“You were great,” Bertie told Smalls, taking the fire sticks from him. As he blew them out, he couldn’t help but peek over at Susan. She was dragging a full bucket of water over to the flaming hoop, her cheeks still flushed. Bertie pushed his baseball cap off his forehead. He thought about the way her arms had tightened around his neck, how her hair had brushed against his shoulder. It should have felt strange to him, alien, but instead it had just felt easy.
“Here,” he said, going over to the hoop. “I’ll help you.”
They had just poured the water over the flames when one of the Lloyds called out for Bertie. “Time for dinner, boy! Chain up the bear.” Bertie looked over his shoulder to see the Lloyds chaining up the rest of the animals. “We’re leaving ’em in here while we eat,” Lloyd added, tossing Bertie a chain. It clanged against his leg as he caught it.
“Sorry, Smalls,” Bertie said, clipping the chain around the bear’s paws as loosely as he could.
“Sorry?” Lloyd snorted. He elbowed his twin in the side. “The boy just apologized to the bear, Loyd.”
Loyd threw his head back, laughing. “That bear can’t understand you, stupid boy. And even if he could, you know what your uncle taught us. Animals don’t have feelings!”
Chapter Twenty-six
In Your Dreams
Smalls had never been so tired in his life. He collapsed on the ground in the ring, resting his head on his paws. He was too tired to move. He was too tired to play. He was even too tired to make a list. I think I’ll take a little nap, he decided. His eyes had just drifted shut when a sound from the front of the ring stirred him awake. Groggily, he opened his eyes.
Buck was crouched down in front of Tilda, nudging her with his nose. “You. Me. That private corner over there,” he was saying. “How about it, sweet thing?”
“Absolutely not!” Wombat cut in. He stepped bravely in front of Buck, his snout held high, but Buck easily kicked him away.
“Believe me, bunny buns,” Buck said to Tilda. “You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s time you dated a real animal.”
“With a real name.” Hamlet snickered.
“My friends call me Fred!” Wombat bellowed, stomping his paw against the ground.
Ignoring Wombat, Buck tickled Tilda with his black and white tail. “Come on, bunny love,” he flirted. “We’re perfect for each other.”
“Perfect for each other?” Wombat sputtered. “Your paw is bigger than her head!” He pushed his way back in front of Buck, but Buck just swatted him away again, sending him skidding across the ring.
“You . . . you brute!” Wombat yelled as he landed on his head.
Smalls leapt to his feet. Who did Buck think he was? He might be a zebra, but Smalls was a bear! And as far as he was concerned, claws trumped stripes any day of the week.
“Brute?” Hamlet laughed as Smalls stormed over to Buck. “Is that even a real word?”
“It’s a real word,” Juliet confirmed. She eyed Wombat disdainfully. “Though the verdict’s still out on whether he’s a real animal.”
“For the last time,” Wombat said, pulling himself back up. “I am a hairy-nosed—”
“May!” Juliet gasped.
“Not a hairy-nosed May,” Wombat shouted in exasperation. “A hairy-nosed . . .” But as Juliet ran to May, he suddenly fell silent. “Oh,” he said shakily.
May the monkey had collapsed on the floor.
Smalls forgot about everything—Buck, Tilda, even Wombat—as he raced to Juliet’s side. Within seconds, the rest of the animals had joined them.
May’s eyes were closed, her breathing labored. “May?” Juliet said. When May didn’t answer, Juliet prodded her with her nose. But still she didn’t stir.
“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Smalls asked.
Juliet gently licked May’s face, but May’s eyes didn’t open.
“What’s wrong with her is this place!” Juliet exploded. “She’s too old for this, too frail.” She nudged May again as Hamlet and Buck paced in circles around her. Wombat and Tilda huddled by May’s feet, with Rigby behind them. Only Lord Jest stood off to the corner, peering at May out of the corners of his eyes. “Wake up, May,” Juliet begged. “Please.”
As she licked May’s fur, Smalls went over to the animals’ water bucket, which Susan had filled up to the top. He grabbed the handle in his teeth, dragging the bucket over to May.
Juliet looked up, her yellow eyes flashing. “You really need a drink right now?” she snapped.
“No. But she might.” With a grunt, Smalls shoved the bucket onto its side. Water poured over May, darkening her fur.
“Are you crazy?” Juliet yelled. She drew back her lip, revealing a gleaming white fang.
“Jul.” Hamlet hit his sister with his tail. “Look.”
On the ground, May’s eyes were fluttering. “Juliet?” she whispered.
“May!” Juliet crouched by her side. “Are you all right?”
“Thirsty,” May croaked. Gently, Juliet nudged May’s head toward the pool of water that had gathered next to her. “Ah,” May sighed as she lapped it up. “Better.” She curled up against Juliet, who blanketed her with her thick, silky tail.
“Do you need anything else?” Juliet asked her quietly.
“I do.” May drew in a long, raspy breath. “I need . . .” She paused, and the animals all leaned in close to hear her. “Bananas!” she finished with a weak smile.
As the rest of the animals burst out laughing, Juliet looked up at Smalls. “Thanks,” she said. Then she turned briskly back to May. “Well, you better go back to sleep then,” she teased. “Because the only place you’re finding bananas is in your dreams.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Holy Horseshoe
Smalls was dreaming of honey. He was on a boat, crossing the ocean, but instead of water, the ocean was made of thick, gooey waves of honey.
He was just about to scoop up a pawful when a noise—a moan—suddenly shook him awake. He opened his eyes, a thin line of sunlight streaming in at him from the caravan window. He was in a cage instead of a boat, not a drop of honey in sight. And every inch of his body—his head, his paws, his back, even his claws—was aching.
“Ooooo.”
At the sound of the moan, Smalls pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the throbbing in his right paw. The sound was coming from May’s cage.
“May?” Smalls whispered. But she just let out another moan. The sound wiggled its way into him, making him feel itchy in his own fur. He touched his ear, wishing desperately for a four-leaf clover. But of course, there was nothing there.
Pressing his muzzle against the bars of his cage, he looked out at May. Her legs were twitching, her stomach was heaving, and there was a strange red bump on her tail. It was the wound from falling off her unicycle, he realized. Overnight it had grown puffy and inflamed. Smalls didn’t know a lot about cuts, but he did know they weren’t supposed to look like that.
“What’s she doing?” Juliet’s voice made Smalls jump. He looked over to see her standing in her cage, swishing her tail in nervous circles. “I can’t see her from over here!”
“She’s asleep,” Smalls said. “But . . . she doesn’t look good.” He watched as May took a slow, wheezing breath. “I think it’s her cut.”
Juliet shook her head. “You can go back to sleep now,” she said sharply. She kept her voice low, and in the cages around them, the other animals slept peacefully on. “I’ll stay up with her.”
Smalls ignored her. Stifling a yawn, he sat down, keeping his eyes on May. He could hear Juliet’s tail swishing back and forth, back and forth in her cage. As May let out another moan, he shook his head. “Holy horseshoe,” he said softly.
“Holy what?” Juliet asked.
“Horseshoe,” Smalls sniffed.<
br />
Juliet studied him curiously. “Are you sure you don’t mean holy mackerel? Or holy moly?”
Smalls rubbed at the yellow horseshoe on his chest. “Holy horseshoe,” he repeated firmly.
Juliet cocked her head. “Holy horseshoe,” she tried out. She looked almost amused, but before she could say anything else, the door to the caravan swung open. Lloyd and Loyd stomped in, followed by Bertie. As Bertie headed through the caravan with the animals’ trays of slop, his eyes fell on May.
He let out a gasp, stopping short. “Look at May!” he told the Lloyds.
The twins clomped over to May’s cage, peering inside. “That monkey does not look good,” Lloyd said.
The twins exchanged a befuddled look.
“Boss left us in charge of the morning rounds,” Lloyd said nervously.
“He told us not to bother him no matter what,” Loyd agreed anxiously.
Smalls watched as Bertie crouched next to May’s cage, reaching through the bars to pet her. “We need a vet,” he said, his voice tight. “Now.”
“Ha!” Loyd scoffed. “Vets are expensive, boy.”
“And that monkey’s worth nothing at this point,” Lloyd chimed in. “Nada. Zip. Zero.” He smiled a little, looking proud of his vocabulary.
“We’re just going to have to fix this on our own,” Loyd said.
Side by side, the twins began to pace through the caravan. “Maybe we can dump her in the woods,” Loyd suggested.
Smalls looked over at them sharply. Dump her?
Across the way, Juliet sucked in a breath. All around him, Smalls could hear the other animals waking—stirring and stretching in their cages—but he kept his eyes trained on the Lloyds, watching as they paced along the length of the caravan. “That’s genius,” Lloyd replied excitedly. “Then Boss would never have to pay another vet bill for her again!”
“Um, Lloyd?” Bertie ventured. “Loyd?”
“Boss was just saying how useless the monkey is these days,” Loyd went on, ignoring Bertie. “I bet he’d be thrilled if we tossed her in the woods.”
Smalls growled under his breath. Tossed her?
“Lloyd?” Bertie tried again. “Loyd?”
“We’d have to make sure no one saw us, of course,” Lloyd pointed out.
“Or heard us,” Loyd added.
“LLOYDS!”
Both Lloyds sighed impatiently. “What is it, boy?”
“What about the monkey sanctuary?” Bertie asked hurriedly. “The one we passed on the drive here? What if we brought her there?”
“Smalls?” Rigby’s bark drifted over from his cage, drawing Smalls’s attention away from the humans. “What’s going on?”
“May’s sick,” Smalls told him softly.
“Sick?” Tilda squeaked in horror. Smalls could hear her shaking out her fur, the first step in her morning grooming process.
Lloyd let out a loud laugh before the animals could say anything else. “Why would we want to take her all the way to a sanctuary, boy, when the woods are right here?”
“Because . . .” Bertie paused, and from the look on his face, Smalls could tell he was thinking hard. “Because I bet we’d get written up in the newspaper for it! I can see the headline now,” he continued hastily. “The Most Magnificent Traveling Circus Donates Monkey to Sanctuary!” He smiled persuasively up at Lloyd and Loyd. “Just think how grateful Claude would be if you got the circus written up in the newspaper.”
“Claude does love newspapers,” Lloyd said thoughtfully.
“And he loves being in them even more,” Loyd added eagerly.
The twins looked at each other. “Maybe we’ll get a promotion,” Lloyd whispered to Loyd.
“Maybe we’ll get a raise,” Loyd whispered to Lloyd.
They both nodded. “Get the monkey, boy,” Lloyd ordered, tossing Bertie a ring of keys. “We’re going to the sanctuary.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
What’s Black and White and Red All Over?
Loyd pulled the old black motorcar into a winding dirt driveway. WELCOME TO RAINTREE SANCTUARY, the sign at the end of the driveway read. THE HOME OF YOUR MONKEY’S DREAMS!
“Dreams?” Lloyd scoffed from the passenger seat. “Monkeys don’t dream.”
“That would be like saying animals understand English,” Loyd chimed in with a laugh.
In the backseat of the car, Bertie swallowed back a groan. Next to him, inside a cardboard box that had CARA’S COCOA, THE BEST COCOA IN THE WORLD! printed on the side, was May. She was still asleep, breathing heavily. The cut on her tail had grown more swollen, the edges a bright, blistering red, and every so often, a deep shiver racked through her. Bertie put his hand on her head, stroking her whiskers as the motorcar jolted to a stop with a sputter of smoke.
“This better be quick,” Loyd said as he climbed out of the car. “We don’t want to keep Boss waiting.”
Carefully, Bertie picked up the box, trying not to jostle May as he lifted it out of the car. Lloyd honked the car’s horn several times, and a minute later, a large woman waddled out of Raintree. “Hello!” she sang out. “Welcome to Raintree! The Home of Your Monkey’s Dreams! Here at Raintree, we make sure each of our monkeys gets the utmost in care! They have acres to swing through! Trees to sleep in! Shelter for when it’s cold! And of course, unlimited bananas to eat!”
Inside the cardboard box, May shifted. She opened one eye a crack. “Bananas?” she croaked.
“Great, great,” Loyd said, waving dismissively. “Here.” He grabbed the box out of Bertie’s arms, shoving it at the woman. “We have a monkey for you.” He proudly squared his shoulders. “When you talk to the newspaper, you can thank Loyd and Lloyd of the Most Magnificent Traveling Circus.”
The woman’s eyes widened as she looked down at the moaning, shivering monkey. “Oh dear,” she said.
“Bananas?” May wheezed.
“What’s her name?” the woman asked.
Loyd shrugged. “June? August? Something like that.”
“May,” Bertie jumped in, clenching his fists at his sides. “Her name’s May.”
The woman smiled brightly. “What a beautiful name. Here at Raintree, we like our monkeys to have names that exemplify their personalities—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Loyd cut in. “Now, when the newspaper calls, don’t forget to tell them it was Loyd and Lloyd who brought the monkey. That’s Loyd with one L and Lloyd with two L’s.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But make sure you say Loyd with one L first.”
The woman blinked, looking confused. “Newspaper?”
Bertie tensed. He had a feeling they better get out of there before the Lloyds realized he’d made up the newspaper article. “Claude’s waiting for us,” he said abruptly. “We don’t want to be late for practice.”
Loyd flinched, and it hit Bertie suddenly that even though the Lloyds were three times his size and had the kind of muscles that bulged right out of their shirts, they were just as scared of Claude as he was. “Well, then, stop wasting time, boy,” Loyd said. He grabbed Bertie’s arm, yanking him back into the car.
As they sped out of the driveway, their tires screeching, Bertie twisted around just in time to see the woman pull open Raintree’s gate, revealing a huge greenhouse filled with trees—bananas dangling from every one. Bertie smiled to himself as he turned around again. May wasn’t going to miss the circus one bit.
* * *
While May got settled in at the home of her dreams, Juliet was back at the circus along with the other animals, turning in nervous circles inside the ring. “She’s gone,” she said miserably. “I can’t believe May’s really gone.”
Hamlet let out a soft growl. “I’m sorry, Jul.”
“Whatcha moaning on about?” Lord Jest tossed his trunk. “She got se
nt to a sanctuary! That’s like monkey heaven! She shoulda smashed her tail up years ago.”
“Lord Jest!” Juliet scolded. “You didn’t hear her earlier. She was . . . I thought . . .” Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly looked down at the ground.
“Come on, Juliet,” Lord Jest scoffed. “Whadya think woulda happened if May hadn’t left? She woulda brought us all down tonight with her terrible performance, and all us Lifers woulda suffered! You should be grateful she’s gone.”
“How can you say that?” The question flew out of Smalls’s mouth before he could stop it.
Every muscle in Lord Jest’s massive body tensed. “’Scuse me?” he said slowly. “What didya say to me?”
Taking a deep breath, Smalls walked over to the elephant. “I said, how can you say something like that? May was your friend!”
Lord Jest looked right at Smalls, narrowing his eyes. “There’s no such thing as friends in the circus, buddy bear. Here, ya just do what ya gotta to survive.”
Smalls shook his head. “That isn’t right,” he said softly.
“I’ve been here a whole lot longer than you,” Lord Jest replied with a shrug of his trunk. “I’ve seen animals come, I’ve seen animals die. Ya learn not to get attached. When ya care is when ya get in trouble.”
“Except when you care about me,” Buck said, sidling up to Tilda. He gave her a pouty face. “Hi, my pretty puff. How about you console this grieving zebra when we get to practice?”
“I—” Tilda began, but Wombat cut her off.
“She will do nothing of the sort!” he snapped. But once again, Buck just ignored him.
“I’ve got a joke for you, honey bunny,” he said, ruffling his mane. “What’s black and white and red all over?”
“A sunburned penguin?” Tilda squeaked.
“No.” Buck winked at her as he lowered his voice. “This zebra when you make him blush.”
The Daring Escape of the Misfit Menagerie Page 10