How to Outrun a Crocodile When Your Shoes Are Untied (15 page)

“Why did you have to name me after a snake?” The question sprang from my mouth. I knew I sounded whiny, but I really didn't understand. My name felt like an inescapable reminder of how bizarre this family is. Like a bold stamp on my face that labeled me, that I'd never be able to rub off. They were twelve once; how could they
not
know that some stinking reptile wasn't exactly a great inspiration for a baby name.

I didn't even bother to let them answer; the flood of tears had started. “Practically my whole class will be there, waiting for me to mess up, not to mention Grandpa's stupid
movie
crew
will have their cameras up my nose, and absolutely
nobody
cares about how any of this makes me feel, and no matter what I do I
never
feel brave for real!” I stormed around the kitchen, avoiding eye contact while tears fell onto my lime-green shirt. Darwin ruffled his feathers and clawed at his cage door, sensing that I was upset.

Mom was silent but gave me a small nod of understanding. Dad was running his hands through his hair, clearly thrown off by my crying. Sugar looked like she wanted to jump up from her chair and wrap me in a hug.

“Honey. You want to know why we named you after that snake?” she asked quietly, folding her hands on her lap.

I stared at her, squinting through the blur of tears.

“Your father and I were working together, in South America. This was long before you were born. Actually, it was before we even got together. We were on a team together looking for anacondas, and…well, I was pretty new at the whole field research thing.”

I nodded with a jerk of my head, partially distracted by the image of my mom being not capable of something. Dad's lips began to curl up in a small smile under his mustache.

“We found the snake we were looking for, but when we managed to wrangle it and tag him,” she paused, embarrassment in her eyes. “Well, I couldn't hold on, and I fell right off the boat into the water. Your father, he didn't even hesitate.” She grinned. “He jumped right in the water after me, got me away from the snake, and hauled me out.” I could tell she was amused at the memory because her eyes crinkled a little. Sugar made a teeny cooing noise.

“That was how we fell in love, Ana. If it wasn't for that snake—and, yes, he was a big and ugly snake—we probably wouldn't have gotten together. And
you
probably wouldn't be here. We wanted to name our daughter after what started it all.”

I looked at my dad, who was nodding, a goofball look on his face.

Huh.

A sigh whooshed out of my mouth, like the rush of air from a deflated tire. I admit, I was sort of wishing that my parents had fallen in love over some beautiful, exotic bird instead of the snake, but really, that was kind of…
sweet
.

I dried my eyes, not knowing what to say.

My dad spoke. “Even if you don't like your name, one day you'll see that you can't let other people make you feel bad. There's a saying”—he cleared his throat and put his hand in the air—“if you stand tall, you'll be shot at. If you stoop down, you'll get stepped on. Everybody faces this, Ana. It's up to you to decide what you want and who you are. One day, honey, you'll learn that what other people think doesn't matter. What makes you happy, that's what's important.”

Mom reached an arm around the back of his shoulder. I knew they weren't trying to get all PSA on me, but I couldn't help but stifle a small grin.

“Now,” Mom said, putting her arm around my shoulder. “Do you still want to do this, Ana? Say the word and I'll get you out.” She turned to stare at me head on.

I swallowed hard and started to shake my head. I felt numb inside, like my body had felt too many emotions in the past month and had put up a “Come Back Later” sign. I didn't know what to think or what to feel; I was just totally empty. Mom squeezed my shoulders and gave Dad a quick look. I knew she was trying not to look disappointed in me. And maybe she wasn't.

Maybe it wasn't
her
disappointment I was feeling at all.

“I don't know,” I mumbled.

That's when the phone rang.

Mom's eyes softened as she looked at the caller ID. Her voice was sympathetic. “It's Liv, dear. Should I say you're busy?”

“If you keep a goldfish in a dark room, it will become pale.”

—Animal Wisdom

I jumped in surprise.

Riiiinnng…

“Liv?” My hands started to shake. “She's away touring right now, why would she call?” The ringing continued as Dad looked confused.

“Is someone going to pick that up?” he asked.

I nodded. “I got it,” I said, reaching for the phone. Taking a deep breath, I clicked it on.

Liv was on the other end. “Hello? Ana? It's me. What the heck is all this I'm reading about you giving a presentation?” Her words came out in one long sentence. I could hear the grin in her voice.

I gasped. “What? Hi! Where? Did the Sneerers blog about it or something?”

Liv giggled. “No, monkey butt! It's in the zoo newsletter. I signed up years ago, 'member? It says, ‘Ana Wright, granddaughter of Shep Foster, will be hosting a presentation with a select group of reptiles, on Sunday, June 7,'” she recited. “That's
you
, last time I checked!”

I exhaled. “Oh. Well, yeah,” I said. “I mean. It's true. Or it was. I'm not so sure anymore,” I admitted.

She shrieked. “How could you not tell me, Ana?! Have you been taken over by a martian?! I want to
see
it! Can you get someone to film it, maybe?” she asked. Frustration stabbed at me. How could she act so normal when she'd basically chosen New Zealand over me?

I grimaced. “Well, I'm pretty sure Ashley will have it up on the Internet if she has her way,” I groaned. I gripped my hands into fists.

“Hah, of course she will,” Liv said flippantly. The tinny phone line crackled in my ear.

“So,” I said, filling the long pause between us. “I hear you're liking it there.”

Liv sighed. “I know you're mad at me about the cupcake wish,” she said. “You know I don't want to make you upset, I just…I like it here, you know? It's like being on an adventure.”

I nodded silently.

“And we are still best friends,” she said. She began to giggle. “It seems like you're having a perfectly fine time without me, Miss Fancy Presentations!”

I frowned. “It hasn't exactly been easy here lately. Sometimes it feels like I have no idea who I am without you,” I said. I looked down at my bright green shirt. “A lot has changed.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I feel the same way. But I don't want you to hate me for wanting to stay here.”

Shaking my head, I knew the answer to that. No matter how much I wanted Liv back, I didn't want her to be sad where she was. “No, I don't. I'm really glad you're happy there.”

And I was. This whole best friend living far away thing was going to take a little more getting used to.

“So, you'd better go get ready, huh?” she said suddenly. “For your presentation.”

I shook my head. “Actually, I'm not too sure if I'm going to do it. There's a lot of people out there, and, well, I don't think I'm ready,” I said.

She was silent for a minute. “That's okay. There's always another crocodile, right?”

“Thanks, Liv. I'll talk to you once you're back from your tour,” I said. I felt like giving her a hug, but the best we had was the phone. “Thanks for calling. I'm sorry for being weird about you wanting to stay.”

“Me too, for messing us up,” she said. “I'll send you a postcard from Lake Taupo! That's our next stop,” she said happily. “My dad is going skydiving!”

I tried to picture quiet Mr. Reed doing something as crazy as skydiving. I guess everybody was changing, even the grown-ups.

When we hung up, I wandered back into the kitchen.

“How was she? Loving her new home, I bet?” Mom smiled. I knew she was avoiding mentioning my presentation.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “She loves it there.”

A sharp knock on the door alerted us all, and Grandpa strode in with a grin, wearing one of his brightest Hawaiian shirts yet. “Crowd's ready, Janie—hey, what's wrong, Banana?” he said. His eyebrows knit together as he took in my face; I'm sure I looked like a splotchy mess. It had been quite the morning of bawling and confessing. I was ready for a nap already.

“Ana doesn't feel up to the presentation, Dad,” Mom said gently.

He looked at me for a beat, then gave a soft smile. “Oh! Well…that's…I understand. Mind if I talk to her for a second then?” He held out his hand to me, ignoring Mom's questioning look.

“It's okay, Mom,” I said, reluctantly grabbing his hand and following him away from everybody's stares.

He put his arm around my shoulders as he walked down the hall. “Tough day, huh?” he said, peeking into my room, seemingly looking for something. His eyes lit up when he saw my desk.

“I just don't think I have it in me, Grandpa. I'm really sorry,” I said. The words felt so heavy coming out of my mouth. I wished I could drag them back in. I didn't want to disappoint him either.

“Hey, that's no problem,” he said. “Say, did you ever get to take a look at this?” He walked over and picked up his old sketchbook, sitting next to mine on my desk. He flipped through the pages wistfully as I nodded slowly.

“Um, yeah. I did. You were good,” I mumbled. Guilt flushed over me; I didn't want to tell him that I had a hard time looking at his sketchbook. That little boy holding the crocodile in the picture seemed to have everything I didn't.

Talent. Guts.
Especially
guts. I didn't need another reminder.

A laugh escaped his mouth as he tilted his head to examine the inside of the front cover. “I'd forgotten about this picture!” he said, pulling me over to see it.

“How old were you there?” I asked absently. I wanted something—anything—to distract me from the waterworks that were threatening to show up again.

He brought the picture closer to his face and squinted. “Oh, I'd guess maybe seven or eight. Look how terrified I am at that croc!” He chuckled.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at the picture again, examining the messy blond boy holding a young crocodile, with a crowd of kids looking on in awe. “You don't look scared to me,” I said. Maybe that's why it was so hard to live up to this family. The bar was so high. Shame crept over me again as I thought of my parents, who were probably trying to scramble to fill my presentation.

“Ana.” He paused, looking down at me. “What exactly do you see in this picture?” His blue eyes were full of questions.

I shrugged. “I see you as a little kid, holding a croc.” Why was he trying to rub it in?

The corner of his lips turned upward, and for the first time, I saw where my mom had gotten her mischievous twinkling eyes.

“Ana,” he said, pointing to the young blond boy. “That's not me.”

I stiffened. “What?”

I watched as his finger moved on the picture, not to point at the small blond boy with the croc, but to one of the onlookers in the crowd around him. A chubby boy with a buzz cut looked back at me, nearly invisible in the group. It was clear he was enamored with the crocodile, but you could see a distinct fear in his wide eyes.
Familiar
eyes
.

My grandpa.

Part of the crowd. In the background.

Scared.

“No!” I said, looking up at him with surprise. “You were scared!”
And
chubby!
I wanted to add.

He laughed. “This was my first visit to a zoo. This kid”—he tapped the blond boy again—“was the zookeeper's son. It took me another two years to even get the guts to pick up a croc of my own!” The corners of his eyes crinkled.

Wow.

I didn't even know what to say.

“Everybody gets scared, Banana,” he said softly.

I nodded, still trying to wrap my brain around the idea of Grandpa being a wallflower. Well, a zooflower.

“I pretty much feel scared all the time,” I muttered. “I'm not brave like you and Mom.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean. But you know what I've learned about bravery? It's not something you just
have
. It's something you choose. And the more you choose it, the more it grows. That's what I try to remember when I get scared.”

I thought about the little seedling of bravery that felt crippled and small in my chest. Bending and breaking to the panic I felt.

“All you have to do is live for you,” he said simply. “If you want something, and it scares you…well, you're the one who gets to choose whether that stops you. Nobody else. And sometimes, the stuff that scares us is the stuff that means the most to us.”

I gulped. A buzzing feeling was beginning to spread over my chest and throat. Somewhere, deep underneath the limesicle coating of bitterness and fear, his words really hit me. The brave part of me was shuddering and forcing its way through.
It
knew what I wanted to do. Even if the rest of me hadn't caught up yet.

“Grandpa,” I said quietly, as he closed the book and set it back onto my desk.

“Hmm?” he replied.

“I want to give my presentation,” I said the words before the fear could beat me to it.

He lifted his head with a deep inhale and grinned. “I thought you might. Come on.” He gestured out the door. I nodded timidly and followed him out.

“Oh and, Banana? I'm proud of you, with or without this.” He squeezed my shoulder before bounding into the kitchen. He eagerly clapped his hands once, and Mom looked up from her conversation with Dad and Sugar. I felt everyone's eyes on me.

It was now or never.

Do or die.

Alexander the Great or Ana the Anonymous.

I thought for a moment but already could feel the words bubbling up inside of me.

“I'll do it,” I said firmly.

Mom lit up with a smile and scurried over to squeeze my shoulders. “My brave girl,” she said, brushing some of my messy hat hair from my cheeks.

Mom turned to Sugar. “Can we get a hand, Sugar? I think you'll be able to fix this much better than I would.” She gave her a gentle smile and touched a hand to my puffy red eyes and face.

Sugar popped up from her chair and clapped her hands. “Ooh, you bet I can! I thought y'all would never ask!” She squealed and ran into the living room to grab her purse. She returned, brandishing a comb and several pots of makeup.

“Ana girl, you best be ready to sparkle!” she cried, grabbing my shoulders to shove me onto a chair.

It was go time.

Things You Can Always Count On:

1.
Dads will do anything to keep their daughters from crying.

2.
Moms will do anything to keep their daughters from not trying.

3.
Grandfathers are never,
ever
what they seem. Even if you do have supposed “photographic evidence.”

4.
Women named Sugar, despite appearances and the fact that they may or may not be dating your grandfather, are excellent people to have around in a hair and makeup emergency.