Hide and Seek (9 page)

“Well, I guess they found it,” Daddy said as a toothpaste tube played the keys of a piano that turned into some very white teeth. “I wonder if the e-mail came
from Mr. Gorman’s phone. Razi did send the photo to his whole list.”

“They may have found it, but that doesn’t mean they caught it.” Big Bob settled himself at Grandma’s side on the bed. “That’s the tricky part. Speaking of tricky parts … Alice, what do I hear about my mother’s—”

“Shhh,” Grandma said. “She’s back.”

All eyes returned to the television.

“Mindy Patel here, your
Live at Five
Action Team correspondent. Earlier today, our news bureau’s information center was alerted to the plight of a young deer that went for a nibble and got more than he bargained for.”

The photo that Razi, Keisha, Daddy and the Z-Team had seen on Mr. Gorman’s camera phone flashed up on the screen.

“So we came down to the park to sniff out the story. Here’s what we know. This pumpkin is stuck fast and the little deer can’t drink or eat. How could this happen? Let’s go to the neighbors who alerted us.”

Two people, a lady and Mr. Gorman, were escorted in front of the camera. Mindy Patel took a step toward them and continued speaking.

“Ms. Dunwoody was the first to spot the deer. In your own words, will you tell us what happened?”

“I was getting ready for work when I saw this poor, poor deer with its head stuck in the little pumpkin I fill with sunflower seeds for the birds.”

“And then …”

“It’s an ‘and then’ story!” Razi shouted. Razi loved “and then” stories.

“Well, I looked up ‘wildlife’ in the phone book and I found the number for Carters’ Urban Rescue. And I spoke to a girl who said she’d tell her father. That was it. I had to rush to get the bus.”

“A little girl working for a wildlife rescue operation?” Mindy Patel looked at the camera with a quizzical face. “That sounds dangerous to—”

“I met those young people,” Mr. Gorman interrupted Mindy Patel. “They were with their father. It was all perfectly safe. The little one sent you that photograph. Though how he did it—”

By the look on Mindy Patel’s face, Keisha could see she did not like to be interrupted. “So you’re saying
you’re
the one who reported this tragedy, Mr. Gorman.”

“Don’t go blaming me. It was the little guy. I just took the photo because, well, at the time it seemed kinda funny and I thought I’d send it to my grandbaby who’s in the hospital right now. Hey there, Tracyanne junior.”

Mr. Gorman waved to the camera until Mindy Patel caught him by the arm.

“A little guy sent the photo. Is this whole operation run by children?”

During Mindy Patel’s second thoughtful look at the camera, Grandma broke out with “Jeez Louis Vuitton. Stick to the story.”

“No, no,” Mr. Gorman was saying. “They were with their father when they—”

“What we
do
know,” Mindy Patel broke in, “is that they did
not
find the deer because only moments ago, our
Live at Five
Action Team took this footage.”

The television screen showed a blurry scene of leaves and trees, accompanied by the sound of snapping twigs. The lens zoomed in, and viewers got a fleeting glimpse of the floating pumpkin that was indeed stuck tight over the nose and mouth of a young deer.

After a few shaky seconds of the deer in distress, a serious Mindy Patel’s face reappeared. “And I must say that I, for one, would rather see children running a lemonade stand than chasing after wild animals.”

“They weren’t chasing anything …,” Mr. Gorman said. “They were tracking with their—”

Mindy Patel walked a few steps away and was
followed by the camera. “Earlier today, we were able to get our zoo director to comment on the situation. Mr. Vescolani, can this deer be saved?”

The view switched to Mr. Vescolani standing outside the polar bear pen at the zoo, his tie flapping in the breeze. “Well, obviously, catching deer with pumpkins stuck on their heads is a little outside our area of expertise. We’re a zoo. Frankly, if I were having this problem, I’d call my friends at Carters’ Urban Rescue.”

“Well, at least
someone
is talking some kind of sense,” Grandma said. Grandma always talked to the TV.

“Could this capture involve guns? Don’t you knock out wild animals with dart guns?”

“Dart guns are a dangerous business. About half the wild animals that size will die of complications when anesthetized. You have to get the amount just right. If it’s not enough, animals get overexcited and may injure themselves. If it’s too much—”

“Could this deer be dangerous to any of our citizens?” Mindy Patel asked Mr. Vescolani. “If he’s found and he gets overexcited?”

“He’s just a young buck with a pumpkin stuck tight because the handle is caught on his horn buds. I don’t
see him presenting much danger to the public.”

This seemed to disappoint Mindy Patel. Maybe danger was better than safety when you were reporting the news.

The screen showed Mindy Patel again as she said, “Thank you, Mr. Vescolani. Our viewers can follow the story moment by moment on the blog at
Live at Five’
s Action Team news center Web site. Log on and record your comments on this most unusual event. From Huff Park, this is Mindy Patel, your
Live at Five
Action Team correspondent.”

As the camera pulled back from the scene at the park and the dramatic music played, Keisha could hear the office phone ringing downstairs. She wasn’t surprised. She even had an idea about who would be on the other end of the line.

Handing off a sleepy Racket to Razi, she ran downstairs to answer the phone.

“Carters’ Urban Rescue.”

“It’s time to put our damage-control plan into place,” Aaliyah said.

Daddy called Aaliyah the director of marketing for Carters’ Urban Rescue. When Aaliyah grew up, she wanted to be an agent who represented singers and athletes. Both of her parents were in marketing,
so she talked a lot about visibility and public perceptions and targeted media efforts. Aaliyah never missed the news.

“Just remember that no publicity is bad publicity,” she continued. “It’s all in how you spin it.”

Keisha felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Jorge. “Can you tell me where the vegetable oil is?” he asked.

“In the kitchen, in the cupboard above the sink,” Keisha told him, holding her hand over the receiver so she didn’t interrupt Aaliyah.

A minute later, Jorge rushed past her and headed upstairs with the Carters’ jug of canola oil. He almost ran into Big Bob coming down the stairs. Aaliyah was still talking strategy.

Big Bob told Keisha, “As soon as Jorge delivers that vegetable oil, I’ve got to get him home. Your mom asked that you come back up when you’re done. She needs help with the patient.”

“Hellooooo,”
Aaliyah said. She must have heard Big Bob. “Back to the strategy meeting. Maybe you should practice answering the phone with a deeper voice or something.”

All Keisha could manage was a wave to let Big Bob know she’d heard.

“And you need a script by the phone,” Aaliyah continued.

“How can you have a script when every call is different?” Keisha wanted to know.

“Ouch!” Grandma shouted so loud, Keisha heard it all the way down the stairs. “Just cut it off! That would be less painful.”

The next thing Keisha heard sounded like a dog in distress.
Yowp!

There were some words from Daddy she couldn’t make out and then Razi crying out: “I didn’t step on his tail. He put it under my foot!”

Aaliyah kept talking about damage control. If Carters’ Urban Rescue had a Web presence, their blog could
at least
respond to the news center’s blog.

Keisha watched as Racket dashed down the stairs and into the living room. Razi came after. More skittering puppy. More Razi tears.

“Got it!” Daddy yelled.

“Count my toes,” Grandma insisted. “And get that ring away from me. I don’t ever want to see it again!”

“I can’t find him!” Razi shouted to everyone upstairs.

There was something about this not-Tallahassee day that was making Keisha feel more sassy than classy.

“Aaliyah, maybe
you
can go on the news center blog and make a post. I can’t worry about that now. Grandma’s in pain, Razi’s crying, the puppy’s lost again and we have forty-seven math problems due by tomorrow! Right now, I have to do damage control at 180 Horton Street!”

The Carters’ definition of a bad day went something like this:

• An animal in their care died.

• Someone dropped by unexpectedly and no food had been prepared.

• Someone other than Razi or Paulo cried.

• Grandma couldn’t draw any positive energy.

   The night they got the ring off Grandma’s toe, she was in too much pain to draw any positive energy.
Plus
it was like she was mad at Big Bob because
she
put his mother’s ring on her toe. Now she wouldn’t even wear it on her pinky finger. The bunny was just lost, not dead—yet. There was enough food for drop-ins, and no one other than Razi or Paulo cried, but the family business had not gotten such a good report from Mindy Patel.

It certainly wasn’t the worst day in Carter family history, but it wasn’t tops, either.

When something bad happened during the day, the Carters tried to feel better about it before going to bed
Sometimes it worked if they played a little cooperative Scrabble. Everyone showed their tiles and thought of words that helped the other players make big scores. The competition part was that the whole family worked together to beat their highest score.

To increase their chance of happy feelings even more, Mama had found an extra Scrabble game at the Goodwill. She gave that set of tiles to Razi so he could stack them under the kitchen table while she and Grandma and Daddy and Keisha played together.

It was understood that until at least three rounds had been played, no one would mention Racket, who had been found wedged into Grandma’s recliner; or the deer in distress; or the “wretched ring,” as Grandma called it.

There was the quiet clicking of tiles both above and under the table for several minutes. Soon, half the board was filled with interesting words, like “amble” and “mauve.”

“Look, Keisha,” Daddy said. “If I
put ‘needle’ on this double word score, it will set you up to put ‘zen’ on the triple word score.”

“ ‘Zen’ isn’t allowed,” Mama said. “It’s a proper noun.”

“I was using it as a regular old noun. As in, we need a little more zen around here,” Daddy said.

Grandma used that word a lot. Keisha thought it meant “peaceful.” Keisha was kneading Racket’s tired body with her feet. Touching puppy fur with your toes was an excellent way to feel zen.

Mama shook her head no.

Keisha said, “Okay, what about ‘hex’? That would be even better.”

She put the letters H-E-X on the triple word score and counted up the points.

“Maybe if we put a hex on the deer, we could make him stand still long enough to get the pumpkin off his head,” she said.

“Bert Vescolani called our cell while you were on the phone with Aaliyah,” Daddy told Keisha. “We agreed to go together tomorrow to see if we can locate the little guy. Then we’ll decide if it’s time to take the risk and tranquilize him.”

It was Mama’s turn. “Alice, if I put ‘star’ here, can you make a word that could hit this triple word score?”

“Speaking of letters,” Grandma said, “what did your letter say? The one you got from Ms. Tellerico?”

Mama glanced under the table. The rest of the family did, too. Razi was talking to himself and making a circle of letter tiles.

“We need to have a conference about one of our cubs.” Mama talked about Razi like an animal baby when she didn’t want him to catch on to what she was saying.

“And what did one of our cubs do now?”

“I don’t think it’s any one thing. It’s a pattern.”

“Have you ever known our cub to sit still all day?” Daddy asked. “You can make ‘starry,’ Mom.”

“That’s not good enough for a triple word score. We need to use the F and the Z.”

“Hmmm. What about ‘fuzz’? ‘Fizz’?

“There’s only one Z. How about ‘faze’? I’ll wait to see what I pick up next turn.”

“I just wish it held his interest more—the cub’s, I mean,” Daddy said. “If only they got more exercise and did projects with their um … paws, like the kids do with Big Bob. Our cub needs a lot of that.”

“Maybe Big Bob should start a school for cubs,” Mama said.

Everyone was quiet, imagining the possibilities
of spending all day with Big Bob and also thinking about F and Z words that didn’t need another Z in them.

The next morning, Keisha came down to the table and found Razi sitting in his pajamas and tearing his French toast into strips. Grandma was at the range flipping bread. Even though she hobbled a little bringing Keisha her plate, it was good to see Grandma outside her bedroom.

“I’m going to be Find-It Man today and find the missing bunny,” Razi declared.

“No you’re not,” Keisha said. “You’re going to school.” Mama did not allow her children to stay home from school unless they were throwing up or they had a fever.