Zera and the Green Man Read online

  Here it comes. I wonder what it’ll it be this time, no v-phone for a week or I’m going to be grounded from celebrating my birthday tomorrow with Abby, or . . .

  “I know it’s your birthday and you don’t really want to go to this event, but acting out is not the answer,” he began. He stared at the green streak. “Is that Dye & Go?”

  “Yeah. Made with henna, and those ocean plants. It’s the only stuff I found that I’d use. It’s temporary.”

  The Toad’s “pseudo-father figure” expression changed. A glimmer of amusement crossed his features. “Well, maybe it won’t be so shocking to the people at Biotech, because it’s one of our own products. Do me a favor though, Zera. Don’t ever pull something like this again. I’m not going to punish you, this time, not on your birthday, but I want you to consider yourself warned. Fair enough?”

  No punishment? Cool! Zera’s face broke out into a huge smile.

  It was then that she spied the three boxes by the front door. The smallest, about a foot tall and wide, had holes in it. It was stamped with large red letters: LIVE MATERIALS and FRAGILE.

  “Are those for me?”

  “Got your name on them.”

  She went to them. The address labels were penned in curly, elaborate, old-fashioned script that she’d have recognized anywhere without reading the name. They’re from Nonny! Three presents! She didn’t even tell me. Maybe my birthday’s not going to be so bad after all.

  “Can I open them?”

  Tiffany appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen. She wore her favorite jacket, a white fur from the 1970s.

  Dead animals, thought Zera, figures. “You may open them later,” said Tiffany. “We have to leave. Get your coat.”

  “But this one says ‘Live Materials.’” Zera pointed to the box with the holes. “Maybe it’s a pet, something alive.” The opposite of your coat.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tiffany said. “Your grandmother knows you can’t have a pet.”

  Zera’s new bubble, one of brief happiness, burst. Tiffany spoke the truth. In the last three years she had asked for a pet many times, anything to make her feel a little less lonely. Tiffany was clear on the matter. She didn’t think The Toad should allow animals in his home. It was unclean, and inconvenient, and he didn’t need another responsibility. As usual, The Toad didn’t go against her advice.

  “You know,” her uncle said, gesturing at the box, “I’m pretty sure it’s a plant. We get shipments like that at the lab all the time. It’ll be fine until we get back.”

  “A plant? Can’t I just open it and see?”

  “Why in the world would Guinevere send a plant?” Tiffany said, puckering her highly-glossed lips in disapproval. “You don’t need any plants.”

  Zera glared at her.

  “You can wait.” Tiffany said. “You should get some kind of punishment for your hair-dying stunt.” She turned to the Toad. “Did you get the E-SAT washed?” The E-SAT was The Toad’s brand new vehicle, a huge Electric Suburban All-Terrain truck that he’d bought with his first-ever work bonus.

  “Yep.”

  Tiffany glanced at Zera, at her hair, and shook her head slightly in one last display of disapproval. “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter Four

  They arrived at dusk to find the brand new All-American Burger Depot lit up like a patriotic amusement park. The building mimicked the American flag, a big concrete rectangle painted red, white, and blue with stars and stripes. For the Grand Opening, fiber-optic Christmas lights in the same colors decorated the building and the outside patio.

  Zera nearly retched when she spied the twelve-foot-tall plastic bull, glowing atop the restaurant. He wore cowboy duds — jeans, a red gingham shirt, chaps, and a fringed vest — and held a lasso that curled above him to form the six-foot-high neon words “All-American.”

  She had to ask as her uncle’s E-SAT pulled into the parking lot, “What is that thing on top of the building?”

  “That, Zera, is All-American Mac.”

  “Ewww.” From inside the vehicle she heard the throbbing beat of a band playing country and western music.

  “This is a huge event,” said Tiffany.

  “Yep,” The Toad croaked out the word. “The biggest ever. The franchise CEO’s here, BioTech execs and scientists, even the mayor. Tomorrow is the Grand Opening for the public. It’ll be an even bigger party then.” Theodore braked, suddenly pitching them forward. “Sorry. Hey Tiffany, did you see the Channel 8 news van?”

  He’d pulled into a parking spot crookedly and had to back out again. Zera could almost see the nervousness radiating off her uncle.

  “I sure did. Channel 11’s here too.” Tiffany checked her makeup in the lighted mirror on the visor. “You know, they may want to interview you.”

  The Toad pulled into the parking spot again, this time on the yellow line on the passenger side. “Good enough,” he said under his breath. He turned off the ignition and pushed his black-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “I’ve prepared a short speech. I hope it’ll be enough.”

  Walking toward the building, they saw a group of people across the street with signs. “What’s going on over there?” Zera wondered.

  About twenty protesters marched on the sidewalk, carrying large signs. Six policemen, in riot gear, stood watch. Zera read, “All-American Does Not Represent ALL Americans; Bioengineering is not good for man or other living things; YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT. One says, ‘The Green G’s are coming.’ Who are the Green G’s? “

  “Who cares?” Tiffany said. “They’re all a bunch of nuts.”

  Theodore looked over at the group. “The Green G’s are the Green Guerrillas, an environmental activist group.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of them,” said Zera.

  “The Green Guerrillas . . .” Tiffany hugged her coat around her, shot a look at the protesters. “That’s the organization your old high school friend became involved in, isn’t it?”

  The Toad blushed. “Lily Gibbons started it.” His eyes searched the crowd. Zera thought he looked like he was afraid he might see her there and wondered about Lily Gibbons — she’d never heard of her before. After a few seconds The Toad’s furrowed brow relaxed. “I don’t think we have to worry about that group. I doubt they understand the science behind what we’re doing.”

  “Maybe,” said Zera, “they understand common sense instead.”

  Tiffany turned to Zera, her cat-eyes narrowing. “Listen, missy — this is a big night for Theodore, for all of us, and we expect you to be on your best behavior.” Her hand went up to smooth her blonde tresses. “Otherwise, your uncle might have to make you wait to open those presents from Guinevere.”

  “As far as I know,” Zera said, glancing at the red, white, and blue building, “this is still a free country.”

  “Ladies,” said The Toad, “I think we need to calm down.”

  “I have a right to my opinion,” murmured Zera. She silently dared Tiffany to follow up on her threat. She knew Tiffany could be mean, but it wasn’t her style to do something truly hateful in front of her uncle.

  Entering the double doors, the trio was greeted by the franchise’s female mascot, a robotic cow-human.

  “All-American Marilyn,” The Toad said.

  Marilyn, like All-American Mac, stood upright and had a human body shape. The hard foam structure gave her bovine facial features the texture of human flesh. She was decked out in a tight red jumpsuit, blue scarf, and high-heeled pumps. She held two American flags, one in each hoof.

  “Let’s put our coats away and get our nametags, shall we?” Tiffany said.

  Standing in line for their nametags, they watched Marilyn’s routine. In an electronically activated voice, she breathily exclaimed, “Try our Beefy Fries. They’re All-American!” At the words “All-American,” she waved her flags. Next came a shimmy-dance from horn to hoof as she exclaimed, “Our milk-shakes are Moo-Licious!” She ended with a “Mooo! Mooo! Mooo!” while turning her head from side to side
, winking.

  An older man working at the table winked at Tiffany. “They should have named her Marilyn ‘Moo-roe,’ don’t you think?”

  “Oh, how clever!”

  Another man who looked to be in his late 20’s, but was balding (Zera could see the bare top of his head in the security mirrors overhead) walked up to them. He wore a navy blue suit almost identical to The Toad’s. The dark hair that circled his head matched the color of his large, furry eyebrows, brows that reminded Zera of caterpillars. “So, Theo,” he said, “what do you think of Marilyn?”

  “Hey, Harv. She’s all right, I guess. As long as she sells hamburgers.”

  “And don’t forget Beefy Fries.” Harv laughed and gave Theodore a friendly clap on the shoulder.

  The Toad beamed.

  “It’s gonna be your night, buddy,” said Harv. “Gonna be your night.”

  Theodore introduced Tiffany and Zera to Harvey Headstrom, one of the newer scientists at BioTech Multinational. Zera noticed that he clapped The Toad on the back again when he said something about meeting the deadline for the project. Zera’s attention drifted as they chatted about her uncle’s new E-SAT and his lame vanity plate: NU CR8N, New Creation. She caught herself absentmindedly staring at the glowing reflective pattern the light made on Harv’s shiny head until Tiffany nudged her. Embarrassed, Zera diverted her gaze. A dark sea of geekdom surrounded her. Most, obviously from BioTech, wore eerily similar dark suits and white shirts. Although The Toad’s DNA bowtie is icky, at least he doesn’t look totally cloned. I stand out like a sore thumb — a big, sore, pink thumb.

  A huge monitor for Americo, the pharmaceutical company that created Burger Depot and funded Biotech’s work, hung on the wall opposite the nametag table. Americo products flashed across the screen as a spokeswoman’s voice said: “Our research has made acne a thing of the past. Our next goal is to rid the world of cancer.”

  Instead of the usual teenaged fast-food employees, waiters in black and white uniforms stood at attention behind the service counters. Conveyor belts under heat lamps moved forward while 3-D technology on the wall monitors showed pictures of the franchise’s offerings, glistening and sizzling. Zera didn’t see anyone under the age of twenty and breathed a little easier. It’s embarrassing enough to be seen in public in this dress, much less by kids my age. I’ll have to remember to avoid all TV cameras, though. She fingered her green strand of hair and fidgeted, rocking on her heels as the strains of an old tune she recognized, Thank God I’m a Country Boy, drifted through the room. Zera groaned inwardly. Maybe I should go to the restroom and escape out a window.

  Tiffany noticed Zera squirming and shot her a look that carried an unmistakable warning — You’d better cool it.

  “Have you seen Mr. Cadger?” Theodore asked Harv.

  “Over there,” Harv pointed, “talking to the Burger Depot people and the reporters. Chet Wrangler is going to speak first, then Cadger. In fact,” Harv said, as he looked at his watch, which held a mini v-phone, “it’s about time. You’d better find a seat.”

  Zera followed Harv’s nod and spotted The Toad’s boss in the next room, a short man with close-cropped blond hair, in the middle of a crowd. The tables around them were set with linens, silver cutlery, and crystal — details that amused Zera — pretty fancy for burgers. In the far back of the room someone had turned off the band equipment and the walls glowed with large projections of ads from Americo. The ads showed medical advancements Americo had helped produce. One was a repeat of what the spokeswoman on the monitor had said about acne and possible cancer cures. Another explained that a bio-engineered smoking cessation pill was well on its way to making cigarette smoking a vice of the past. Zera wondered if Harv wished they would work on curing hair loss instead.

  Tiffany tugged on her arm. “Come on.” Zera was pulled away in the direction of Bob Cadger. Zera heard her uncle say behind her, “Chairs are filling fast. . . Tiffany . . . ?” Zera looked back to see him follow them in his usual puppy-dog manner, until he was intercepted by another co-worker.

  Elbowing her way to the center of the fray, Tiffany interrupted the small man with dandelion-colored hair talking to a man with an electronic notepad. “Good evening, Mr. Cadger.”

  “Oh, hello,” Cadger said, turning from the reporter. A look of recognition flickered across his face. “You’re Theodore Green’s girlfriend, aren’t you? We’ve met before, at the company picnic, I believe.”

  “Yes.” Tiffany flashed her most winning smile. “I’m Tiffany Taylor.” Zera noticed that she brought a slender hand up to her double chin for a moment. Giving him a 1,000 watt smile, Tiffany shook hands with Cadger, then put a hand on Zera’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted Theodore’s niece Zera to meet you. She’s the youngest member of the Green dynasty. It’s so exciting that the opening is today. You see, it’s Zera’s birthday. Her fifteenth.”

  “Well, happy birthday, young lady.” Cadger shook Zera’s hand. “My goodness, what a lovely dress, you look like quite the princess tonight.” Zera stifled a frown. She guessed she was taller than Cadger by at least four inches. She smiled back half-heartedly. His eyes darted to her swatch of green hair, causing her to blush. Still, she stood straight and maintained eye contact. She’d heard a few things about Cadger from her uncle, mostly comments about how his boss didn’t know a lot about science, but made a hundred times more than the other employees, the ones who did the “real” work.

  “I imagine you’re quite proud of your uncle today,” Cadger said. “Who knows, if you follow in the Green family’s footsteps, maybe one day you, too, will work for BioTech.”

  Zera’s stomach lurched. An urge to run, to claw her way out of the crowd, filled her. She suddenly realized why Tiffany made such a big deal of her being there. Of course, Mr. Cadger knows all about Green Seed Company, it was once the biggest seed company in the world. The images of several forebears, all renowned botanists, flashed through her mind. This is just an opportunity for them to look good by parading around with the poor orphaned niece. Yeah, sure, Mr. Cadger, she longed to say, I’m sure I’ll work for you one day. When hell freezes over!

  The urge to run subsided. Zera took a deep breath and put on her fakest smile. “As you know, Mr. Cadger, my grandmother, Guinevere Green, owned the Green Seed Company. She’s never approved of what is being done in genetic engineering — and neither do I.”

  Cadger’s eyes registered shock, but his flashing smile diminished only slightly. He turned to the staring reporter, “Oh, the youth of today, such kidders!”

  “But I’m not — ” Zera began.

  “Zera!” Tiffany said. “Mr. Cadger, I am so sorry. I guess since it’s her birthday, Zera thinks she can just say whatever rude thing comes into her mind!”

  Cadger’s smile tightened and he ran one hand over his close-cropped yellow hair. “Believe me, I understand. I have two teenagers of my own.” He turned to Zera, eyes focusing on her green hair just long enough to convey disapproval. “Young lady, progress is a good thing, always has been, always will be. In fact, it’s the only way. You’ll find that out one day.” He turned to the reporter, effectively cutting them off. “Now, as far as the future of biotechnology . . .”

  Tiffany took Zera’s arm and began leading her away from the group.

  “Wait a minute. Excuse me,” a middle-aged woman with poofy red hair moved in front of them; another reporter with an electronic notepad. She smiled at Zera. “I heard you say you didn’t ‘approve of what is being done in genetic engineering.’ I’m just curious, what do you mean by that, exactly?”

  Tiffany let go of Zera’s sleeve. Caught between Zera having a reporter’s undivided attention and being afraid of what Zera might say, she was momentarily unsure of what to do. Zera’s reaction was the opposite. Everything she had heard growing up about genetic engineering and plant life came flooding back. She took a deep breath. “My grandmother always said there are a lot of things that can go wrong with bioengineered c
rops. She explained to me how genetically-engineered crops can’t be contained in their fields. Pollen can get carried away by wind, bees, and other insects, causing the plants to reproduce with wild plants or non-GM crops. This forever changes the wild plants’ or non-GMO crops’ DNA — DNA that’s taken millions of years to evolve. She’s always said that it’s a tragedy to our food supply waiting to happen.”

  “And your grandmother, she’s . . .”

  “Guinevere Green, of Green Seed Company.”

  “Well. We’ve certainly all heard of Green Seed Company. Interesting,” said the reporter. She moved closer to Zera. “I’ve researched this topic. Biotech Multinational’s literature says they’ve taken steps to ensure such events, bioengineered plants escaping into the wild for example, won’t happen. That they’ve spent millions in failsafe procedures.”

  “Failsafe is impossible.”

  Tiffany went into red alert. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting her body between Zera and the reporter. “I hope you’re not thinking of quoting a fourteen year old without permission. Everything she just said is off the record.” She grabbed Zera’s arm and this time did not stop dragging her away until they were a good distance from the crowd.

  “Fifteen!” said Zera. “Today’s my birthday, remember?”

  “We’d better find a seat,” Tiffany whispered to Theodore when she found him. “But you’re sitting next to Zera, I’ve had enough of that brat for one day.”

  The Toad gave Zera a look she knew well, raised eyebrows, wrinkled forehead. His expression clearly asked, “What did you do now?”

  As they sat waiting, Zera felt satisfaction about speaking up, rude or not. It surprised her that she’d had the courage. Nonny would be proud. Her satisfaction was a little undercut, however, by fear of Tiffany’s revenge. Zera didn’t feel quite so certain now that Tiffany would let her open her grandmother’s gifts when they got home.

  On the stage at the front of the room, Bob Cadger’s secretary introduced Chet Wrangler, the CEO of All-American Burger Depot. A giant of a man in a tan suit, Stetson cowboy hat, and faux alligator boots, stomped up to the podium. His long, thick mustache and doughy features reminded Zera of a walrus, yet his massiveness, his tree trunk body and legs, brought to her mind the image of a mighty oak.