Zoe in Wonderland (4 page)

Introducing the Snox

T
hankfully, when we got back to my house, Jade and Torrey were gone. I really didn't want Quincy to hear any of her date jokes.

With Quincy sitting beside me, I looked up
baobab tree
on the computer. Unexpectedly, there were a bunch of sites. I popped on one that called it “the tree of life” and a photo came up of about thirty baobab trees growing in a grassy Madagascar plain. The clear blue sky behind the trees made them look strangely beautiful. “Wow!”

“Yeah, wow!” he echoed.

I studied the tall, fat trunks and leafy branches closely.

Quincy said exactly what I was thinking: “Kinda different but very awesome.”

We left that site and went to another. Quickly, I began to read. “Says they can live for thousands of years and that there are nine species. And some ancient Arabian legend claims the reason it looks the way it does is because the devil plucked up the baobab, thrust its branches into the earth, and left its roots in the air.”

Quincy joined in, “And it's the national tree of Madagascar.”

“Has a lot of names . . . bottle tree, upside-down tree, monkey bread tree, and tree of life,” I added.

“And it's one of the top seven endangered trees in the world,” he read.

Abruptly, I stopped reading. “Endangered?” I repeated. When it came to plants and trees, being endangered made my daddy take notice. For a moment, I wondered if Daddy had ever even heard of baobab trees. There was nothing in his computer files.

Number One Way to Get More Attention in the Reindeer House

1. Save a tree from possible extinction!
   

Quincy turned away from the computer screen toward me. We locked eyes. “You're way too quiet, Zoe. What're you thinking?”

Because the wheels in my mind were turning fast, as fast as the wheels of a speeding bicycle, I ignored him.

“Tell me what you're thinking!” he demanded.

I inspected the picture of the tree of life again, beamed, and replied, “How to save the baobab trees from extinction, of course.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

And that was when the front door opened and Harper, also known as
the snox
, strode in.

Harper is small for a nine-year-old, with dark brown hair and a pointy nose. He likes to wear hats and has quite a collection. Today he had on a gray derby.

Three Things You Need to Know About Harper Reindeer

1. When he was younger, we mostly got along, and I used to let him come in my room whenever he wanted to and I even read to him, but after everyone discovered that he was extremely smart and he got transferred to the school for smart kids, he started treating me like I was dumb or something. I know I'm nowhere near as smart as he is, but I'm not dumb.
   
2. Last year I told him about an idea I had for a science project, and the next thing I knew, he claimed it was his idea and that idea got him to the finals at the science fair.
   
3. Every now and then I used to find him snooping in my desk, rummaging around, looking for I don't know what, so I banished him from my room and we've hardly ever had any real conversations since.
   

“Hey, Quincy,” Harper said.

As usual, he'd acknowledged Quincy but ignored me.

“Hey, Harper,” he replied.

“What're you guys doing?” Harper asked, craning his neck like a nosy giraffe, trying hard to get a look at the computer screen.

Because I feared he'd find some way to steal my idea again, before his eyes could zero in, I quickly minimized the site. “Nothing important,” I replied.

My brother gave me a look that said,
Don't even think about trying to fool me, Zoe.
For several seconds, Harper glared at me and I glared back. Neither of us blinked.

Harper glanced at the computer once more, then slithered down the hallway to his room.

“Why'd you lie?” Quincy asked me.

“Because he's a snox.”

He wrinkled his forehead like he was searching for a memory. “Oh yeah, I remember when you called him that after he stole your science idea.”

“Exactly. He's the sneakiest person I know, but he's also extremely smart . . . smart like a fox.
Sneaky
plus
fox
equals
snox
. He'd find some way to make this baobab tree idea his, and it isn't. It's mine. Understand?”

Quincy nodded in agreement. “Understand.”

I might even get some attention, I was thinking when—

Zoe was standing at the podium. The auditorium was packed and reporters pointed video cameras at the guest of honor: environmentalist Zoe G. Reindeer. At the end of Zoe's inspiring speech, people clapped and began popping up around the room like popcorn until finally everyone was standing. Single-handedly, Zoe had saved the baobabs from certain extinction. The gold medal was placed around her neck. In the audience, her father cheered and her mother cried.

Quincy tapped my shoulder. “Zoe?”

“What?”

“You sorta zoned out. Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked.

Imaginary Zoe
was difficult to explain, and I'd never talked about her to anyone, not even Quincy. She was my secret. “Stuff,” I replied.

“You've been doing that a lot lately . . . like you stop listening.”

Quincy was right.
Imaginary Zoe
had been showing up more and more, making me miss things like homework assignments and teachers' questions and Reindeer-parent orders.

“It's just my imagination,” I tried to explain.

“Oh,” he said, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn't understand.

I tried again. “I imagine cool stuff.”

“Like fantasizing?” He'd named it just right.

“Exactly,” I told him.

“Awesome.”

Daddy Reindeer

T
he snox was still in his room, but the strange thing about the snox is I never really know when he might appear from out of nowhere, snooping, peeking around corners, being a total pest. For that reason, I quickly went back to the baobab sites, printed several pages of pictures and articles about them, sneaked to my room, and stashed the pages under my mattress. That way, I'd have something to read privately later on.

Quincy and I were nestled side by side, searching for more and more facts about baobabs, when Mom stepped through the kitchen door. “Hi, Zoe . . . Hi, Quincy,” she called out.

“Hey,” we replied, neither of us glancing up, our eyes
remaining glued on the PC screen, scanning line after line, fact-finding. The baobab tree was turning into the most interesting thing that, until today, we'd known nothing about.

Mom, like a regular parent-spy, curiously peeped at the screen. Seeing a picture of a tree, she sighed and headed back to the kitchen. “You staying for dinner, Quincy? I'm making turkey burgers.”

“Sure . . . I mean, what day is this?” he asked me.

“Saturday,” I reminded him.

He glanced at the clock, grabbed his backpack, declared, “Oh no, I gotta go!” and dashed to the door. “It's my auntie's birthday. They're having a party at a fancy restaurant. Bye, Miz Reindeer!” he hollered. “Later, Zoe!” The door slammed shut and he was gone.

And minutes later, when Harper reappeared, I'd not only shut off the computer but cleared my browsing history.

Again, I dashed to my room, dug out the pages I'd printed, and pored over the articles. That was when I learned why it's called the tree of life. It gives not only water but also food, plus some people actually live inside of them. I inspected a picture of the pub someone had built inside a six-thousand-year-old baobab.

Reading on, I learned that the trunk can hold huge amounts of water, and that's why the tree can survive
when there's a drought, and its fruit, named monkey bread, has healthy vitamins. I thought back to the man who'd come into the nursery this morning and how he'd called it the monkey bread tree. And I was picturing him standing so tall in his two-toned shoes when Mom yelled out, “Dinner!”

Quickly, I stashed the papers under my mattress. If I was going to succeed, this had to remain a secret.

Jade, Harper, and Mom were seated at the table, but only the queen bee was already filling her food hole.

“You're supposed to wait for everyone before you start eating—that's the rule.” I glanced at Mom. Please back me up, I thought.

“It is the rule, Jade,” Mom told her.

Jade rudely clicked her tongue, turned to me as I sat down, and replied, “Okay, little miz princess of manners.”

“BQ, Jade,” I replied.

“BQ? What's that supposed to mean?” Jade asked.

“Means ‘be quiet,'” I answered.

“That's enough,” Mom fussed.

Jade clicked her tongue again. I'd finished one turkey burger and was slathering mustard and ketchup on another when Daddy opened the kitchen door.

“Howdeedoo, family,” he said. That's his way, saying
howdeedoo
.

“Hi, Daddy,” we said simultaneously.

Mom lifted her head and they gave each other a quick smooch.

“Did you get your
endangered
plants?” I asked, emphasizing the word
endangered
.

Daddy smiled. “Yes,” he answered, then washed his hands, sat down at the table, grabbed a handful of fries, and stuffed them in his mouth.

Daddy Reindeer is not as tall as the man from Madagascar, but he's pretty tall, and like me, he wears glasses. When he smiles, his whole face—a face almost as round as a full moon—joins in, especially his eyes. He doesn't like to wear belts, so unless it's some kind of extremely fancy party, he wears suspenders.

Later, I hoped to catch him alone to find out what he knew about baobab trees. I couldn't wait and it was hard to keep from blabbing it right then and there. I smiled inside and out. In fact, for the first time in a while, I had good feelings colliding around inside me, small secret sparks of happiness. It had been eons since I'd had something that felt like it belonged only to me.

After I helped with the dishes, I found a spot on the floor in front of the TV. Every now and then, Mom or
Daddy would act like they were going to bed, but they stayed snuggled together on the sofa until after eleven o'clock. They were in their we're-not-budging-for-a-while comfortable pose, which led me to the sad conclusion that I probably wasn't going to get a chance to talk to Daddy tonight after all.

That being the case, I said, “G'night.”

I showered and was about to climb into bed when I decided to give it one more try. Finally, I found him alone at his desk, sorting through the mail.

“Daddy?”

“Howdeedoo, Zoe.”

I leaned against the desk. “A man came into the nursery while you were gone, and he asked—”

“Asked about buying this property again?”

I was about to say no, but Daddy started ranting loudly. “If any more land developers come in here asking one more time to buy this property so they can build town houses or apartments or condominiums, you tell them I said I'm not selling! You hear me, Zoe? Tell them I'm not selling now. In fact . . . tell them I'm not selling . . . ever!”

“But . . .”

“Is that all, Zoe? Because I've got all these bills to take care of.” He frowned and waved one at me. Lately he seemed worried about money, and more and
more, I'd heard him and Mom arguing about the bills. “G'night, Zoe.”

He'll be in a better mood tomorrow, I figured. Then I'll talk to him about baobab trees and tell him what I've found out. I snuggled his shoulder, said, “G'night, Daddy,” and trudged to my room.

Disappointed and feeling a little gloomy, I started thinking. This whole Zoe-saves-the-baobabs idea was ridiculous. I was more than likely never going to do anything special or be anyone special.

But the next thought that climbed into my mind changed me from a teeny sad sack to an enormous elephant-size worrywart.

I remembered Quincy telling me that the reason his parents got a divorce, or “went
splitsville
,” as he calls it, was because there never seemed to be enough money and they were always fighting about it. Suddenly, I got terrified. More than anything, I didn't want my mom and daddy to ever go
splitsville
.

Then another worry plopped on top of that one. What if Daddy changed his mind and sold the Wonderland? I didn't want to live anywhere but here.

These two worries brought every spark of happiness that had been dancing around inside me to a slow stop.

The moon lit my room through the half-open slats
of my window's shutters. Outside, an army of crickets chirped.

This had been a day of strange happenings—the astronomer from Madagascar and baobab trees. The beautiful picture of the row of baobabs flashed in my mind. I wanted to see one of the huge trees in person, but I doubted that would ever happen. Madagascar was a long way away.

I peeked out at the globe in the dark sky and for a few seconds wondered whether the tall man had a special name for the moon too. I climbed into bed, thinking about baobabs and the moon.

But it was the two worries that kept me staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.