Love Me, Love My Broccoli

by Julie Anne Peters

"Is that your boyfriend, the picture you taped to Rhett's face?" her mother asked.

  Chloe felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Whatever possessed me to do that? she asked herself, ripping the tiny yearbook picture off and crumpling it.

  "He's cute," she said. "He reminds me of a boyfriend I once had in college. I don't remember his name, there were so many. We must share a preference for blondes." She smiled at Chloe.

  Chloe gagged inwardly. She kicked off her wet rubber boots and crawled into the window seat. Curling into a tight ball, she ground her chin into her knees. Her mother encroached on her space, examining the posters of endangered species, leafing through her closet, petting her cat. When Deaf weaved through her mother's legs, Chloe mouthed to him, Traitor.

  "You probably wondered why I chose your father to marry," her mother said. With a girlish giggle she shook her head. "That mop of bushy hair, and believe me back then he had twice as much as he does now, plus a beard. It's too bad you inherited that from him. Not the beard." She winked at Chloe.

  Chloe faked amusement.

  "Fortunately," her mother continued, "you got my nose and skin."

  "Mother, is there a point to this?"

  She picked up Chloe's November issue of Vegetarian Times, the one with the tofu turkey on the cover, and set it back down on the bed. "He was an activist too, your father. Always involved in some cause—government cover-ups, Vietnam, the starving children of Africa. He didn't have the time of day for someone like me. A college cheerleader? Horrors!" The corners of her mother's mouth turned up. "But I somehow managed to reel him in."

  She reached into Chloe's cedar chest and fished out the fedora, which she placed on her head in front of the full-length mirror. "Physical beauty, that's what attracts men. I don't mean to say character isn't important. It is. But like most southern belles, I was brought up to believe that a woman who nurtures her outer beauty will naturally blossom within."

  Chloe made a snorting sound.

  Her mother pursed her lips. She removed the fedora and reached for the hat on the bureau. Chloe's green pillbox.

  Like a bullet Chloe shot across the room. She rescued the hat from her mother's clutches. "Don't," Chloe said. "That one's . . ." She expelled a breath. "What are you doing here, anyway, Mother?" She set the pillbox back on the bureau.

  Her mother lowered herself onto Chloe's bed and patted the spot next to her. "Let's talk."

  Resigning herself to the inevitable, Chloe perched rigidly beside her mother. Was she going to mention the cruelty-free committee? Chloe wondered. Would there be an argument, another verbal skirmish over misplaced loyalties? She braced for the assault.

  "Your father called me. He wanted to talk about sex."

  That's a relief, Chloe thought. Her head shot up. "What did you say?" Her eyes widened at her mother's reflection in the mirror.

  Her mother laughed. "I thought that might get your attention. Actually, he wanted some advice about—how shall I put this delicately—he says you're boy crazy."

  "What!" She turned to face her. "For your information, and his, I am not boy crazy. I'm just crazy about one boy." Oh, no. Why did I say that? she chided herself.

  Her mother smiled. "Of course you are." She extended a hand to stroke Chloe's flaming cheek, but Chloe recoiled. "Your father's overreacting, as usual. And I told him so."

  Chloe's eyebrows arched. "You did?"

  She nodded. "He told me what happened the night of the Halloween party, along with his totally inept handling of the situation." She shook her head. "I shouldn't be so hard on him. He does love you. If he could, he'd have you banished to some faraway kingdom. His little princess Chloe."

  "Oh really, Mother." Chloe rose to her feet and leaned against the bureau, arms folded.

  "It's the truth, darling. Fatherly love. No boy is ever good enough for daddy's little darling. Eccentric as your father is, he's no exception there."

  Chloe thought she'd have to mull that over for a while. Accepting that her mother could confer even a quark of wisdom would take a cosmic event of some significance.

  "I told him he made a mistake by forbidding you to see—what's his name?"

  "Brett," Chloe mumbled. Her eyes strayed to the floorboard under her mother's stiletto heels.

  "Brett. Rhymes with Rhett, doesn't it?"

  Chloe met her mother's teasing eyes. She seethed.

  Her mother rose and smoothed her fitted skirt over her thighs. "After some discussion he agreed," she said. "Even though he is a stubborn old coot, like his mother. Who, by the way, should be committed. Do you know she snuck up behind me today, jabbed a carrot in my back, and demanded I surrender the submarine?"

  Chloe sucked in a smile.

  "I told your father how unfair it was to expect a girl your age to take care of a dotty old woman. I don't suppose he pays you to be her caregiver?"

  "Mother!" Chloe was aghast at the suggestion.

  "I didn't think so. Getting back to the original discussion, your father does see the logic in allowing you to grow up, since he can't seem to stop the process. Unfortunately, none of us can." Leaning into the mirror, she stretched her eyes taut at the temples.

  Chloe glanced up into her mother's reflection. She really is beautiful, Chloe thought. For someone her age. Should I tell her? No. I wouldn't want her to build any more character from within. Anyway, I'm still trying to figure out what she just said. Did she mean . . .?

  "You'd better go call him, darling," her mother answered Chloe's unspoken question. Pivoting in place, she headed off across the room, heels clicking like a metronome on the hardwood floor. She paused at the door to wriggle her fingers into leather gloves before adding, "We wouldn't want him to find somebody else while you're pining away up here in Tara."

  Chloe sneered at her mother's back as she exited. "By the way, dear," she poked her head in again. "I received a call from the marketing director last week down in Atlanta." Chloe detected the slightest hint of a southern accent. "She told me there was a bill coming up in the legislature that would literally outlaw Desiree Cosmetics in this state. It has something to do with animal rights. Are you by any chance involved?"

  Chloe swallowed hard. Then she squared her shoulders and said, "Of course I'm involved."

  Her mother's jaw set. "Well, I'm late for my makeover," she said and shut the door hard.

  CHAPTER 14

  No sooner had the lavender Lexus backed down the driveway than Chloe was out the door and down the stairs. She smiled at her father, hopefully reassuring him he was doing the right thing. He shrugged, but she saw the relief flood his face.

  Chloe knew Brett would be at the football field. It was Saturday. Saturday meant football. Racing across the school's front lawn, she heard the final whistle along with the echo of cheers from the bleachers. By the time she reached the field, all the players were in the locker room.

  "Rats," Chloe muttered. "I missed him." She retreated to the front hallway and chewed on her knuckles, waiting.

  A few minutes later players began to emerge from the gym, hauling duffel bags and meeting with their friends and families. Chloe stood on her tiptoes, straining to catch sight of Brett.

  Finally she spotted him sauntering down the hall next to Turk. The question flashed through her mind: What if my mother was right? What if he's given up on me? What if he's meeting somebody else? Somebody new.

  Brett stopped to talk to one of the cheerleaders. Chloe felt a shiver of fear slither down her spine. A minute later Brett left Turk with the cheerleader and headed Chloe's way.

  She watched anxiously as he jockeyed his duffel over his shoulder and trundled toward her, head down. I don't know whether I'm going to burst into laughter or tears, she thought. She nearly bit through her knuckle.

  He glanced up suddenly and saw her. His pace slowed almost to a stop, then he began to trot. The trot turned into a sprint. In front of the trophy case he dropped his duffel and grabbed her shoulders.

  She smiled up at him. "I'm baa-aack.
"

  Chloe's life returned to normal, as normal as it could be, considering. There were changes; love always brings change. Now they were officially a couple. Brett and Chloe. Chloe and Brett. They ate lunch together three, sometimes four times a week, while Muriel held down the ARC table. They had a standing date after school, either at Cal's Tex Mex or the library where Brett could play video games while Chloe read. Muriel said she didn't mind walking home alone, although Chloe felt a little pang of guilt every time she saw Muriel leaving by herself.

  Football was Brett's consuming passion. Chloe didn't exactly share his fervor, but she did try. The Aspen Grove Cougars were winning, going to the playoffs, and she couldn't help getting swept up in the spirit of victory. So what if she was sandwiched between the spirit squad and the band at the games? So what if she was beginning to recite the school cheers in her sleep? So what if Brett asked her to wear jeans to the games instead of her East Indian wrap? Maybe love means never having to say you're sari.

  To spend more time with Brett, Chloe cut back on her hours at the animal shelter, too. Only temporarily, she told herself, until football season is over.

  "A love slave, that's what she called me." Chloe told Brett as he walked her to the animal shelter on Sunday afternoon. Chloe clucked, remembering her latest curt conversation with Muriel.

  Brett smiled down on Chloe. "I like the sound of that."

  The snow crunched under their feet. "I don't understand her," Chloe continued. "I'm just as committed as I've always been to the movement. Okay, so she didn't want to work the ARC table by herself. Why does that make it my fault the whole thing was abandoned? I'm still the voice of youth at the legislative committee hearing, even though she's writing the whole speech." Chloe huffed. "Oh, that doesn't bother me, but she accused you of possessing me. She said you're making me compromise my principles. I don't see you choking any cheeseburgers down me." She looked up at him. "Do you think I'm an arm ornament?"

  "A what?"

  "You know. Someone with no identity. A decoration. An extension of somebody else."

  He laughed. "That's definitely not you, Chloe. I think of you more as . . . a hood ornament."

  She slugged him in the arm. "And while we're on the subject of principles, have you been thinking about what I asked you? You know, becoming a vegetarian?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

  He sighed. "Let's not get into that again."

  "Do you enjoy eating animal corpses?"

  He wrinkled his nose. "That's gross."

  "It is gross. That's the whole point. Think about the dead flesh and chemicals you're putting into your body."

  "I didn't think you had any complaints about my body."

  Chloe blushed. "You know what I mean."

  He took her mittened hand. She felt her conviction waning fast. "Think about the animals, Brett," she said quickly. "Six billion are slaughtered every year for food, and that's just in the U.S. Did you know that if everyone became a vegetarian we'd have four tons of grain for every starving person in the world?"

  He released her hand. "Do you and Muriel sit around and memorize wikipedia, or what? Look, Chloe. I respect your beliefs, I really do. But don't force them on me, okay? Besides, I can't give up meat. I'm an athlete. We need meat for protein."

  "No, you don't," Chloe's voice regained confidence as she scooted around to face him. "You can get all the protein you need from peanut butter, broccoli, soybeans, lentils. In fact, there's more protein in seaweed than there is in beef."

  He smacked his lips. "Oh, yum. Pass the algae."

  She smiled smugly. She had an argument he couldn't refute. "I've been doing some research. Did you know Prince Fielder is a vegetarian?"

  He widened his eyes at her. "The baseball player?"

  "And Tony Gonzalez."

  "The tight end?"

  "I guess. Although he's not a strict vegetarian anymore. He eats chicken and fish. But Murray Rose, an Australian, won three Olympic gold medals in swimming when he was only seventeen, and he was a vegetarian. And Bill Pearl was a four-time Mr. Universe weightlifter—"

  Brett held up his hand. "Enough. Don't push me. I'll think about it, okay?" He shook his head. Then he smiled, reached up and yanked her beret down over her eyes. He took off and she chased him all the way to the shelter.

  "I'll pick you up at five," Brett said, leaning over to kiss Chloe. "Want to go out tonight? Turk's back with Lyssya, and he thought we might all go for pizza. You know, for old times' sake."

  "Gee, sorry," Chloe said. "I have a book report to write." For next month, she added to herself. "Plus, I promised Muriel—"

  "That you'd read your Sports Illustrateds together?"

  She laughed. Just then the door to the shelter flew open and Nicole Medina came charging out. "Chloe, I'm so glad you're here," she said, out of breath. "There's no one else working today and I need you at the desk. I just got an emergency call."

  "What is it?" Chloe asked. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder.

  "It's those religious fanatics who took over the church up past the mall. We got an anonymous phone tip they're planning to sacrifice a lamb at their service today."

  "What!" Chloe's stomach knotted. "You can't go up there alone, Nicole. I'm coming with you."

  "No, you're not," Brett said, gripping her arm. "The weirdos in those religious cults are totally wacko. If you interfere there's no telling what they'll do."

  Chloe tried to wrench away, but he held firm. "Brett, they're going to kill a lamb. A little lamb for heaven's sake."

  He looked from Chloe to Nicole and back to Chloe. "I'm coming with you," he said.

  Nicole turned the closed sign over and locked the shelter door. "Come on then. My truck's over here."

  CHAPTER 15

  A dozen cars filled the first rows of the church parking lot. Nicole swerved her truck into a space in back and killed the engine.

  "So, what do we do now?" Brett said. "Put sheets on like the ku klux klan?"

  Chloe just looked at him. Sometimes she couldn't tell when he was kidding. She got out of the truck and stood on the plowed blacktop, inspecting the grounds and listening. It seems quiet enough, she thought. Too quiet. There should be an organ playing or voices. Singing, praying, some sign of religious fervor. She headed toward the church.

  Brett and Nicole flanked her. "What are we going to do?" Nicole whispered, hooking her arm in Chloe's.

  "We're going to church," Chloe said. "It's Sunday, isn't it?"

  "You're nuts," Brett muttered.

  "Nuts are full of protein, too." She smiled up at him.

  He shook his head.

  At the entrance Chloe yanked on the carved wooden handle of one of the big double doors. It opened. Dark. Eerie. She stepped inside, trailed closely by Nicole and Brett. She could feel their shallow breathing on the back of her neck as her eyes adjusted to the shadowy vestibule.

  "Okay. There's no one here," Brett said. "Let's go."

  Chloe turned to him. "Don't you think that's strange with all the cars in the parking lot?" She marched across the vestibule and up the center aisle with Brett whispering urgently behind her, "Come back here."

  At the altar she touched her green beret and thought, Befitting attire, Chloe. Maybe I should have packed an apple grenade. This is so bizarre. Where is everyone?

  "Chloe, come here. Listen." Nicole motioned her over near the flickering votive candles where she stood with her ear to the door.

  Chloe followed the altar railing. She cupped her ear next to Nicole's. "Voices," she said. "There must be a basement." She reached for the doorknob. "Let's go."

  "Just a minute." Brett's hand covered hers. "This is insane. I'll go first."

  Chloe beamed up at him. "My hero."

  Turning the knob and pulling open the door, he muttered, "We're going to die. You know that, don't you?"

  She sucked in a smile.

  There was a landing halfway to the basement where the three of them crouched to survey the goings-on. Ch
loe counted four people dressed in drab robes. They were circling a makeshift altar in the center of the room, intoning incantations. The rest of the congregation was filled in around them on folding metal chairs, heads bowed.

  Chloe heard something else. A faint sound, yet distinct and familiar. Whimpering? No, more like whining. Was it the baa of a lamb? She squinted through the dusky basement light.

  There in the corner sat a metal cage, and inside a white animal covered with curly fur. Chloe elbowed Nicole, then Brett, and pointed. Nicole gasped. Under his breath Brett said, "Geeeezus."

  One of the robed men walked to the back and picked up the cage. At the next sound, Chloe and Nicole both pricked up their ears. In unison they announced to each other, "It's a dog."

  "A miniature poodle," Chloe added, straining to get a better look. "Is lamb out of season, or what?"

  "Don't joke around, Chloe," Brett said. "This is serious."

  Nicole grabbed her arm. "Look, he has a knife. I think he's actually going to kill that poodle."

  "Not if I can help it." Chloe stood upright. She charged for the stairs, jerking away from Brett's lunge for her arm. "Excuse me, but are you people for real?" she asked.

  A clamorous scooting of chairs echoed in the basement. People murmured in low voices, some falling to their knees. Chloe announced, "We're from the Aspen Grove animal shelter. We received a report that you were planning to sacrifice a live animal here today. Is that true?" She'd reached the altar and was addressing one of the men in the robes, the one with the knife.

  He glowered at her. "What right do you have to barge in here? This is a sacred ceremony."

  "Sacred?" Chloe scoffed. "More like illegal. I'm sure the police will want to hear all about it. Come here, sweetheart," she cooed to the poodle, sticking a finger in through the wire to calm the dog. At the same time she reached for the cage handle.

  A cold hand plunged over hers. "Do you have a search warrant?"

  She stared up into the hooded black eyes. "Officer Ryan, show him the search warrant," she called over her shoulder.