Masks (5 page)

“Thank you,” I say. “I hadn’t thought about all this. And I’ve already agreed to show up tomorrow. I think I need to take a little break from the clinic while I go see about AVM.”

I pull on my jacket and head for the door.

“You’re going to hate it!” Brenna calls after me.

W
hen I arrive at the clinic the next morning, I find Dr. Mac in the Herriot Room with Mittens on the examining table. She has a thermometer in her hand. “One hundred and four,” she reads to me. A cat’s normal temperature is around one hundred degrees.

I rush to Mittens and stroke her forehead. “Peritonitis?”

“That’s the most likely cause,” she agrees. “I’ve added a second antibiotic and will continue to support her with I.V. fluids. There’s a good chance this treatment will be effective.”

I wish she could have said it always works, but
I know that would be unrealistic. Each animal is an individual, just like each person. Animals all react differently to medication.

When I cradle Mittens in my arms, she licks my hand weakly. “It’s OK, girl,” I say, scratching between her ears. “You’ll be all right.”

The problem is—I’m not nearly as sure as I sound.

That afternoon, my father picks me up from school as we’d planned. He loads my bike into the back of our SUV so I won’t have to come back and get it. We drive across town to the AVM laboratory. My father seems excited and happy for me. I’m just nervous.

“Daddy, Brenna told me that they actually test on animals at AVM,” I say. “They don’t hurt them, do they?”

“No, I don’t think the animals experience pain,” he says. “They work in a humane way, and for a good cause. You’ll see.”

At the receptionist’s desk my father asks for his friend, Dr. Green, who comes out very quickly and shakes my father’s hand. “Good to see you, Ravi. This must be Sunita.”

My father introduces me and we head down a spotless hallway. It has gray walls and a gray carpet. Framed black-and-white photos hang on the wall. We pass doors that have glass windows on the top half. Inside are white rooms with laboratory equipment. People in white coats are intent on checking charts, moving beakers, working on computers, and performing all sorts of scientific-looking activities.

I can’t help but compare AVM Labs to Dr. Mac’s Place. Dr. Mac’s clinic is full of colorful furniture and curtains and pictures and the noise of animals. This quiet, gray place is absolutely its opposite.

Dr. Green stops in front of a door, pushes it open, and leads us in. A woman in her late twenties stands by a desk, checking a chart on a clipboard. “Julie,” Dr. Green calls to her. She looks over at us and smiles. She has light reddish-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes, and freckles across her nose.

“This is Julie Ames,” Dr. Green says as we walk over to join her. “She’s a researcher here. Julie, meet Sunita Patel, your new intern.”

“Welcome, Sunita,” Julie greets me.

My father jumps into the conversation. “Sunita
has excellent marks in science,” he tells Julie. “She will be a big help to you.” That embarrasses me, and I roll my eyes.

Julie smiles at me sympathetically.

“We’ll leave Sunita in your capable hands,” Dr. Green tells Julie.

“Pleased to meet you,” my father says to Julie, shaking her hand. He gives me a quick wave before leaving with Dr. Green.

“Ready for your first job, Sunita?” Julie asks. I nod and she leads me over to a table. On it are two racks of test tubes containing blue liquid.

“Each of these tubes has a slightly different chemical composition,” she explains. “We want to see how fast each solution evaporates when left uncovered.” Pulling open a drawer, she removes a clipboard with a chart on it. “You’ll chart the amount of liquid in each tube,” she says, handing the chart to me. She explains how to measure and date the chart, then leaves me to my job.

I wonder why they would need to know this. Then I start coming up with possible reasons. It would affect how they bottle and store the chemical solution. It might help them decide which one to use.

Just as I write in the last measurement, Julie comes to my side. She reads the chart, then smiles. “Excellent. Are you always this precise?”

“I guess so. I like math and science, and you have to be exact with them.”

“Absolutely,” she agrees. “You’ll be good at this.”

“I hope so,” I say, pleased that I’ve done well on my first assignment.

My next job is to test some other liquid solutions with litmus paper, which tells where they fall in a range between acid and alkaline. The paper turns a different color depending on the composition of the liquid. Julie gives me another clipboard with another chart on which to record my findings.

As I work, I wonder why Brenna is so upset about all this. I can’t wait to get home and tell her that she’s been excited over nothing. There isn’t anything to object to in the work they do at AVM.

I finish the tests and look over at Julie, who is filling in some charts of her own. She looks up and I catch her eye. “Done?” she asks.

I nod, smiling. This work is interesting and I enjoy doing it. Maybe lab work really is what I’m
best suited for. It’s so logical and precise—just like me.

“Good job,” she says, looking over my chart. “I have another job for you. Come with me.” I follow her out and down the hall. We enter another room. This room is entirely different from the last one. For one thing, it’s full of caged rodents! One wall is lined with shelves holding tanks of small gray mice, white rats, hamsters, and even rabbits.

“You…you experiment on these animals?” I ask. I try to keep my voice neutral. After all, Brenna warned me about this. Actually seeing the animals in their cages is a bit shocking to me, though.

“When I first began doing medical research, I was pretty freaked out by it, too,” Julie says. “But we don’t do product testing. This is a veterinary medicine facility. Right now we’re working on possible cures for animal diabetes and feline leukemia.”

“Do you…kill these animals?” I have to know.

“Sometimes,” Julie tells me.

“I’m not sure I could handle that,” I admit.

“Don’t worry, interns aren’t involved in that,”
Julie says. “All you have to do is help feed and water them.”

Taking care of animals was exactly what I wanted to get away from. But there isn’t too much I can do to hurt them if all I’m doing is feeding them. “OK,” I agree.

Julie pulls open a bottom cabinet and takes out a bag of food pellets. “Each tank has small bowls. Just fill them all with the food.” She hands me a pair of white padded gloves. “Use these to protect your hands.”

I wave them away. “I’m not afraid of animals,” I say.

She hands them back to me. “Use them anyway. Some of these animals are sick. The lab doesn’t want its employees taking any chances.”

Wearing the heavy gloves, I go from tank to tank. The little guys are really cute. There’s a tank of longhaired calico hamsters that are so pretty. Another tank has three lop-eared bunnies that are just too adorable. Then I come to a tank of five white rats. People think of rats as being dirty, but these rats are clean and full of personality. Their pink noses twitch and they look up at me with their trusting eyes, eager for their food.

I forget all about why these animals are here and just enjoy feeding them, picking them up and stroking their fur. One rat with a slightly bent whisker is especially friendly. He sniffs my glove and then curls up as if he’s getting ready to sleep in my palm. Gently, I return him to his tank.

Julie comes back after about fifteen minutes. “How are you doing?” she asks.

“Good,” I reply.

When my shift at the lab is over, I unlock my bike and ride out to the street. As I near Dr. Mac’s Place, I spot Brenna, David, and Maggie walking to mask-making class. I don’t want them to be mad at me. I need to fix yesterday’s fight. I can’t go through everything I have to face—Mittens, working at the lab—without my friends. Pedaling fast, I catch up to them. “Hey, guys!” I call out. “Wait.”

“I thought you were at the lab,” Brenna says coldly as I brake beside them.

I ignore her tone. I’m not in the mood to fight. “I just finished,” I tell her.

“Well, how was it?” Maggie asks.

“The people were all very nice to me,” I say.

“Forget the people!” Brenna says passionately. “What about the animals? It’s as though they’re in jail there—and on death row! Only they aren’t guilty of doing anything wrong. Don’t you think they have rights, too?”

“Of course animals have rights,” I agree.

“Then how can you be a part of what goes on there?” Brenna asks, shaking her head forlornly.

“It’s a medical research lab,” I say, repeating what Dr. Mac told us the other day. “The research there is done to find new cures and treatments for sick animals. That’s a good thing.”

“There’s a laugh!” Brenna chimes in. “Killing animals to save them. Figure the logic of that!”

“Oh, give Sunita a break!” Maggie says. “Let her make up her own mind on the subject. Besides, didn’t Gran say that those labs are needed to make new medicines for animals?”

“Yes, she said that,” Brenna replies. “And I think there has to be another way to do it without killing poor defenseless animals.”

“Why were you at school so late?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.

“We stayed to play basketball in the gym.
Now we’re going to the mask-making class,” David says. “Are you coming?”

“Well, it depends,” I say. “Do you know how Mittens is doing?”

“Slightly better,” Maggie says. “I called Gran to tell her we’d be at school till late and I asked about Mittens. She told me Mittens’ fever is a hundred and two.”

I nod. “Then I’ll come to class and see her after.”

The walk to Michaela’s house is quiet and uncomfortable. Brenna acts icy and clearly mad at me. Maggie is just quiet and thoughtful. David tries to keep up the conversation, but it isn’t easy to act normal when it’s only he and I talking.

At class we continue to work on the wire framework for our masks. Several times I look up and catch Michaela watching me. When our eyes meet, she doesn’t seem embarrassed. “Nice work,” she simply says.

I ask Michaela for permission to call home. My mother had wanted me to check in when I got to the mask-making class. Michaela directs me to the wall phone in the kitchen. As I leave my message on the answering machine at home,
I have the oddest feeling of being watched. I look over at Michaela, but she’s helping David with his wire work. Then I glance at the picture window in the kitchen and see the matted black cat sitting on the outside windowsill, staring in—staring directly at me.

Is it Michaela’s cat? I look around to ask her, but she’s not there.

I hurry to the kitchen door. I’m determined now to catch that cat. I want to cut all those matted clumps out of its fur—to brush it, to feed it, to de-skunk it. I’d make sure to be careful and not do anything to endanger this creature. It would be my final animal rescue.

I open the back door and look out at the cat. It peers at me with those amazing green eyes. I take a step outside the door. In a flash, it jumps off the sill and darts into the woods behind Michaela’s house. I walk a few more steps into the yard, searching. The cat has, once again, disappeared.