Left Behind

by Laurie Halse Anderson

“No. But I haven’t been paying attention to the weather reports anyway. Should we make a salad, do you think?” I feel a little funny going through Dr. Mac’s kitchen without Maggie or Zoe around, but Dr. Mac asked us to find something for dinner. She should be back to eat with us soon.

  “I think we owe it to Zoe to prepare a healthy salad to go along with her healthy casserole. They really do eat better when Zoe is around, don’t you think?” Brenna asks, pulling lettuce and yellow peppers from the refrigerator.

  “Definitely,” I say as we wash our hands. “Do you know when Zoe gets back?” I get the cutting board and vegetable peeler. I start in on the carrots and cucumber. The smell of the cucumber makes me hungry.

  “Not for another week. I think Maggie misses her more than she lets on. She’s always a little cranky when Zoe visits her mom. That’s one reason I was glad you were staying over. It was one of the reasons I was hoping to stay, too. Keep her from missing Zoe so much. Of course, she’d never admit it.” Brenna reaches over and picks up the cucumber slices and tosses them into the salad bowl.

  I slice the carrots. It seems like Zoe comes and goes a lot; sometimes she’s with her actress mom—in Hollywood or on whatever location she’s shooting—and sometimes she’s here in Pennsylvania. I knew that Zoe sometimes has a hard time with the changes, but I never considered that Maggie might, too. But Brenna did. Brenna noticed and she wanted to be there for her friend. Now I feel guilty. Maybe I’m not such a good friend.

  Dr. Mac walks through the doorway into the kitchen. “Quite a day,” she says.

  Brenna hands her a slice of pepper and nods her head. Dr. Mac eats it and swipes another. “Delicious,” she says, and sinks onto a high counter stool. She looks around.

  “Where’s Maggie?” she asks.

  “Taking Sherlock for a walk,” I say.

  “Oh dear,” Dr. Mac says. “How long ago did she leave? Should I get my car keys and see if I can find them?”

  Brenna says, “It hasn’t been that long. Fifteen minutes?” She looks at me for confirmation.

  “Fifteen or twenty,” I suggest.

  “Well, we’ll wait another fifteen and then I’ll see if I can find where Sherlock plopped down. You never can get very far with him.” Dr. Mac steals a cucumber from the bowl.

  I finish slicing the carrots. “Does anyone want tomatoes in that salad?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Dr. Mac and Brenna say at the same time. I grab one from the counter and rinse it. I slice it in fat chunks. Juice runs across the board and seeds spill out. I’m making a mess, but it looks delicious.

  “So how are you guys feeling about the idea of our vet tech?” Dr. Mac looks at me and then at Brenna. “Can I answer any questions?”

  “I’m not really sure how I feel,” Brenna says. “It’s kind of a surprise.”

  “And you, Sunita? What are you thinking?” Dr. Mac grabs a paper towel and mops up some of the tomato juice that is inching along the counter from the cutting board.

  “It makes sense,” I say. “I mean, it will take some getting used to, but I think it’s the smart thing to do.” I feel funny, a little like I’m betraying Maggie and Brenna by agreeing that this is a good idea. But what Dr. Mac is saying makes perfect sense to me.

  Dr. Mac looks at me and asks, “Girls, have you ever heard the phrase ‘kicking the can down the road’?”

  “Is it like the game Kick the Can that kids play?” Brenna asks.

  “The game we play sometimes in the clinic parking lot when it’s empty,” I suggest.

  “It does sound like that game. But actually, it doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’ve been ‘kicking the can down the road’ for a while now. I’ve been putting off solving my problem of being too busy at the clinic. So instead of dealing with the fact that I needed to hire more professional help, I delayed making a decision. Somewhere in my brain I think I’ve convinced myself that the problem will just go away. I’ve made changes to avoid addressing the real issue. I work too many hours myself. I take advantage of the kindness and the work ethic of Dr. Gabe, so he, in turn, works too many hours. I rely a little too much on all of you, as well as the patients’ families, for extra hands. It was time to stop putting off this decision. So I picked up the can and dealt with it.”

  Brenna and I sit quietly for a moment. It makes sense when she explains it like that.

  “I think it might take Maggie a little longer to get used to the idea, though,” I suggest.

  “And Maggie has had the longest time to adjust already,” Dr. Mac says. Brenna and I look at each other. What does she mean? She must have read our minds, because she says, “Over the years, I’ve mentioned a number of times—to both Maggie and Zoe—that someday we would need a vet tech. Maggie has never liked the idea, but it’s certainly not news to her. Zoe has always suggested that I hire a ‘cute guy’ to be our tech. So she isn’t going to be happy, either.”

  For some reason, this strikes us all as funny, and we laugh. I can just picture Zoe coming back and meeting our new vet tech. Melissa is not the guy Zoe had in mind. Still chuckling, Brenna says, “Zoe will make sure she’s not away when you hire that second vet tech. She’ll probably conduct her own interviews.”

  “She’s never one to be shy about what she wants,” Dr. Mac agrees. For some reason, this makes me think of Sylvester.

  “Dr. Mac, did Dr. Gabe mention anything to you about a lamb at the Van Hoven horse farm?” I ask.

  “Well, let me see, I think he said something about trying to find more sheep for them? They’re going into sheep raising? Is that what you mean?”

  “One of Mrs. Van Hoven’s riders moved away and left behind a lamb for her. Mrs. Van Hoven hasn’t been sure what to do with this one sheep and is thinking about buying another lamb or two. Maybe more,” I say.

  “They have the room for it,” Dr. Mac says. “I’ve helped Dr. Gabe over there a couple of times. Beautiful place. Connie Van Hoven is an experienced breeder.”

  “So you think it’s a good idea, then?” I ask.

  “I don’t see why not,” she says. “I imagine Connie will need to get some education, but I have confidence in her. Why do you ask?”

  The odd thing is, I’m not sure. If Dr. Gabe and Dr. Mac both think it’s a good idea, who am I to wonder? But I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s not the best plan.

  Finally, I say, “I guess I’m wondering if it will be hard—to run a horse farm and raise sheep.” I suppose this is my best guess as to what I’m feeling.

  “It will definitely keep her busy. But Connie Van Hoven can do whatever she sets her mind to. She’s a hard worker, and she can afford to hire some help. Don’t forget she has the space. But if something is troubling you, you should talk to Dr. Gabe about it.” Dr. Mac gets up and looks out the window. She takes her car keys off the hook by the door. “Think I’ll go and see where Maggie and Sherlock ended up.”

  Brenna and I set the table while we wait for them to get back. We put the casserole in the microwave, but we don’t start heating it. If it takes a while for them to return, we don’t want it overcooked or cold. I sit back down at the counter while Brenna washes the cutting board and knives. Socrates walks by and hops up onto the stool beside me. I reach over and scratch him between his ears. He lifts his chin just like my cat, Mittens, does when she wants the petting to go on and on. Socrates rumbles a purr as he steps from the stool onto my lap, all the while keeping his head pressed against my hand. Petting Socrates and thinking about Mittens makes me want to tell Brenna about my new kitten. It would be something fun to talk about after this tough day. But I intended to tell Maggie first, so I’ll wait. I’ll tell them together tonight. Yes. That’s the right thing to do. The best thing to do. I’ll wait.

  Socrates jumps down, so I get up to help Brenna dry the dishes. Socrates pads over and rubs up against my legs. Then he weaves between them before moving o
n to Brenna’s legs.

  “Aren’t you a pretty kitty, aren’t you, now?” Brenna coos to Socrates.

  That’s when I burst out, “I’m getting a kitten!”

  “You are? Fantastic! Does Mittens know about this?” Brenna is as happy as I had hoped Maggie would be with my news.

  “I’ve been dying to tell you and Maggie,” I say. Which is a little fib, since I intended to tell just Maggie last night.

  “So tell me more. When? Where? Have you picked one out or just gotten permission?”

  “I’ll tell you everything when Maggie gets back. I don’t want to have to go through it all twice,” I say. “But let me get my phone. I have some pictures of the litter, and I can show you the one I hope to get.” Finally, something happy to think about!

  Chapter Eleven

  Brenna and I are swiping through the kitten pictures on my phone when Maggie, Sherlock, and Dr. Mac walk in. Sherlock looks like he’s being dragged into the house until he reaches the refrigerator. Then he perks up and practically prances over to his empty supper dish.

  “Not that you deserve it,” Maggie says to Sherlock as she pours kibble into the dish. “Sit,” she tells him. Sherlock does. “Okay” she says, and he begins to chow down.

  Maggie and Dr. Mac must have had some words. Neither one is really looking at the other, and neither one seems very happy. I decide that it’s not a good time to mention my news to Maggie after all.

  “Should I put the casserole in?” I ask Dr. Mac.

  “Please do,” she says. “Your salad looks delicious.”

  Dinner is awkward. Even though we were invited for the weekend, it feels like Brenna and I should not be here. It feels like we’re spying on private family time. Whatever Dr. Mac and Maggie have said to each other, it’s clear that there’s still some tension between them.

  After we finish dinner and check up on all the animals, we go back outside to the tent. It’s hot and sticky, the kind of evening that makes you wish you were indoors enjoying air conditioning. But Maggie and Brenna are dead set on sleeping in the tent tonight. We sit on the grass outside the tent and watch for fireflies as we wait for it to get dark enough for the fireworks.

  Brenna sees the first one. “Over there!” She points to the trees at the edge of Dr. Mac’s property. We sit in easy silence for a while, pointing on occasion to the nearest group of flashing bugs.

  Maggie sighs. “Did we get too old to chase them?” she asks.

  “Not too old. Too hot,” Brenna says.

  “I wonder if it’s hot in the Adirondacks tonight. Do you think David is too hot to catch fireflies?”

  “Not David,” Brenna says with a laugh. “He probably has jars of trained fireflies by now. A whole firefly circus.”

  “He’d be the one who could do it,” Maggie says, running her hand along the grass. “I miss that goofball.”

  “He’ll be gone all of next week. Josh and Jules come back this week, though,” I say.

  “Good,” Brenna says. “We could use them at the clinic.”

  I grab my pillow from the tent and use it to fan myself. “What about Zoe? When does she get back?”

  “Who knows,” Maggie replies, pulling grass tufts from the ground. “Her mom is likely to change all the plans at the last minute anyway. I’ve learned not to expect much. Zoe will be here when she’s here.”

  I glance at Brenna. She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. Maggie is missing Zoe. It’s easy to recognize now.

  “Do you think it’s going to rain again tonight?” I ask. I put the pillow down. Fanning myself with it isn’t helping a bit. “Maybe a lightning storm?” I suggest. We’ll have to go in if it looks like a lightning storm. Dr. Mac wouldn’t want us in a tent. I cross my fingers and search the sky.

  “I try never to check the weather,” Maggie says. “Well, at least not during summer. Since there’s no school, it doesn’t really matter what the weather is like.” She pauses a moment, then adds, “It’s great that the next school year is so far away.”

  This is one thing that Maggie and I will never agree on. I love school. The projects, the structure, the organization, the chance to learn new things—all of it makes me happy. But I don’t want to burst Maggie’s bubble, especially since she was so angry earlier.

  “But school will start eventually,” Brenna says, picking a blade of grass and pulling it through her fingers. “And we three could be in great running shape by then. Has either of you given my idea of cross-country any thought?”

  “Are you kidding?” Maggie says. “With the day we’ve had? All I can think about are all the changes that Gran is making at the clinic. I’m not ready to think about school, too.” Maggie rips up another clump of grass and dirt with her left hand and then tries pushing it back into the ground.

  “Maybe we should go back to thinking about how nice it is that we still have weeks and weeks of summer left,” I say. It’s getting darker and the fireflies have moved out from the trees and up from the ground and are blinking all around us now.

  “Yeah, but who knows what things are going to be like. I don’t want to be standing around in the clinic watching Melissa doing all the stuff we used to do,” Maggie says, hissing out the “liss” in Melissa. She pulls up the same clump of grass.

  “Come on,” Brenna says. “You heard your grandmother. And you’ve seen how the clinic is getting busier and busier. No one is doing much standing around.” Brenna tries fanning herself with her hand. When that doesn’t work, she leans forward, unzips the tent, and pulls out the big envelope with the running information in it. She fans herself and then turns to Maggie and me and fans us, too. The breeze feels great.

  “Maggie,” I say as gently as I can, “Dr. Mac mentioned to Brenna and me that she’s been thinking about hiring a vet tech for a while. She said that she’s talked to you and Zoe about it before.”

  “Well, yeah,” Maggie says. “She’s talked about a lot of things. But it’s always been just talk. She’s talked about taking us to Florida again. She’s talked about adding more room to the clinic. She’s talked about taking a cruise to Alaska someday, about taking a night class to learn how to speak Russian. None of those things has ever happened. Why should this be the thing that does?”

  Brenna nods. This makes sense now. I can imagine Maggie thinking that a new vet tech wasn’t very likely. But still . . .

  “Adults have dreams, too,” I say. “And I think it’s nice when they talk about them with us.” Maggie looks over at me. It’s almost completely dark, but I can see the annoyance—or is it confusion—on her face.

  I continue, “My parents talk about taking us to the Grand Canyon. They talk about this a couple times a year. They don’t seem to make any actual plans for it, but it seems to make them happy just talking about it. My mother talks about learning tai chi. This hasn’t happened, either. I’m sure your grandmother has many things she’d like to do someday. I imagine hiring a vet tech might make it easier for her to actually do those things.”

  There is a far-off rumble. I can’t tell if it’s a lightning storm or the fireworks.

  Brenna asks, “How would hiring a vet tech help Dr. Mac to do the other things?” We hear a whoosh sound and then a big pop. Fireworks.

  I lean back on my elbows and look up toward the sky to watch. Brenna joins me. Maggie stays sitting cross-legged.

  “I think hiring a vet tech means that Dr. Mac could get away from the clinic a little more,” I say. The fireworks are coming faster now. They light up the sky so much that it’s easier to see our faces. I look over at each of them, and think about how lucky I am to have them. Though, to be honest, Maggie still looks a little annoyed.

  As if to prove me right, Maggie jumps in after the next lull in the fireworks. “A vet tech can’t do what a vet can do!” she says. “I don’t think so anyway.”

  “Do any of us really
know what a vet tech can do?” Brenna asks, then continues, “Oooh, that one was gorgeous.” She points to the big, breaking golden chrysanthemum directly overhead.

  “I’m not sure what they can and can’t do,” I say. “But it must be more than what we can do. I bet it would be easier for Dr. Mac to go out of town or take a night class if Dr. Gabe had an assistant to help out. They need more help than just what the Vet Volunteers can do.”

  “But we can do a lot,” Maggie says. “And all of us are learning so much. We’re able to do more and more all the time.”

  Brenna sits up and says to Maggie, “Yeah, but even if we think we know how to do some stuff, there’s plenty we’re not allowed to do or aren’t licensed to do.”

  “I suppose,” Maggie says. It’s the first she’s backed down on this. Maybe everything will be better now.

  I pull out my phone to send a good-night/checking-in text to my parents. There is a message waiting for me when I do. It’s from my father’s phone: “We hope you are enjoying your holiday. Your mother and I send our love.”

  I send back a smiley emoji, to let them know I got their message.

  We watch the fireworks through the finale. The fireworks are so loud and so frequent—even more than they were last night—that it feels almost magical. I put my arms around my friends and give them a hug. As the smoke starts to clear, we wonder how the dogs in the kennel and those around town are doing.

  “We may find out in the morning when the first patients arrive,” Brenna says. We crawl into the tent and unzip all the vents and leave the door screened. I don’t know how we’re going to sleep tonight. It is so hot. We don’t even get into our sleeping bags, just lie on top of them. Every once in a while, Brenna fans us with that big envelope.

  When we’re almost asleep, Brenna whispers in the dark, “Maggie, how far did you and Sherlock get on your walk?”

  “To David’s,” she answers.

  “Ooh, that far?” I tease. “You got all the way across the street before Sherlock decided to lie down?” None of us can help laughing, even Maggie.