How to Outrun a Crocodile When Your Shoes Are Untied

by Jess Keating

  “Later, Mom,” I mumbled through the open window. The sooner she got out of here, the better.

  I tried to ignore the feeling that everyone was staring. Camels and Crocs: The Silent Torture of Ana Wright. Already my life sounded like a really bad made-for-TV movie. I was almost in the clear at the door when I noticed a huge gasp from the crowd, followed by a peal of laughter. I wheeled around, wondering if Mom had gotten out of the truck.

  Oh. My. God.

  A camel—a traitorous camel—had taken a…well, you know. It was all over the road, this huge, steaming pile of…

  Principal Miller was coming up to the truck. The vein in his forehead was throbbing at first, but as soon as he saw my mom, he broke into a grin.

  No…no, please.

  She was getting out of the truck, patting him on the back and flashing her wide smile. She pointed up at me and waved. The crowd of students had gone silent. A few students snickered, and I hid my face. Among the faces of the growing crowd was my brother, laughing with Kevin. What? Was he missing the embarrassment gene or something? How could he find it funny to be part of the school’s biggest weirdo family?!

  I had to get out of there. Sorry, Mom—you’re on your own for this one. Shouldering the door open, I ran into someone wearing a bright yellow polo shirt that fit in all the right places.

  “Someone said there’s a crazy lady with some cam—whoa there!” the voice said.

  “Zack!”

  My open bag dropped to the floor as he reached up to rub his forehead, which was dotted with blood. Did I smash him with the door? Mort-i-fy-ing.

  “Oh! Your head!” My voice sounded like one of the lady mice from Cinderella.

  “Hey, is that your mom out there?” He pointed and winced as he raised his eyebrows. She was still out there, smiling with her hands on her hips as Mr. Miller was shoveling the mess into the trailer. How did she get him to do that? Some of the students had their cell phones out and were taking pictures. Gah! One of them was Ashley. Please don’t let this turn up on the Internet.

  I tried to think of what Liv would tell me. Be flirtatious but not needy. Bat your eyelashes but not so much that you look like a crazy person. I tried, I really did, but for the record, it is impossible to be cute and flirty whenever large mammal excrement is present. When I tried to reply to Zack, two things happened. One: I said, “Unngh.”

  Seriously. Why couldn’t I have one-tenth of my mother’s charm?!

  And two: I shook my head so hard (trying to knock out the memory of smashing him with the door no doubt) that I lost my balance and toppled back into the door.

  Zack stood there, giving me the strangest look I’d ever seen.

  “Do you need some help?” He scanned the floor and dropped to a knee to pick up the rest of my books.

  Yes. I definitely needed help. Full psychiatric evaluation, please.

  Deep breath. I had to redeem myself. “Thanks you. Er…thank you,” I said finally, feeling my face flush. Were my ears red? They sure were burning.

  Looking at his blue eyes, I had to remind myself that he was the crush of my sworn enemy. He was pretty adorable though, standing there looking all tanned with his hair messed up like that. Only Zack could look good after getting attacked by a door.

  No! I reminded myself, the mental vision of Ashley’s piercing glare shooting through me.

  “Sure, you’re welcome. So I hear your grandpa is Shep Foster.” He kept looking back and forth between me and the camels past the glass door. You know things are bad when you play second fiddle to a camel derriere. He looked down at me and smirked.

  “Where did you hear that?” My hands balled into fists as I thought about what I would do if Daz had told anybody.

  “Oh. You haven’t seen yet.” He stifled a laugh, and I could feel the blood rush to my chest. Was he laughing at me?

  “Okay…? Sorry about your head.” I handed him a tissue from my pocket for him to dab the blood. Hopefully it was free of crickets.

  “Gotta go. See you around, Annie.” He nodded, handing me my books.

  Annie.

  Hearing him say my name (sort of) sent a chill to my toes, and I instantly forgot about his smirk.

  He’s so pretty.

  I was about to make a clean getaway when my mother’s face appeared at the door. “You forgot your keys!” she said, handing them over. Before I could cut her off, she gave me a conspiratorial smile and said far too loudly, “Ooh, was that Zack?!”

  Might as well face it: my life was officially over.

  What I Should Have Said to Zack

  1.“Actually, no. That isn’t my mother. My mother is a wealthy entrepreneur in Italy. She would never be caught dead in a safari hat. Say, do you like tennis?”

  2.“Of course I’m not related to Shep Foster. Can’t you tell by my complete inability to string together a sentence in public?”

  3.Anything. Coherent.

  I had assumed that the camel poop/Zack smashing would be the worst part of my day.

  Sometimes I can be so stupid.

  As I walked alone to my locker, the first thing I noticed was all the stares. Everybody was gawking at me. A few girls giggled and then quickly looked away as I made my way closer to them.

  Please tell me that Daz didn’t tell everybody. Why would he do that? Doesn’t he have a soul?

  “Hey, Ana—nice shorts!” a random voice boomed out, making me flinch. I jerked my head down at my shorts; there was nothing wrong with them…no random bits of animal fur or anything.

  Brooke, who was somehow without her fellow Sneerers, peeked out from her locker as I walked by, with her mouth open like she wanted to say something but stopped herself. There was a distinct look of pity in her eyes.

  Anger, I could take. Hostility? Sure.

  But pity coming from Brooke was entirely new and it crawled over me like a scorpion. And it scared the you-know-what out of me. I forced one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the dull throb in my head as I reached my bank of lockers.

  A familiar tall shadow jogged up beside me in the hall. “Hey, Ana…” Kevin seemed out of breath. “I was wondering if you could help me? Um, outside. Let’s go outside. It’s really nice out this morning, and we could go over some more math before class…”

  I stopped, trying to shove the lump in my throat back to my stomach. People were still staring, but Kevin was blocking most of them with his sheer height in front of me. He wasn’t slouching like he normally did; instead his shoulders were squared.

  I gritted my teeth. “What is it, Kev? Did Daz tell everybody about Grandpa? Because he totally promised he wouldn’t—he can’t do this to me all the time,” I sputtered. I could feel the back of my throat begin to ache.

  Kevin shook his head. “No, it’s not that. He didn’t say anything. I promise. It’s only…” He peeked behind him, and it was only then that I noticed something on the walls. A poster.

  My jaw dropped as the crowd around me began to laugh. I shoved Kevin out of the way, despite his protests not to go to my locker. I didn’t need to: every locker within fifty feet of mine was plastered with a photocopied poster.

  Of my butt.

  I gripped my backpack straps hard as I felt the tips of my fingers tingle. It wasn’t just my butt. It was Sugar and I, standing at the front desk of that fancy hotel. I wouldn’t stand a chance next to Sugar at the best of times, but this was so much worse. There was a huge, revolting stain on the back of my shorts. My breath squeezed out of me as I inspected the picture. Whoever had done the photocopying had the courtesy to circle my rear with a thick, black Sharpie. I knew that stain was nothing but dirt from the zoo, but in the picture it looked ridiculously terrible.

  Underneath was the caption “Shep Foster’s granddaughter bonds with his supermodel-actress girlfriend.” Above the picture, someone had scrawled in huge bloc
k letters “LOOKS LIKE SCALES HAD AN ACCIDENT.”

  A weak cry escaped my throat, but I couldn’t form any words.

  Kevin reached over to steady me. “I was trying to get them all down before you came in. This was the last bank of lockers…” he mumbled. I noticed his back pocket was stuffed full of crumpled-up posters.

  I wanted to kick every locker I could see. The edges of my vision actually began to blur red, like I was some sort of vampire on a rampage. If only I had that kind of strength, I could freak every last one of them out.

  “There were more of them?!” I seethed.

  Kevin sighed but gave a nod, pulling the stack from his back pocket. “Only a few.”

  I didn’t even have to pretend to think about who had done this. The Sneerers plastered my butt with its totally understandable stain all over school.

  I shouldn’t be surprised, really. But that didn’t make the burning in my chest go away.

  I needed Liv. She would have the perfect retaliation for them. She would smirk and wave her magic Liv wand and act like none of this mattered, and we’d laugh the whole thing off over a plate of curly fries.

  But she was gone, exploring her new home. Grandpa had been in town for less than a week and already I was literally the poster child for being a loser. And I had no one.

  Ignore them. Just ignore them.

  I inspected myself in the spotted bathroom mirror one more time and chanted a mantra to get me through the afternoon. I couldn’t miss Ms. Fenton’s class. I was going to hand in my project no matter what was plastered all over the school.

  I splashed cold water on my face one final time. My eyes looked almost back to normal, and my nose wasn’t red and runny anymore. I could do this.

  I stepped out of the bathroom, heading straight for my locker. The world felt different now that everyone knew I was related to Shep Foster. Like the spotlight that was normally shined on him now swung over to me, blinding me with burning light. Ms. Fenton’s classroom hushed the minute I walked in. Everyone turned to stare at me, and it seemed like the air was being sucked out of the room. I kept my eyes down and beelined for my bench, where Bella was now sitting.

  She gave me a small smile.

  Thankfully, Ms. Fenton spoke up. “All right, my little turnips! Time to hand in your True Selves projects! I’m giving you a free period for the rest of the hour to catch up on any work you might have missed during your last week.”

  The class murmured with excitement.

  “You’re welcome!” Ms. Fenton said, her voice sounding like her usual happy self. I couldn’t help but be jealous of her. She never seemed to have a bad day and didn’t seem to be afraid of being at the front of the room getting attention all day.

  I dropped off my project at the front, as Ms. Fenton sorted them into piles of paintings, sculptures, and mixed media pieces like Bella’s. She gave me a weird look when I handed her mine, but it was probably because she’d recently seen my photocopied butt on a locker somewhere. A niggling feeling followed me back to my desk as I sat down, the dark lines of the charcoal clinging to my mind. Usually when I handed in a project for Ms. Fenton, I felt a charge of satisfaction. Like I’d done something that made even me proud. But this time? Something gross and icky was swirling inside of me.

  Bella looked up at me. “Bad day, huh?”

  I grimaced. “The worst.”

  “Is Shep Foster really your granddad?” She didn’t ask in a mean, taunting way. More like she was actually interested.

  No hiding it now. My mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls. “Yeah. I have to be on TV.”

  Those words did not sound good coming out of my mouth.

  Bella nodded slowly as she put together the pieces. “Ouch.”

  “I know, right?”

  We sat there like that for the rest of the hour with our books open, pretending to do some work. But really, we just talked.

  “Ana, would you mind staying a moment?” Ms. Fenton touched my elbow on the way out of art class. After such a downer day, I couldn’t wait to get home and away from everyone’s prying eyes.

  “Hmm?” I avoided the stares of other kids as Ms. Fenton lead me to the side of the room, but still managed to catch Bella’s worried eyebrow scrunch as she left.

  “I wanted to talk to you for a moment.” Ms. Fenton sat cross-legged on her desk, pulling my poster board toward her. I sat beside her.

  “Do you not like it?” The swirls of doubt began to mix in my stomach. I knew something felt off when I handed it in. But I wasn’t sure why. Looking at it now, I wanted to tear it from her hands and throw it in the garbage by the door.

  She shook her head. “It’s not that, Ana. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it. You see, it doesn’t feel like it’s you, you know?” She lifted the poster, outlining some of the areas with her fingers. Her eyes were narrowed. “The animals are well done, and I understand your choice to use charcoal, but…” She paused. “You seem so colorful in real life! I understand that animals are a huge part of your life, but the art you’ve made before used to be so vibrant and lively. And the way you’ve drawn yourself here in the corner? So tiny. You’re literally barely in this collage. And who is this way over here?” She touched the second stick figure. “I know you must be feeling weird without Liv around.” She lowered her voice.

  There’s an understatement.

  “I guess I want to see that you’re okay. If you’re happy with this, that’s fine. I just wanted to give you another chance. If you wanted it.” She set the poster down again.

  My lungs felt squished, like I couldn’t get in a full breath. I hated the feeling that Ms. Fenton wasn’t happy with my project. Like I was disappointing her. The more I looked at my poster, the less I liked it. Embarrassed tears pricked at my eyes.

  “What do you think?” she asked, peering over at me. She was smiling, but I could see the concern in her eyes. “Is this really you right now?”

  I shrugged. I wanted to tell her that my true self was a mess right now. That I wasn’t brave no matter what I did, and that my stupid project didn’t matter. But I knew I couldn’t say that to her. She was way too nice and didn’t deserve snark from me. The tiny line between her eyebrows when she glanced at me made me want to cry. All I wanted to do was stop looking at my ugly, dark project with my tiny stick person and get out of there. It wasn’t me, was it? I couldn’t get my mouth to work.

  “Tell you what,” she said when I didn’t respond. “I don’t have to have your grade in until next week. If you want to try again, you can get it to me by the dance on Monday. I’ll be a chaperone, so you can find me there. Sound good?”

  I nodded, grateful for a quick way out of this conversation. My skin felt like it might catch fire I was so ashamed. “If you do stick with this one, do I have your permission to display it with the others?”

  I snatched the project from the desk. There was no way I wanted people seeing it, my true self or otherwise. “Um, no,” I said. “If that’s okay. I’m going to, um, keep it for now. I’ll get something back to you soon.” I rolled up the poster with shaky hands and stuffed it into my backpack. I’d have to think of something else. Just looking at this one made me feel sick.

  She hopped off the desk and followed me out the door. “Have a good night, Ana!” She called out as I scurried down the hall.

  I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than I had after my butt became front-page news. But this day was turning out to be one big low after another.

  chapter 9

  “A chimpanzee can recognize itself in a mirror.”

  —Animal Wisdom

  So, really what they’re saying is that’s one more animal that is smarter than Daz. Because I’ve seen him preening in the mirror, and boy, it is not pretty. There’s no way he’s self-aware.

  Tap tap tap.

  The sound of fingern
ails on glass made me drop my pen onto my homework and shuffle over to the window of my new room.

  Argh! “Can I help you?” I asked, squinting against the bright sun. A group of six or seven teenagers were standing outside my window, obviously thinking I was part of an exhibit. “The lion exhibit is around the other side, where the sign is!” I slammed the window shut, mumbling to myself. The smell of hay and dampness wafted in after me.

  It was official: we’d been living in the zoo for one day, and I was already sick of it.

  Top Three Things about Living in a Zoo That You Don’t Realize until You Move In:

  1.No matter how many pillows you pile over your head, you will not be able to drown out the sound of lions grumbling all night long like they’re noisy guests on a late-night talk show that’s filming in your backyard.

  2.In a normal house, if you hear screeching, it means something bad is happening. In the zoo, if you hear screeching, it just means it’s feeding time at the African Birds Pavilion. Those birds are squawkier than the Sneerers playing dodgeball.

  3.Despite what I thought, the zoo is actually a great place to disappear. Who’s going to look at me when they can look at zebras? Or giraffes? Or polar bears? It is an anonymite’s dream here.

  That didn’t mean there weren’t some things I had to get used to. So far, I’d had six random groups of zoo visitors tapping on my window, and the resident pelicans that have free rein of the area have decided to strut around like they own the place, attacking me with their floppy beaks whenever I leave the house. I was already regretting picking the larger room. It was also the one with the cross breeze from the hippos.

  Barf.

  Slogging into the kitchen for some homework fuel of milk and cookies, I nodded to Mom at the kitchen table and ignored Daz, who was running upstairs with a hedgehog in his hands. This house was much smaller than our normal one, so there were still some boxes of unpacked dishes and cutlery left on the floor. I grabbed a glass from an open box and made for the milk as Darwin chattered at me from his cage.