chapter four
“My hero!” Mom called when she saw Dad step out of the car with a bag of take-out. She was standing on the porch, a twin in each arm.
I decided not to mention I’d already had Indian food for lunch. I really liked Mr. Singh’s butter chicken. But twice in one day was pushing it.
I followed Dad inside. I also decided not to say anything about Mom still being in her pink pj’s. Or about the rings under her eyes. Or about the fact that we’d been living in the new house since April and we still didn’t have any living room furniture.
Dad put the bag down on the kitchen table, headed for the sink and scrubbed his hands. I did the same, scrubbing my fingers till the tips were wrinkled. If we didn’t, Mom would start sneezing. She’s allergic to just about every animal on Earth—dogs, cats, birds, even horses. It’s kind of ironic that my dad fell for a woman with animal allergies. Mom has to take two antihistamine tablets every time she goes near the store.
“Hey, Ems,” I said, reaching for Emma and lifting her into the air. At first she cooed, but then she started wailing. That kind of really loud wailing that sets Jake off too. Which it did—about three seconds later.
It could almost have been funny.
“I’m exhausted!” Mom said. Then she wrinkled her nose. “And I think Jake just filled his diaper.”
“I’m taking them both,” my dad insisted, grabbing Emma from me, and Jake from Mom. “They’ll just have to cry if they don’t like it. Take a nap, Adrienne. Tim, you get dinner on the table.”
“Do I have to?”
Dad gave me a look that said I did. I wanted to phone Philippe to see if he could come over next weekend. If he slept over Friday, he could help me open the store on Saturday morning. Only I figured now wasn’t a good time to ask Mom and Dad whether that sounded like a good idea. And based on how things were going in our house lately, it probably wasn’t.
Even heating up dinner felt like way too much work. Especially since I’d worked non-stop all day. Though everyone was always saying how cute the twins were, my personal life had gone down the crapper since they’d come along. Dad didn’t have time to hang out with me, Mom was beginning to look like a bag lady and I’d practically forgotten what my best friend looked like.
Mom never did get that nap. She hovered in the kitchen, glancing at her to-do list on the fridge, while I took the plates from the cupboard. In the end, she was the one to change Jakey’s diaper.
When the phone rang, Mom picked it up. “Honey, it’s for you!” she called from the kitchen.
“Can you tell whoever it is I’ll phone back after dinner?”
“My husband will phone you back,” she said into the telephone. “Who’s calling, please?”
She reached for a pencil. “Let me take your number, Mr. Morgan.”
Not him again, I thought, remembering the way he’d drummed his fingers on Mr. Singh’s counter.
“Did you say Mr. Morgan?” my dad shouted from the twins’ room. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“My husband says...” Mom didn’t get to finish her sentence. Dad had rushed down the hallway and picked up the telephone in the den. “You can hang up now, Adrienne, ”he said. His voice sounded sharper than usual.
When we finally sat down, Dad fed the twins—they’d just started eating cereal— between gulps of Mr. Singh’s butter chicken. The cream of wheat dribbled down the twins’ chins. Most of it landed on the floor.
I went to the sink for a rag. If I didn’t clean up the cream of wheat, I was pretty sure it would still be on the floor in the morning.
“So, Mom...,” I said when I sat back down. I wanted to tell her how Elmo had nearly figured out how to open the third padlock, but she’d fallen asleep. She was still sitting up, but her chin had dropped to her chest and she was snoring lightly.
“Dad,” I whispered, “have a look at Mom.”
On a better day, he would have laughed.
“How are those adorable twins?” Philippe’s mom asked when I phoned. Philippe was out. He’d walked over to the dollar cinema with Thomas. “You remember Thomas, don’t you? He lives around the corner,” she explained.
I lay in bed, wishing I lived someplace else. Like my old house. I tried to picture my old room, the way the ceiling sloped, and the nature posters on the walls. Philippe and Thomas had walked over to the dollar cinema. You couldn’t walk anywhere from where we lived now.
I heard the buzz of the electric toothbrush, followed by the soft drone of my parents’ voices.
“I have to do something, Adrienne,” Dad said.
“What do you mean?” Mom still sounded tired, but now, I could hear something else in her voice too: worry.
I shifted in my bed, straightening up so I could hear better.
“I don’t know how I’m going to make the rent. Morgan is already putting on the pressure. He knows the store hasn’t been busy.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. What if Dad had to close the store? What would happen to us then?
“It’s summer,” Mom said. “Things are always slow in summer. People are away on holiday. Business will pick up in the fall. It always does.”
“I’ve come up with a plan,” Dad said.
Phew, I thought, relaxing a little. Dad was a smart guy. I should have known he’d come up with a plan. Maybe he wanted to hang a bigger sign outside the store or advertise on the radio.
But it wasn’t that at all.
“I’ve agreed to start renting out the big birds,” Dad said. For a second, I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. What was Dad thinking? “For parties and conventions. It’s a good way to bring in extra cash—” Here, he paused for a moment.
“They want Elmo first.”
chapter five
“Tim! I need a hand with the lovebirds!” Amy hollered. Her hands were on her hips, so I knew she meant business.
I’d just gotten Winifred, Hubert and Elmo settled on the brass swings under the potted palm tree in the middle of the store, where they spent most of their days. Winifred was preening herself, her beak working so fast she reminded me of a bumblebee. Hubert was watching her, and Elmo was watching me.
I adjusted the swings, but truth was, I just wanted to hang out a little longer with Elmo. He hadn’t even left the store and already I missed him.
The thought that my dad would be renting Elmo out like he was a DVD was driving me nuts. I’d hardly slept. There was no telling what could happen to Elmo. He might stop eating or catch a cold. And when I imagined the aviary without him, my throat tightened up.
I saw my own reflection when I looked into Elmo’s dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Was I imagining it, or did Elmo look sad? Like he knew?
“Hey, pal, whatever happens, wherever Dad sends you, I’ll be there. I promise.”
“Tim!” Amy shouted again.
“What’s all the racket about?” Trout asked as he walked by with a small plastic bag filled with water and two goldfish.
“I’m coming,” I muttered, waving in Amy’s direction.
Before I went, I scratched the feathers on the top of Elmo’s head. “I promise,” I whispered.
Each of the four fledglings was no bigger than a peach and just as fuzzy. They looked like they’d been splashed with green and orange and pink paint. Their pearly beaks were the size of fingernails.
“Hello, babies,” Amy cooed. It was bad enough I had to listen to my mom fussing over the twins all the time. Now Amy was losing it too. You’d think she’d given birth to those fuzz balls.
I had to admit the lovebirds were cute. Amy had tucked a heating pad under their cage. Now, because we were cleaning the cage, the little guys were strutting across the counter. We didn’t have to worry about them flying off since they still hadn’t figured out what their wings were for.
“How are the fledglings this morning?”
It was my dad, but I didn’t look up. Instead I scrubbed harder. So hard my wrists st
arted hurting.
“They’re doing well, Mr. Barnes. They had their food through the dropper this morning,” Amy told him.
“Excellent.”
When I felt Dad’s eyes land on me, I didn’t look up. I was giving him the silent treatment. But the silent treatment only works when the other person notices.
“I’ll be in my office making phone calls,” Dad said as he headed out the aviary door. He sounded happier than he’d sounded in a long time. Sure, I thought, he thinks Elmo’s going to solve his money problems. If only he cared as much about Elmo. Or me.
“Something bothering you?” Amy asked.
“Nah, I’m fine. Hey, what’s the red smudge on that one’s head?” I asked, pointing at the smallest fledgling.
“Lipstick. A family was in yesterday. They totally fell in love with her. When I told them they couldn’t take her home for two weeks, they insisted on leaving a down payment. So I dabbed her head with lipstick; that way, we’ll be able to tell her apart from her brothers.”
“Hey, Amy,” I said, when we were scooping up the fledglings to put them back in the cage. “Ever hear of people renting out birds? For parties and stuff?” I was holding one of the fledglings in my hands, and I could feel the thump-thump of his heart.
“Nah,” Amy said. “Never heard of it. Why do you want to know?”
“No reason.”
The silent treatment hadn’t worked. Keeping my feelings in wasn’t working, either. So though I didn’t have to pee, I headed for the bathroom at the back of the store. On the way, I stopped at my dad’s office.
The door was half-open, but he wasn’t there.
“I think he went to the bathroom,” Trout called out. He was feeding the fish.
When I walked into the bathroom, my dad was checking out his shave in the mirror.
I looked for feet inside the stalls. I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I was about to say.
“How could you?” I asked, looking up at my dad. When I heard my voice, I was surprised by how angry I sounded. I don’t think I’d ever really gotten angry with my dad before.
“How could I what?” I could tell Dad had no idea what I was talking about. That made me angrier.
“How could you rent out—” I had trouble finishing the sentence. “How could you rent out Elmo?” It sounded like I’d spit out the words.
“How do you know about that?”
“I heard you tell Mom.”
“Since when did you start listening in on private conversations?” Dad’s eyes flashed and his whole face was red. I couldn’t believe he was getting angry at me! He was twisting things. I wasn’t the one who’d done something wrong, he was.
I tried to stay calm. “I wasn’t listening in. I just heard you talking is all.”
I was sure Dad would apologize for losing his temper and for his plan to rent out Elmo. I was sure he’d say it was all a big mistake and he’d changed his mind.
But he didn’t.
Instead he walked right past me and pressed his palm against the bathroom door so hard it made a smacking sound. “What makes you think I need some kid telling me how to run my business?”
“I’m not telling you how to run your business. I...I just want to look after Elmo.”
The veins on Dad’s hand looked purple and swollen. “Now you’re telling me I don’t know how to look after my animals? Is that what you’re saying?”
“N-no,” I stammered. “It’s just that I...I’m worried.”
Dad dropped his eyes to the ground. “You don’t know the first thing about worries,” he muttered as he left the bathroom.
I knew there wasn’t any point going after him. But I wasn’t ready to go back into the store, either. My heart was racing and I needed to catch my breath. Dad and I had never fought before.
So I just stood there, staring at my reflection. I looked so much like him. Usually I thought that was a good thing. But not today. Today I didn’t want to be anything like my dad.
I nearly jumped when the bathroom door opened. I spotted the black cloak first. “Rodney!” I shouted, and for a second I sounded as angry as my dad had a few minutes before. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you always following me around like some stray pup?”
chapter six
Not exactly pet people, I thought as I made my way through the crowd, balancing a tray of samosas over my head with one hand.
It was Saturday night and the store had been converted into a weird cross between a jungle and a ballroom. I’d never seen anything so tacky. I had helped Dad and Trout push the shelves of pet supplies over to one wall to make room for a giant dance floor. There was a cardboard cutout of a life-sized tiger at one end. The huge black strobe lights on either side of the tiger made it hard to see straight.
The people were even worse than the decorations. Take this one lady who let out a shriek when Cottontail jumped out from under the log where she’d been hiding.
“Don’t worry. He’s harmless,” I said, offering the woman a samosa.
The woman took a handkerchief from her purse. She sighed as she dabbed her forehead.
The air smelled like the ground floor at some department store where those perfume ladies attack you with spray bottles. What I’d give right now, I thought, for a whiff of hay and ammonia.
Instead of renting out the big birds, my dad had come up with another plan to make money: He’d rented out the whole store. Maybe this was his idea of a compromise. We hadn’t talked about our argument. In fact, since that day in the bathroom, the two of us hadn’t really talked about anything, except basics like what had to be done at the store and what kind of take-out we were bringing home for dinner.
All the party guests were connected to Realco. In exchange for letting the company use the store for this party, Mr. Morgan had agreed to let my dad pay only half of next month’s rent.
Dad had gone along with Mr. Morgan’s plan like an old dog being dragged out for a walk. “What else can I do?” I heard him tell Mom during one of the late night conversations that I wasn’t supposed to be listening to. “Soon I’m going to owe Realco so much money that guy can get me to do just about anything.”
Why couldn’t Dad stand up to Mr. Morgan? I’d put my pillow over my head so I wouldn’t have to hear anymore. Why couldn’t Dad put the animals first the way he used to?
So there I was, dressed in a penguin suit—a black tuxedo Dad had insisted on renting for me. I didn’t even have a free hand to scratch my neck, which was itching something awful because of the starched collar.
I felt like it wasn’t just Four Feet and Feathers that had been rented out for the night. I felt like I’d been rented too. Like I didn’t belong to myself anymore.
Mr. Singh, who’d been hired to cater the party, was racing back and forth between the food court and the store. “These fancy people can’t get enough of my samosas,” he said, handing me another tray of the crispy appetizers. “The ones on the left have meat, the rest are vegetarian.”
After the first round of appetizers was served, Mr. Singh gestured that I should follow him to the food court. His forehead was dotted with sweat. “Tim,” he said, sounding more formal than usual, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I knew right away he meant Sapna. He’d told me she’d arrived earlier in the week, but that she’d spent her first two days in Montreal, getting over her jet lag.
I expected to see her standing behind the counter, but she wasn’t there. At least not at first.
When she did pop up from behind the counter, cradling a copper pot in her arms, my first thought was that she didn’t look anything like Mr. Singh. She had long dark hair that she wore in a braid down her back and her eyes were like stars.
“You must be Tim,” she said. “I’m delighted to meet you. Great-uncle tells me we have much in common. There are twins in my family too. Mine are sisters. They have the same dark hair I do. Only not so long, of course.”
When she talked, she moved her ha
nds, and the gold bangles on her wrist jangled.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. Her fingers felt small and warm.
I didn’t have to worry about what to say next because Sapna seemed to be one of those people who never ran out of conversation. It was hard to feel shy around her. “It was a very long flight from New Delhi,” she said. “Fifteen hours if you include the stopover in Frankfurt. It’s a good thing I arrived when I did, because I don’t know how Great-uncle would have managed without me tonight.”
Just then I heard the sound of someone snapping his fingers. It was Mr. Morgan. He’d tracked me down at the food court. “I need two glasses of white wine for some friends of mine. On the double.”
I wanted to tell him not to order me around, but of course, I couldn’t. He ran Realco. And he wanted a kid in a penguin suit to serve wine to his snooty friends. “Look,” I told Sapna, “I’ve gotta go, but let’s talk later.” Then I headed back to the store and toward the bar.
On the way, I spotted Elmo. He and Winifred and Hubert were perched on their swings under the palm tree. There were people milling around, gushing about the colors of the birds’ feathers and coaxing them to talk.
“Hello, hello, hello,” a bald-headed man kept repeating. He sounded like he was having trouble with his cell phone.
When I caught his eye, Elmo stopped preening himself and lifted one wing. I nodded and then, for a second, he shut his eyes the way he does when I pet him.
“Need some help?” a familiar voice asked. What was Rodney doing here? “My mom, uh, needed to get milk. When we saw Four Feet and Feathers was open late...” He was talking more quickly than usual. Was I making him nervous? Then I remembered how I’d given him a hard time the other day. He hadn’t deserved it.
“Slow down, Phantom, will ya?”
Rodney cracked a little smile. “Hey, Tim,” he said, “what’s going on here, anyway?”
“They’re having a party.”
“Why would anyone want to have a party in a pet store?”
“Just what I was thinking.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?”
Finding Elmo Page 2