How to Outrun a Crocodile When Your Shoes Are Untied by Jess Keating Page B

rang in my ears. “Fifteen minutes until the limo leaves!” I could hear her cackling at her own joke as she cleaned.
    â€œComing!” I yelled. My voice sounded hoarse. I didn’t have time to think about what to do next. I didn’t know if there was anything to do at all, actually. I was in a daze as I dressed for the zoo. I hoped the familiar brown uniform would help me disappear.
    Mom and I drove in the back entrance and parked the car by a row of cleaning stations by the African Pavilion. I caught a whiff of the hippos instantly; they smelled like living, breathing hunks of shower mold. Something to look forward to once we moved in.
    â€œSo what do you think?” Mom asked, holding her arms open wide in front of the house as we stepped out of the car.
    I shrugged. The house, which was tucked behind the lion exhibit, wasn’t that bad. At least as far as fake base-camp housing went. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. There was a fake thatched roof and gauzy curtains in the windows. The sign out front said “African Expedition: RESEARCH STATION.” Think Africa meets IKEA.
    Lions roared and grumbled beyond the open window. Mom’s project was working with the large carnivores here, so I guess they figured we wouldn’t mind being surrounded by fangs and angsty felines. There was already furniture, but Mom insisted that the place needed a “good inside-out cleaning.” I couldn’t argue, as the whole place smelled like mothballs had figured out how to reproduce and have a party.
    â€œCan I have the room on the right?” I asked once she’d given me a quick tour. It was the second biggest one, and since I was here cleaning, I figured I should get first dibs before Daz. Mom agreed without looking up from her scrubbing.
    For the next hour and a half, we cleaned and disinfected every surface of the house, including the countertops and bathtub, which I thought were beige but turned out white.
    When the three main rooms were respectable according to Mom, we sat out on the front doorstep and caught our breaths. Despite my mood, it was a bright summer day, and the sound of sandals slapping against the pavement surrounded us. I’d been getting a headache from all the fumes, and my stomach was rolling with hunger, so I knew I had to make a getaway before Mom could launch into another dirt session. I told her that I needed some air and would be back in a few minutes. I wanted to be alone.
    Ignoring the groups of families and tourists that had started to swarm around, I wandered down the Reptile Path. Usually, I loved watching the animals at the zoo, just living their lives. It was one place where everybody could be themselves, whether they had scales like crocs or were just big weirdos like the anteaters. It was all allowed. But today everything felt wrong. I checked my watch for the third time that day, wondering where Liv was and what she was doing. Probably hanging out with her new friends. The thought nibbled away at my mind as I walked.
    Somehow, I ended up in the Crocodile Pavilion. The air was wet and dense like a rainforest, but the quiet sounds of trickling water calmed me down. I parked myself on a bench and stared at Louie, the ancient crocodile. My throat was thick, but I couldn’t tell if it was from all the chemicals or plain old loneliness. I sunk my head back onto the bench and stared through the cloudy glass ceiling up into the sky at the birds. The problem with birds, I realized, is that they could fly away and I can’t.
    Lucky beasts.
    Maybe I had more in common with Darwin and his busted wing than I realized.
    I would have stayed there all day if a small movement hadn’t caught the corner of my eye. I lolled my head to the side to see better.
    A little girl in a very unfortunate purple dress and lime-green leggings was standing on her tiptoes, trying to hoist herself up over the top of the partition to get a better look at the exhibit.