Manatee Blues by Laurie Halse Anderson

glides across the tank, her flippers waving back and forth. The little fingernails on the ends of her flippers look like elephant toenails. Dr. Mac says that fifty million years ago, manatees lived on land. Manatees and elephants. Now both are endangered.
    A burst of laughter comes from the lobby. Obviously Gretchen hasn’t given them the news yet.
    “Brenna?” Dr. Mac calls as she jogs up the stairs. “There you are. You’ve got to come downstairs!”
    “No, thanks,” I answer. “I’d rather stay here as long as I can. I’m not in the mood for a party.”
    “You will be in a minute.” She crosses the room, takes my hands, and pulls me up to my feet. “I promise, you’ll want to see this.”
    The crowd downstairs has grown bigger. In fact, it’s twice as big as it was when I left. There are three photographers with enormous cameras hung around their necks, chowing down on the last of the corn chips. The Jimmy Buffet music is playing louder, and everyone looks relaxed, almost happy.
    “Where did all of these people come from?” I ask Dr. Mac.
    She puts her finger to her lips, her eyes sparkling. Something is up.
    Gretchen turns off the music and blows into a microphone. Her eyes are red. It looks like she’s been crying.
    “Excuse me,” she says. “Can I have your attention, please? Everyone? I have a few things to say.”
    Dr. Mac leads me to the front of the crowd. Maggie and Zoe squeeze past the crowd to join us.
    “Do you guys know what’s going on?” I ask.
    Maggie opens her mouth, but Zoe covers it with her hand. “You promised,” she warns her cousin. “You’ll find out in a minute,” Zoe tells me.
    This is getting weirder and weirder.
    Gretchen takes a deep breath as the crowd quiets. “Thank you,” she says. “What a night. I came here with a speech all written in my head. I was going to tell you what an amazing place this is …”
    Everyone claps.
    Gretchen smiles. “But you already know that. You also know this center has one of the best staffs in the world, dedicated people who have devoted their lives to saving our wildlife. And I’ve had the pleasure this week of spending time with the next generation of wildlife lovers. The future is in good hands.”
    Maggie, Zoe, and I all turn bright red as everyone stares at us and applauds.
    Gretchen waits for quiet again.
    “I was going to come up here tonight to tell you that the Gold Coast Rescue Center was closing.” She holds up her hands as some people gasp in surprise. “We weren’t kidding when we said we needed your donations. In fact, I spent the day making plans to transfer our animals.”
    She stops, too choked up to speak. She clears her throat.
    “But the rescue center was just rescued! I’d like to introduce my new best friend, Ronnie Masters, of the Bay City Stingers baseball team. Ronnie?”
    No! It can’t be! No way!
    Ronnie Masters works his way up to the microphone. Following him is Stu, the public relations man, and a few of Ronnie’s grinning teammates carrying small children. The photographers abandon the corn chip bowl and start snapping pictures.
    Ronnie takes the mike. “Thanks, Gretchen. I’ll make this short. I’m not much for speeches. I’d been looking for a good charity to support since I came down here a few months ago. Someone,” he winks at me, “suggested this might be a good place.”
    Maggie elbows me in the ribs.
Is this really happening?
    “The Stingers have agreed to donate five thousand dollars to the center every time I hit a home run,” Ronnie continues. “I’m throwing in five thousand of my own for each run I hit. So far this season, I’ve hit forty-five, so I guess we owe you four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
    WOW!
    Tears stream down Gretchen’s cheeks. Carlos is crying, too. The crowd explodes into shouts, whistles, and applause. I stare at Maggie and Zoe. “What did he say?” I stammer. “Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars? How can he give so much