The Ostrich and Other Lost Things

by Beth Hautala

  We were both quiet. And then she changed the subject completely. “Olivia Dear, you help me so much, I would like to pay you for finding my glasses.”

  “What? No, that’s okay. I don’t mind, really.” She had never paid me before, and she probably needed her money more than I did.

  “Well, I want to,” she said. “And I insist.” There wasn’t much I could say after that, so I just thanked her and took the money. Ten dollars. It seemed like a lot to pay someone just for finding a pair of missing glasses.

  “Think of it this way,” she said. “If I had to purchase a new pair of glasses every time I lost mine, it would be very expensive. You are actually saving me quite a bit of money.”

  That made me feel better. I smiled, gave Mrs. Mackenelli a hug goodbye, and headed across the yard to wait for Dorothy and Stephen’s call.

  10

  Won’t Stop

  JACOB WAS SITTING on the porch step waiting for me to come back from Mrs. Mackenelli’s.

  “Olivia!” He called out to me from across the yard. “Olivia, it’s time for you to play a board game with me!”

  “Hey, Jacob. Maybe later, okay?”

  I wanted to finish rereading my favorite passages from Peter Pan. But even if I had nothing else to do, the truth was I hated board games. I always lost, especially when playing against my brother. Or, if by some genius stroke of luck I did win, Jacob would have a meltdown because he couldn’t stand to lose. It was just easier not to play at all.

  “No, Olivia! No, you WILL PLAY WITH ME NOW!” he screamed at me. And rather than argue with him, I marched up the stairs and into the house.

  “Moooomm! Jacob needs you!”

  “Why is he screaming? What did you say to him, Olivia?”

  What did I—?

  “I didn’t say anything! I just didn’t want to play a game with him!” But Mom didn’t hear me. She was already outside with Jacob.

  * * *

  • • •

  Later that evening, I searched for my brother’s ostrich. Since it wasn’t under the porch, and I’d already searched the whole house in the months since he first lost it, it only made sense to try the shed next—even though Mom and Dad didn’t like us to go in there.

  It was filled with our bikes, garden tools, lawn mower, and other random heavy stuff. I hadn’t been inside the shed in years, and I didn’t think Jacob had, either. It seemed like an unlikely place for him to lose something, but I couldn’t afford to overlook anything now.

  I didn’t realize how cluttered it was inside until I started looking. If I was going to do a really thorough search, I’d need to clear it out first.

  The lawn mower was heavy and kind of awkward. I had to push and pull a lot before I managed to get it out. But once I got it out of the way, I moved our bikes onto the lawn, too. Then two rakes and a garden hoe. Two lawn sprinklers and about three hundred feet of hose, yard games, extra birdseed for the feeders, bike helmets, and the broken tire swing that used to hang from the big oak tree in front of the house. Next I pulled out three pairs of gardening gloves, a plastic Ziploc bag full of various smaller packages of flower seeds, rope, and a hedge trimmer. There was also a chunk of Astroturf. And finally, a spool of clothesline and a box of clothespins. But no toy ostrich. I even got a broom and swept out all the corners and the nooks and crannies overhead, just in case.

  Nothing. No trace anywhere. I was sweaty and exhausted, and suddenly struggling not to cry.

  Just then the porch door opened, and Dad came outside.

  “Olivia?” He stood there in the yard, surveying all the things that used to be inside the shed. “What are you doing?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Well, I just figured, I, uh, would try to help around the house a bit more. You know, to make up for trespassing at the zoo.”

  “I thought that was the point of you working there,” Dad said.

  “Yeah . . .” I cleared my throat. I couldn’t tell him the truth. He might tell Mom what I was up to. And she had already made it clear that she wanted me to go easy on this kind of thing.

  “Well, your mom and I have seen how hard you’ve been working,” Dad said. “We’re proud of your effort, and your attitude has been great. Why don’t you come inside for a bit.”

  “Okay.” But it didn’t feel like I was doing enough. And I wasn’t going to stop until I found Jacob’s ostrich.

  11

  Escapee

  IT WAS THE middle of the night. The house was quiet. Except for the usual night sounds—the hall clock ticking loudly in the dark and the dehumidifier running in the basement—there was nothing out of the ordinary. But I sat up in bed, blinking and listening until the sound of my own breathing clouded the silence. The moon was unusually bright. And something seemed strange. I looked around my room for anything unusual, but everything was exactly the same as when I’d fallen asleep. I glanced outside, and then a shiver ran down my spine. I thought I saw something—odd. I went to the window and peered out, squinting, trying to make my eyes focus. It took a few minutes before my brain understood what I was seeing.

  There was an ostrich in the backyard.

  The giant bird was walking around, quietly. Step by step across the yard, just like a deer might. She even bent her long neck and occasionally pecked at the ground, like a deer nibbling grass. How had she escaped from her pen? Had any of the other animals gotten out? Where was the Komodo dragon? I knew that ostriches couldn’t fly. But maybe they could jump? And how was she going to get back in her cage? Someone was going to have to catch her and bring her back, if she didn’t run away first.

  I leaned on the windowsill and watched her for a minute. How had she found her way to my backyard in the first place? If she was still here in the morning, I’d be in big trouble with Mom and Dad, and the zoo, too. And if she wasn’t here, then what? Would she be safe out in the world when she was only used to living in a cage?

  I had to do something. I crept down into the kitchen. The clock on the microwave read 4:37 a.m. I knew I should wake Mom and Dad and tell them, but something inside me didn’t want to. I was the one who worked at the zoo, so this felt like my responsibility. And Mom and Dad thought I needed to be more responsible, right? Plus, I was a Finder of Lost Things, and this bird had lost her way.

  I took a breath and let it out slowly.

  If I was ever going to get close enough to catch her, I had to find something to lure her with first. I knew what ostriches ate now, because that’s what happens when you work at a zoo. But I didn’t have any ostrich feed. I didn’t even have any birdseed. I looked around the kitchen. Granola. That was the closest thing I could think of. I grabbed the box. It felt light—almost empty. I opened it and saw we had just a handful left. It wouldn’t be enough for the whole walk. So, I grabbed a box of Cap’n Crunch, unlocked the sliding glass patio door that led into the backyard, grabbed a hoodie and sneakers, and stepped outside.

  Ethel was standing there in the moonlight. She turned her head, stretching her neck and kind of ducking back and forth like she was trying to get a good look at me, just like she had when I first stood in front of her cage. Maybe she recognized me. I shook the box of cereal, quietly, and made kissing noises, the way you call a dog. Her wing feathers ruffled as she kind of shook them out. Like she was thinking.

  “Here girl,” I called softly. “Come here. Don’t be afraid. I’ve got something for you!” I was trying to be brave, but my voice shook. Scared-excited. Dad would be up around six o’clock, so I didn’t have that much time. But still the ostrich didn’t move. So, one step at a time, I inched across the yard in the moonlight, shaking my box of Cap’n Crunch and making friendly, encouraging “here girl” noises. I could feel my sneakers getting soaked in the heavy dew.

  Ethel didn’t run away, but she didn’t come closer, either. She just stood there, looking at me with her big, big eyes. She blin
ked, holding very still, and I blinked back from just a few feet away. I wasn’t sure what to do now that I was this close. I was afraid to touch her.

  I opened the box of cereal and sprinkled some into the grass.

  “There you go. You hungry, girl?”

  The ostrich ducked her head, listening to the sound of my voice, and then abruptly stretched her long neck and pecked up the cereal. I took a step or two back and sprinkled a little more in the grass. She took a step, too, and ate more cereal. Step by step, I led the ostrich across my backyard and down the road back toward the zoo.

  The box of Cap’n Crunch was almost gone by the time we got there. It took me way longer to get Ethel back than I’d thought it would. The sky was starting to shift colors by the time I looked up and saw the zoo gate and its NOT OPEN TO THE PUBLIC sign. It was open, though, just enough for an ostrich to get out. I pushed the gate open a little more, and Ethel followed me back inside. But I couldn’t bring her all the way back to her enclosure. I didn’t want to risk attracting the monkeys’ attention, or worse, get in trouble for trespassing again. Especially with Ethel out of her cage. What if someone thought I’d let her out?

  I emptied the last of the Cap’n Crunch on the ground. “There you go, girl. Someone will be here soon to let you back into your cage.” And while she was busy with the cereal, I sneaked back out of the gate and closed it tightly behind me, securing the latch. The chain and padlock that were usually around the gate were just hanging there. I wrapped the chain back around the gate and its post, and clicked the padlock into place. Vera would never forget to lock the gate, but maybe someone else had forgotten when they’d gone home the night before. Maybe I could find a way to casually ask about it when I came back soon for my Responsibility Hours.

  * * *

  • • •

  The sky was getting lighter and lighter as I ran all the way back home. I crossed through the backyard and through the patio door just in time to meet Dad on his way into the kitchen.

  “Olivia! You’re up early. What were you doing outside?”

  I glanced down at my soaking-wet shoes.

  “I, um, was just out watching the sunrise.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I did watch the sunrise. All the way back home from the zoo.

  “The sunrise?” Dad opened a can of ground coffee, and the smell of Folgers drifted into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, I woke up early and it was really pretty.” Again, not a lie.

  “Okay. Well . . . good.” He sounded confused, but I couldn’t tell him I’d been bringing an ostrich back to the zoo for the past hour and a half. I’d be in so much trouble, and I’d had enough of that lately. Besides, if the whole point of my time at the zoo was to learn responsibility, taking Ethel back on my own was the responsible thing to do. It made sense to just keep quiet about it.

  “You hungry? Want some breakfast?” Dad asked.

  I was starving.

  “I think your mom got some new cereal the other day . . .” Dad rummaged around in the pantry.

  “Yeah, she did.” I cleared my throat. “But it’s gone.”

  He poked his head out of the pantry. “The whole box?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. You and your brother polished that off pretty quickly.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Well, how about eggs then?”

  I nodded, watching as Dad poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge.

  * * *

  • • •

  When I arrived at the zoo later, everything seemed normal. Ethel was no longer roaming around by the front gate, and Vera was waiting to give me my assignments. I was dying to ask her about what had happened with Ethel, but then I’d have to explain how I knew she’d been out to begin with. Instead, I pulled on my rubber boots, found a wheelbarrow in the big storage building, and loaded up the tools I would need to help Phil with the monkey cage.

  But first, I had to see Ethel. Just for a minute. So, I took a slight detour on my way to meet Phil. I needed to make sure Ethel was okay, and I wanted to see if she would be friendly after the morning we’d had together.

  She wasn’t.

  She was just as disapproving as she’d been when I saw her in her cage the day before. It was like nothing had ever happened.

  “Did you hear she got out of her pen last night?” Phil walked over to where I stood, staring at Ethel.

  “Really?” I tried to act surprised. “Weird. Has that ever happened before?”

  “Nope. First time.”

  “Did you put her back in her cage?”

  “Yep. I did.”

  “Was her enclosure unlocked?”

  “Yep. It was.”

  Phil didn’t like to use any more words than necessary.

  “So, someone let her out?”

  Phil shrugged. “Guess so.”

  “Who do you think would do that?”

  “Don’t know,” he said.

  “Well, maybe someone thought she needed to go for a walk.” I laughed a little, trying to be funny.

  Phil glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “Never mind,” I said.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “The monkeys are waiting.” Then he picked up my wheelbarrow and pushed it toward the monkey cages.

  Phil didn’t think things were funny. And he wasn’t much for conversation. It’s hard to talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk back. But I was relieved he didn’t seem to suspect I had anything to do with Ethel getting out.

  Still, all the unanswered questions dug at my mind the way things do when something goes missing and I can’t find it right away. Whoever had let the ostrich out was a mystery. If I paid attention and looked out for clues, maybe I could solve it.

  12

  The Pink Ones

  BY THE END of the week, the zoo was ready to open, and I was starting to get the hang of things. I hadn’t knocked over any buckets or spilled any bins of feed since my first day. None of the donkeys had kicked me, and even Phil didn’t seem to mind when I was around. Plus, it was a great distraction from waiting for Dorothy and Stephen’s call.

  After I finished my hours on Friday, I stood in front of the ostrich enclosure. This had become our routine. The giant bird would walk around a little bit and peck at the ground a few times to see if I was really going to stay, and once she was sure about me, we’d just stand there and stare at each other.

  I liked to imagine all the places she’d been before she ended up here in Prue’s piece of the Tulsa Zoo. Especially now that I knew she had been out of her pen.

  That afternoon, Ethel and I were staring at each other when a voice I hadn’t heard before interrupted.

  “I like the pink ones best,” he said, inhaling deeply.

  I jumped because I hadn’t heard anyone walk up, but there he was, standing just behind me wearing a white T-shirt, dark sunglasses, and a grin. I glanced down at the package of candy in my hand. I was sucking on an orange Starburst, but I liked the pink ones best, too.

  “Sometimes you have to eat through a lot of yellow ones, though. Before you get any pink. Do you think they plan it that way? I mean, imagine getting a whole package of pink ones!” He paused, thinking about that, and then shrugged. “Maybe they wouldn’t taste as good, though, you know? Maybe it’s the yellow ones that make the pink taste so good.” He nodded, agreeing with himself, and then stuck out his hand in my general direction. “Hi. I’m Charlie.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Hi. I’m Olivia. I work here.” It felt good to say that to this boy in his T-shirt and shades. I shook his hand.

  “Yes, I know,” he said. “My mom told me about you.”

  “Really? Who’s your mom?”

  “Vera Winslow.”

  I blinked. “Oh,” I said again. I had not been expecting that.

  “Sh
e said I had to wait till you were more comfortable here before I could come and introduce myself.”

  “She did?”

  He nodded and I stood up a little taller.

  “Well,” I said, “it’s nice to meet you, Charlie Winslow. You want a Starburst?”

  He grinned. I looked down at my hand, and then I grinned, too, because the next one in the package was pink.

  * * *

  • • •

  By the time we were on our second Starbursts, I’d learned that Charlie and his mom lived in Tulsa, but that they were here in Prue with the zoo until renovations were complete. For the rest of the summer, basically. He was twelve years old, and he’d been around the zoo his whole life. He didn’t have a dad. He liked radio talk shows. And he was blind.

  I don’t think I would have noticed that last part if he hadn’t said anything. At least not right away. I mean, he didn’t look blind. Sure, he was wearing sunglasses, but it was also sunny.

  “How did you know I was eating Starbursts if you can’t, um, see?” I asked.

  He smiled and tapped his nose.

  “So, you have like, super smell or something?”

  “No,” he laughed. “They just have their own smell and it’s really fruity. Haven’t you ever noticed?”

  I sniffed the package in my hand, trying to remember, but I couldn’t. I guess since I always saw things first, I didn’t pay as much attention to what they smelled like.

  And even though I didn’t know all that much about Charlie, he seemed like the kind of person I could tell things to. Like whatever I told him, he’d keep it safe. So, I decided to let him in on my little secret.

  “Ethel got out of her pen last night,” I said in a low voice. “And out of the zoo, all the way to my backyard.”