Acting Out Read online

  Zoe is back—but do her friends want her there?

  “Okay, the dogs are all exercised and in their kennels. Let’s get to David’s!” Maggie says, flipping her ponytail behind her back. “His mom has lunch for all of us.”

  “Yum, let’s go,” Brenna says.

  We head across the street to David’s house. I’m glad my first day back is one with all the Vet Volunteers. Everyone seems excited to see me. But I sure do wish I knew whether Maggie was happy to have me back or not.

  I take a hard look at my cousin to see if I can find the answer in her face, but she is busy twirling the cat toothbrush Gran sent along for David’s cat at Sunita. Josh, Jules, and Brenna are talking about some Stream Cleanup Day they did. And I just trail behind, wondering how I’ll fit back in—if I’ll fit back in—with this tight group of friends: the Vet Volunteers.

  Collect All the Vet Volunteers Books

  Fight for Life

  Homeless

  Trickster

  Manatee Blues

  Say Good-bye

  Storm Rescue

  Teacher’s Pet

  Trapped

  Fear of Falling

  Time to Fly

  Masks

  End of the Race

  New Beginnings

  Acting Out

  LAURIE HALSE ANDERSON

  Acting Out

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Puffin Books,

  a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2012

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Copyright © Laurie Halse Anderson, 2012

  Title page photo copyright © Bob Krasner, 2011

  All rights reserved

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE

  ISBN: 978-1-101-57186-6

  Text set in Joanna MT

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ALWAYS LEARNING

  PEARSON

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  New Beginnings

  Chapter One

  You’re dumping me again, Mom.”

  “Zoe, don’t be dramatic.”

  Mom sits at Gran’s kitchen table and doesn’t take her eyes off me. I lean against the counter, cross my arms, and roll my eyes to the ceiling.

  “Zoe, it would be different if we were filming this movie only during the summer. But it’s going to take months. You can’t be out of middle school that long. Once summer starts, you can visit me for a week or two on set in Vancouver.”

  Visit. What does that mean? I guess Mom expects to be in Canada through the summer, but how long after that? And why can’t I spend the whole summer with her?

  Mom takes a tiny bite out of her Pop-Tart and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. She doesn’t usually eat sugary stuff like that, but here at Gran’s house there’s no organic yogurt in the fridge, and the bananas on her counter are rounding the corner from deep brown to black. Pop-Tarts for breakfast it is. I’m not even remotely hungry, though. Mom wrinkles her nose and takes another bite.

  We just arrived late last night and Mom is already leaving again. She’s continuing on to New York City. We used to live there together. Then I moved to Ambler before joining Mom in California, and now it’s back to Ambler again—for me, at least. In New York, Mom is meeting once more with the movie’s costume designer and checking in with some of her old soap-opera friends. They’re my friends, too, and I don’t see why I can’t at least make the trip to New York before settling in to life in Ambler, Pennsylvania, again.

  I try one more time. “Why can’t I just spend the weekend in New York with you before you fly to Vancouver? I can take the train back here by myself, you know I can.”

  “We’ve gone over and over this. You know I promised your grandmother that I would deliver you here. New York will be much too hectic. I wouldn’t have time to have fun with you; I have too much to fit in before we start shooting—”

  “But it’s spring break here this week!” I say. “I wouldn’t even be missing school.”

  “Which is why this is so perfect. You’ll have a little time to settle back in with Gran and Maggie before having to start school again.”

  Mom gets up from the table and hugs me. A car horn blares out front.

  “That’s my cab. Listen, Zoe, we’ll check in with each other every day or so. Once I’m on set it might be a little more time between calls or emails. But I promise we’ll stay in touch, okay? Of course we will.” Mom squeezes me hard and kisses my cheek. Her breath smells like strong coffee and even stronger peppermint. She gathers up her bags and sweeps toward the door.

  “Tell my mother good-bye for me. I can’t wait around until she’s finished with whichever four-legged friend she’s tending to now!” She waves as she leaves.

  “I love you,” I hear Mom sing out after the door has closed behind her.

  I sigh. Stranded again. Left behind by Mom because she has bigger plans than me. I guess I might as well go back to bed. I’m still pretty tired from traveling, and I don’t exactly feel ready to face this new—er, old—life. I’m heading back to my old bedroom when I hear my name. It’s my cousin Maggie. I can hear her talking to a boy and a girl whose voices I don’t recognize. I pause, standing behind the kitchen door separating Gran’s house from her vet clinic.

  “Late,” Maggie says. “Really late. Gran picked up Zoe and Aunt Rose from the airport after midnight. Their plane was delayed. Gran let me stay up so I could say hi to them. I think Aunt Rose has already left. She had to be in New York City this morning.”

  “Wow. It must be a big change, going from Hollywood back to living in Ambler. Does she seem different to you?” the girl asks.

  “Zoe? Not much. Even jet-lagged Zoe is pretty dramatic.” The way Maggie says it I’m not sure if she means that in a good way or not. I love her, but Maggie and I haven’t always gotten along.

  “But who knows. Gran pretty much sent us right to bed,” Maggie continues. “Then she and Aunt Rose stayed up talking. I think Zoe is still sleeping, but you’ll meet her at s
ome point today.”

  “Do you look alike?” the girl asks.

  “They’re cousins, not twin sisters!” the boy says.

  “We look nothing alike,” Maggie begins. “Well, she does have a little MacKenzie red in her long blond hair. But no freckles like me. And she dresses…she dresses…well, different. You’ll see.”

  What does Maggie mean by “different”? I just look neat and tidy. Okay, and rather stylish. I think about the three extra suitcases I begged Mom to let me bring, brimming with new jeans, sparkly shirts, and an embarrassing number of shoes. Maggie, I am sure, must look like her usual red-headed, flannel shirt–wearing self. She could look so much better if she just took a minute with her hair or cared a tiny bit about her clothes—and not just about whether they were clean or not. But all Maggie cares about is basketball and animals. Which are both great, but maybe she’ll finally let me give her some style tips this time around. Maybe.

  “How long will she be staying?” the girl asks.

  “I have no idea,” Maggie says with a funny voice. I wish I had seen her face when she said that. “Maybe the rest of the school year and the whole summer? Her mom’s filming in Vancouver will probably take about that long,” she continues.

  “I can’t believe her mom is a movie star,” the girl says.

  “I don’t think you could call her a movie star, but she’s an actress, anyway.”

  What?? I would definitely call my mother a movie star! Well, okay, maybe not yet. But she is a star of this movie, anyway.

  “My aunt is really pretty,” Maggie adds. “Zoe is, too.”

  Aw, that’s nice. I’m about to go show them what I look like when I hear the boy ask, “Are you happy she’s back? Will it be weird to share your grandmother again?”

  Yeah, I sure do want to hear the answer to this one.

  I listen closely. I hear only the metallic sound of cage doors opening and closing. The kids must have moved into the recovery room to clean cages. It’s Saturday morning, and I know that is on Gran’s Vet Volunteers to-do list.

  I open the door a tiny bit to try to hear better. I know they can’t see me here, but their voices are still muffled.

  “Are you coming in to help, or are you going to stand at the door all day?” The voice startles me. Standing behind me is Dr. J. J. MacKenzie, owner of Dr. Mac’s Place Veterinary Clinic to everybody here in Ambler, Pennsylvania. But to Maggie and me, she’s just Gran, wonder woman caretaker of orphaned granddaughters. Maggie, fulltime since her parents died in a car crash. And me, any time my mom’s acting career is more important than I am.

  “Zoe?” Gran examines me. “Still sleepy?” she asks.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Welcome back,” Gran says, holding the door wide.

  “It’s good to be back,” I say. I walk in with a small smile, but I don’t really mean it. There’s a lot about Ambler to love, but right now, it just feels like a place where I keep ending up—a place that isn’t my real home.

  “ ’Bout time you showed up to clean,” Maggie says, her head deep in a large kitten crate on the floor. Through the cage wires I can see her grin.

  “Hi, I’m Josh Darrow,” says the boy in the corner. He’s about my age and has friendly brown eyes and slightly curly brown hair. He has on the gloves Gran makes us wear when we clean around here.

  “This is Jules, my sister. We’re the newest Vet Volunteers.” Josh sweeps his yellow-gloved arm toward a girl holding a teeny gray kitten. The brother and sister look about the same age. She has the same brown eyes and the same color hair. Maybe they’re twins?

  “Hi,” the girl says shyly.

  “Hi. I’m Zoe,” I say, like that isn’t obvious. Of course they know who I am. Still, everyone just smiles. Even Gran.

  “Okay,” Gran begins, “if we’re finished with the cleaning, let’s have Maggie and Josh exercise our boarder dogs and Jules can show Zoe what we’re doing with those kittens.” Gran moves on to a mountain of paperwork on the counter. It’s a mess. Some things never change.

  “We have some little-bitties here,” Jules says, bending over Maggie’s now-clean kitten crate and settling the gray kitten into it. “Three of them are on bottles now, but not the two littlest ones. Have you used this before?” Jules holds up the eyedropper that we use to feed the smallest, weakest animals.

  “I have,” I say, heading to the sinks to scrub my hands, wrists, and forearms. It’s all about safety at Dr. Mac’s Place, and safety begins with cleanliness, as Gran always says.

  Jules and I work in silence for a while. We feed the two tiny kittens with the eyedropper and the three healthier kittens with small bottles. Jules had filled all the bottles with formula and set them on the warmer pad before we began. After each kitten is fed, we wipe the corners of their eyes, their mouths, and noses with a small, moistened gauze pad. We check their fur all over to be sure they are clean and don’t have any mites or fleas. And then we tuck each one back in under the heat lamp in the clean kitten crate.

  I can feel Jules sneaking looks at me as she tends to her kitten, but she doesn’t say anything. It seems like she’s shy. Maybe it’s up to me to make conversation.

  I gently scoop up one of the two tiny kittens from the crate and ask, “So, are you and Josh twins or just close in age?” The kitten opens and closes her mouth quickly, expecting, I guess, the eyedropper of milk. Her tiny tongue searches for more, and I keep squeezing, drop by drop. I’ve missed all this in California. My dog, Sneakers, doesn’t need any help with feeding—he loves to eat! I wish I could have brought him with me this time. I miss that little short-haired mutt. But our neighbor, Mr. Gregory, is taking care of him. He has three dogs of his own, so I guess one more is no big deal to him. I hope he’s able to give Sneakers some extra love with all those other dogs around.

  “We’re twins,” Jules says. I’m slightly startled. I’d already forgotten that I’d asked a question.

  I wait for Jules to tell me more about herself. But she doesn’t say anything else. She expertly moves on to her next kitten, cuddling the kitten beneath her chin before placing the bottle’s nipple in its mouth. The two just-fed kittens are sleepy and are curled up together. Another kitten is stumbling around the box, and Jules and I each have one in our hands. Five kittens. Tiny and motherless. Poor things.

  “Have you been in Ambler long?” I ask.

  “About a month,” Jules replies. Her kitten is a little squirmy. Jules stops feeding her a moment and rubs her tummy to “burp” her. Then she tries giving her the bottle again. The kitten settles and feeds. Jules sure knows her way around animals.

  “And you managed to become a Vet Volunteer so fast?” Gran must be busier than when I left a year ago if she’s taken on two more volunteers.

  “I was a volunteer at the animal shelter back in Pittsburgh where we lived before. I’m used to working with animals.” Jules cuddles her kitten and puts her back in the box.

  She picks up the last kitten and does her cuddle thing again. This one is mewing as loudly as she can. Jules gently shushes her as she brings the nipple to the kitten’s mouth. The kitten laps at the milk and closes her eyes.

  My kitten has not eaten enough. She’s the smallest, one of the ones we need to use the dropper with. I check the dropper to see how much she’s had. Not nearly enough. But she has fallen asleep in my hands.

  “Try blowing gently in her face. That might wake her up without scaring her,” Jules says quietly.

  I raise the kitten up to my face. It’s too bad I have to wake her. She looks so sweet and peaceful. But I take Jules’s suggestion and blow gently. The kitten’s whiskers move in the breeze. But she stays asleep. Her calico fur is like a dandelion puff, soft and barely there. In fact, she herself is barely there: she weighs almost nothing at all.

  “What do you think?” I ask Jules. “Should I just let her sleep?”

  “I’d give it another try. She’s the smallest, and Dr. Mac is worried that she might not make it. Meow at her,
too. That might wake her up enough to eat,” Jules suggests.

  Meow at her? That seems a little silly. I look into the box, and the three kittens are sleeping in a little pile. Jules adds the fourth one, all done eating now. The kitten curls up with the others and falls asleep, too. I look carefully at the one in my hand, and now I see that she really is the smallest by a lot. Her breathing looks shallower than the others, too.

  “Is she sick?” I ask.

  “Not that we know of, just tiny. The whole litter was abandoned in the grocery store parking lot. Sunita found them. Do you know her?” Jules asks.

  “Of course. Sunita was a Vet Volunteer before I was. And she sure loves cats! She must have flipped when she found abandoned kittens.”

  “Yeah, she was pretty mad. Who dumps a box of newborn kittens at the grocery store and walks away? Dr. Mac had to calm Sunita down just to get the box out of her hands. But Sunita is right. What kind of person does that?”

  What kind of person abandons anyone? A daughter, for instance. How come any time my mother has an acting job I get left behind? She should have taken me with her. She shouldn’t have abandoned me again.

  “Do you want me to try?” Jules asks.

  “What? Try what?” I don’t understand.

  “Feeding that calico,” Jules says.

  “Oh yeah, sure,” I say, handing her over. I forgot what I was doing. I got totally distracted, thinking about my mom again. Then I hear another familiar voice.

  “I wonder if you’re still a little jet-lagged.” It’s Gran. Where did she come from? “Do you need more sleep?” she presses, giving me a hard look.

  “No, I’m fine,” I reply. “Really!”

  “Well, if you’re sure about that, I think Maggie and Josh are heading over to David’s to see his new cat. We’re about done here if you two want to join them.” Gran closes the cage on another cat, one who has obviously had some surgery on her belly by the looks of the stitches and the cone-shaped Elizabethan collar around her neck. Most animals hate those plastic collars, but it keeps them from tearing out their stitches.