Time to Fly by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

to just about anybody. Yet now I feel tongue-tied around my own mother.
    â€œâ€¦And it’s wonderful being so near the ocean,” Mom is telling me. She sighs happily. “I know it’s taken a long time, but everything has finally fallen into place the way I’d hoped. I can’t wait for you to see the house. Maybe next weekend we can go shopping and pick out furniture for your room—”
    â€œYou’re coming back here next weekend?” Wow—this is a surprise.
    â€œNo…I meant go shopping in Los Angeles,” Mom says slowly.
    I stop and frown, puzzled. “I’m going out there for a visit?”
    Mom bites her lip. “I didn’t explain myself very well, did I. What I mean to say is, I want you to fly back to California with me now, for good. I’ve waited so long for this moment. Now that we’ve got a house to move into, I just can’t wait another minute to start our new life together.” She beams at me and takes my hand.
    I feel like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. I thought I was surprised when she showed up this morning, but now I’m—stunned.
    Mom keeps beaming at me. I want to share her joy and excitement, but somehow I can’t. Still, I have to say something. “ Now? Gosh, Mom, I—um—I guess I didn’t realize it would be so—soon. I mean, it’s a big move, and school’s not out yet, and…” Suddenly, all the reasons not to go start pounding through my head: Maggie doesn’t want me to leave. I don’t want to leave her —or Gran. Besides, I still have to catch E.T. and find him a home, and get the parrot-protection program going, and…
    The leash jerks, and Sneakers yanks me off the path to chase a chipmunk. It’s his favorite game. He’s never actually caught one; I think he just loves the chase. The chipmunk zips up a tree, and Sneaker stands upright against the trunk, pawing the tree and barking, as though he wanted to follow the chipmunk right up into the branches.
    I wonder if Los Angeles has chipmunks. Otherwise, what will Sneakers chase—cars?
    I finally convince him to give it up, and we rejoin Mom on the sidewalk. “Is there a quarantine for new dogs there?” I ask.
    My mother looks puzzled. “Where?”
    â€œIn California.”
    â€œI—I’m not sure what you mean, Zoe.” Mom’s voice sounds oddly strained.
    â€œWhat I mean is, will Sneakers have to spend some time in quarantine before he can move in with us? Some places do that, you know.”
    A cloud moves across the sun, and Mom shivers. “Zoe, it’s not as if California’s a different country. Though I do have to say, it’s quite a bit warmer than here,” she says lightly. “Listen, honey—”
    Uh-oh. That’s how she always starts bad news. I cut her off. “Sneakers will be coming too, won’t he?”
    â€œNow, Zoe—”
    â€œWhy not?” I demand, before she even gets the word no out.
    There’s a long pause.
    â€œI just don’t think it would be a good idea right now,” she says quietly.
    I look at Sneakers prancing ahead of us, his ears flopping. A lump swells in my throat. “Why?”
    â€œWell, things will be rather unsettled for a while. Moving, getting you into a new school …and my schedule will be very demanding.” She pauses again, searching for words, then says firmly, “Dogs need consistency. They need a routine. They need someone who’s going to be there for them and take care of them every day.”
    Sounds like she’s quoting Gran.
    I watch Sneakers rushing from side to side, as if every new smell is something to chase. “Sneakers needs me ,” I say hotly. “He was a homeless, half-dead, starving stray, and I took him in and brought him back to life. I’m his routine. I’m his home—his family.”
    â€œZoe, dear, I think he