Ann Martin - Mary Anne And The Zoo Mystery

Anyway, I said hi to Jessi and signed hello to Matt. I also asked him how he was doing. He smiled a big ear-to-ear grin and answered me.

"Matt can't wait to talk to Mojo," Jessi translated.

Mojo, a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound female gorilla, was leaning on a rock near the front of her enclosure, idly munching on browse. Browse is a leafy plant that the zoos put in cages so the animals can eat but not gain weight. (Kind of like humans eating carrots for a snack instead of crackers.) I learned this from the information kiosk.

James was lying on his back in a corner, taking a nap in the afternoon sun. He was a huge silverback male, and weighed over four hundred pounds.

Matt and Jessi tried to position themselves in front of Mojo, so that the gorilla could easily see Matt’s signs. Matt caught Mojo's eye and signed hello.

Hello, Mojo answered casually.

Matt asked Mojo if the food she was eating was good.

Mojo signed good.

At that moment the small door in the back of the cage opened and Mr. Chester peered into the enclosure. He was holding two trays of food. Mojo instantly sat up.

I turned to Jessi. "I guess it’s feeding time."

Jessi nodded. "It looks like those guys are eating extremely large TV dinners."

Matt couldn't hear us but it didn't matter. All of his attention was focused on Mojo. He signed the question, Who let the emu out of her pen?

Mojo looked sideways at Mr. Chester and the big metal trays full of food, and didn't answer.

Matt asked the question again.

This time Mojo responded with the word for food.

Matt’s shoulders slumped. He turned to Jessi and signed, "It’s not working."

Jessi patted him on the shoulder and signed back, It's okay. She wants to eat. She looked at

me and said, "Maybe it's hard for Mojo to think when it’s her lunchtime."

Mr. Chester was just about to enter the cage when he spotted something behind us and frowned. He slid the metal door shut. Moments later he appeared around the side of the building, and shouted, "Hey, you boys, what are you doing?"

He was talking to Alan and Howie, of course. They were by the berry bushes. "Just standing here," Alan replied. "Why?"

Mr. Chester pointed at the twig full of berries Howie held in his hand. "It looked as if you were going to feed the gorillas some of those berries."

Howie looked at his hand guiltily and dropped the berries. "I didn't even know I'd picked this. I wasn't thinking. Honest."

Mr. Chester bent down and picked up the twig. "These would not be good for the gorillas," he said sternly. "I don't want to see you touching those bushes again. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Howie replied. "I won't."

Mr. Chester gestured for the boys to move onto the sidewalk. "And stay on the walkways, that’s what they're here for."

Alan and Howie took two giant steps forward. Once Mr. Chester was satisfied that they weren't going to return to the bushes, he

hurried back to the side of the building.

Mojo and James had seen their lunches coming and were upset when they didn't arrive. They were now pounding on the metal door.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" we heard Mr. Chester call. He slid the little metal door open and then unlocked the gate, slipping the two trays inside.

Mojo took her tray to a rock. We watched her daintily sift through the vegetables, sampling each one.

"Let’s get out of here," Alan murmured.

I didn't blame them for wanting to leave. Mr. Chester had sounded pretty harsh. If he had said those things to me, I probably would have cried.

"Look, why don't you two watch the bears," I said, "and I'll take the seals. And we'll all come back here to the emu pen a little later."

'Tine," the boys muttered.

Logan, who had been at the snack bar near the seal pool, saw me as I came around the bend and ambled over to see what I was up to.

"Popcorn?" He held his bag out to me.

"Thanks. Popcorn is a lot more appetizing than what they're eating," I said, pointing to the fish the keeper was tossing to the seals.

"How's it going with Howie and the jerk?" Logan asked, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Logan?" I stared down at the rail surrounding the seal pool. "I wish you wouldn't call Alan a jerk. He may act like one sometimes but it doesn't help when you provoke him."

Logan looked hurt. "He's not exactly Mr. Nice Guy to me."

"I know that. It’s just that things have become so tense between you two, it makes me feel awkward. This project should be fun — observing the animals and picking up behind-the-scenes information about a zoo. But instead of enjoying it, all I do is worry about what's going to happen when you two see each other."

Logan's face filled with concern. "Gee, Mary Anne, I didn't know you felt that way. I guess you're right. This competition thing has gone a little too far."

"A little?" I raised one eyebrow.

"All right, a lot too far."

"I mean, I'd like to win," I told him. "I could really use that extra credit. We all could. But I won't resent it if your team wins."

Logan put his left hand on his heart and held up his right hand. "You have my word that I won't be angry if your team wins either

— although it would be nice if my team won. But to show you I mean it, I promise from this moment forward to try to be nice to Alan."

I laughed. "Well, you don't have to go overboard. Knowing Alan, he'll think something's up. He'll probably say you're trying to kill us with kindness so you can do something tricky behind our backs."

Logan laughed and nodded. "You're right. He would think that."

"I have to admit I thought Alan was going to be a real goof-off on the project, but it's amazing how much it matters to him. Look at all of those great observations he made about the emu."

"Yeah." Logan cocked his head. "He did have more stuff than I've been able to get on the gorillas. I mean, it’s really incredible how detailed his stuff was."

Aroo! Aroo!

The biggest seal in the pool had clambered on top of one of the rocks and was barking at the keeper, a blond man in green work clothes and a yellow slicker. The keeper chuckled and said to the small crowd who had gathered to watch feeding time, "Sparky never lets me get away with anything."

The man dug in the pocket of his raincoat and produced one final fish. He tossed it high

in the air. Sparky dove off his rock and caught the fish midair, hitting the water with a tremendous splash.

The crowd's applause jarred something in my memory. Feeding time. That means it’s two o'clock. Mrs. Wofsey’s video presentation about Mojo and sign language is at two. Come on, Logan," I said, pulling him away from the seal pool. "We don't want to miss it."

Our route to the visitors' center took us past the primate area where I saw the two people in matching sweatsuits huddled together.

"Look," I hissed to Logan. "Those — those spies are here again." I'd told Logan about our mystery. "I wonder what they're up to."

"Let’s swing a little closer," he said. "Maybe we'll hear something."

Logan, who was holding my hand, suddenly swerved left and we nearly crashed directly into the back of the couple. Fortunately they were too wrapped up in what they were talking about to notice us.

"I'd say a gibbon costs at least eight-and-a-half thousand," the man was saying. "That is if the market is good."

"A macaque could be even higher," the woman replied. "And gibbons do make nice pets in their preteen years." Logan and I pulled away from the couple.

"They're talking about how much monkeys cost!" I gasped.

"Yeah, and selling them as pets," Logan whispered back. "This is too weird."

Wrapped in our thoughts about what we'd just heard, Logan and I walked the rest of the way to the visitors' center. When we reached it, the presentation had already begun.