Treading Water by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

was.” Maggie laughs. “She’ll probably make him try one of those kale shakes she keeps trying to give me.”
    â€œSage might actually like that,” I say. “But I have the feeling that Zoe is just trying to get his attention.”
    â€œThat’s Zoe,” Maggie says.
    We look at each other in silence for what seems like forever. I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m still not sure what I ought to be sorry for.
    â€œSo,” Maggie begins, “Zoe and Gran think I might have overreacted to what you said about wanting to be in high school. I guess they’re right.”
    â€œYou realize we’ll be in high school
together,
right?” I say.
    â€œYeah, but high school is going to be hard. At least it will be for me,” Maggie says. “I’m not in any hurry to get there.”
    â€œThey have after-school help there, just like at our school. I know, because Sage stayed after
a lot
for Spanish,” I say. “And you know I’ll help you when I can.”
    Maggie smiles. “Okay, but I’m still not going to weasel my way into that Outdoor Club with you. Let’s not rush things, okay?”
    I’m just going to have to work on getting into the Outdoor Club myself. Oh well. At least Maggie and I have made up. I feel lighter. And then, I decide to tell her what I said to the Photography Club students. Just to clear the air.
    â€œOne more thing, I might have told the Photography Club kids that we’re thinking about moving the Environmental Club meetings to the high school,” I say, as fast as I can.
    â€œYou
might
have told them?” she asks.
    â€œI did tell them.”
    Maggie doesn’t say anything. At first. Then, “What?! Why? I can’t believe it.” Maggie is angrier than I’ve ever seen her. “You’re not in charge of everything, you know. It’s not your decision.”
    Before I can answer she storms away. Again.
    Sage is beside me. “What was that about?”
    â€œI might’ve messed up,” I say quietly. Sage pats me on the shoulder. I swallow hard. We go find Dr. Mac.
    â€œYou’re here,” Sunita says, and waves us back to the recovery room, where Dr. Mac is working on a shiny-coated silvery black cat. I can tell by the way she’s handling it that the cat is sedated so it doesn’t feel any pain.
    Sage whistles. “Good lookin’ cat.”
    â€œHi, Sage, Brenna,” Dr. Mac says. “Yes, he is. His owners named him Seal. Looks appropriate, don’t you think?” Dr. Mac finishes wrapping a bandage around the cat’s left hind leg. “However, this little guy seems much more interested in the road than in the water. This is the second time in three years that I’ve had to set a broken bone. He likes to race cars. Ever heard of a cat like that?”
    â€œNo,” I say, “though David’s cat likes to play fetch. Need any help?”
    â€œI’m good. I’ll be with you two in just a moment.” Dr. Mac finishes by giving the cat a shot and putting him into one of the high cages. She scrunches his blanket up beneath his head. Lots of cats like to rest like that. Seal closes his eyes.
    Dr. Mac removes her gloves and washes her hands.
    â€œI’ve given your mom all the care info I have. I trust that your family knows a lot more about taking care of ducks than I do. So I know they’re in good hands.”
    I put the crate on the stainless steel table and open the door.
    â€œAll set,” I say.
    Dr. Mac picks up two ducklings and motions Sage to pick up the third. The ducklings look so small in the crate. Their bodies are nothing but dandelion-yellow fluff with marigold-yellow bills and webbed feet. Their feet almost look too big for their little bodies. They stumble over one another, perhaps looking for the heat lamp. They are peeping up a storm, even the one we worried was too quiet before. I close the crate