.
We brushed our arms and legs back and forth over the fine grains.
When we finished, I kneeled in the middle of my angel and drew
feathers in the wings and a halo above her head.
    My mother stood before them and said, while
pointing at each angel, “Look, the angels of Love, Hope, and
Faith.” Mine was the angel of Hope. She fingered in the names below
each angel and then pulled out her camera from her pink beach bag.
“I have to take a picture,” she said excitedly.
    That picture is still hanging over the
fireplace. Well, probably not now since that was over 200 years
ago.
    My parents are
dead , I realize. A tear slides from the
corner of my eye, down my face, and eventually pools in my ear. I
squeeze my eyes shut tight, fighting more of them off. It doesn’t
help. I roll onto my side, curling into a ball as I mourn the
deaths of my parents, my family, my friends, and everything
that was that is
no longer.
    I don’t care that Janice, Greg, or Kale can
see me. I don’t care that the public can see me, even though I
could get into trouble for allowing them to see my strained
emotions in their ridiculous amusement park. I am lost in my own
dark world and they don’t exist here.
    A shadow falls over me, darkening the inside
of my eyelids even more. I refuse to open my eyes to find out what
it is. I want to keep crying.
    The shadow stays for as long as I am awake.
Eventually, I fall asleep from exhaustion.

YUCK!
     
    It doesn’t take long for Janice and Greg to
consummate their new relationship. Since the second he arrived,
they haven’t left each other’s side. And when they decide to become
intimate with each other, it just so happens to be right next door
to me. I’m happy for her, but this is too much.
    It started off with
Janice’s girlie giggles. Then, there was some heavy breathing, and
now I’m lying here listening to muffled moans. Gross! I can’t listen to this any
longer. This dirt floor is just as good as any other,
right?
    I grab my scratchy, cotton blanket and
quietly crawl out of my tiny hut, where I immediately stumble over
Kale’s sleeping body. I fall on top of him, which startles him
awake. My face lands on the ground inches from his face, and my
body is awkwardly sprawled across his. He stares at me and smiles.
“Hi,” he says.
    I scramble off of him as quickly as possible
and trip again on one of his legs. My butt hits the ground hard.
“Kale! What are you doing right outside my hut?” I kick at his
stupid leg.
    I dislike him again for not being James, and
I am reminded about my theory that he’s trying to charm me so he
won’t be sent away. He knows what’s at stake. So what is that cocky
smile really about? Our moment of shared torture yesterday is over
now.
    “ Sorry. Your huts are
hidden and next to the fire. I didn’t want to sleep out in the open
next to the glass. I’ve been sleeping here since I got here. You
never said anything before,” he answers honestly.
    He stands and offers his hand to me. I swat
it away. “I didn’t know you were sleeping here,” I huff. He was so
close to me all this