Treading Water by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

door when all three are inside.
    â€œHere is a bag of the food I’ve been giving them. It’s from Ambler Feed, if you want to get more. Or, of course, taper and mix in if you’re going to change their feed.” Dr. Mac hands the bag to Sage.
    â€œDucks are pretty resilient to feed changes,” Sage says. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, whichever way we go.”
    Sage takes the crate with him. Sunita waves good-bye.
    In the parking lot, I can hear the hard
slap, slap, slap
of Maggie’s basketball as she dribbles. Even though I can’t see her from this spot, I can tell by the sound that she isn’t taking any shots at the basket. Just dribbling.
Slap, slap, slap.

Chapter Nine
    M om and Jayvee are in the critter barn when we pull up. They already have the heat lamp on and a bowl of feed set up in the stock tank. Sage and I set the ducklings onto the wood shavings, and Mom slips the waterer in. They drink right away. Dip, lift, swallow.
    â€œI love ducks!” Jayvee says. “I love their cute mouths.”
    â€œBills, sweetie,” Mom says. “They have bills.”
    Jayvee is right—those bills are adorable. I get my camera out of Sage’s car. I might as well get some shots of them on their first day with us. As I walk back into the critter barn, everyone else is coming out.
    â€œCan you take over the evening feed and clean, Brenna?” Mom asks. “I have to get your brother to his school’s open house. Dad is meeting us there. And Sage has plans. You okay with all this?” Mom spreads her arms toward the open barn door.
    â€œGot it. No problem,” I say. Mom pats my shoulder.
    â€œYou’re a sweetie,” she says. Then she leans in close and whispers, “We’ll probably take Jayvee out for ice cream after. So we might be a little late.”
    Poe jumps on my shoulder as soon as I walk back in.
    â€œHow you doing, boy?” He nibbles at my ear, and I know he is just fine. But then again, I’ve been ignoring him a bit lately. Poor fella. I really should spend more time with him. Soon.
    Poe stays on my shoulder as I get down to business, refilling bunny hayracks and checking water bottles. I clean droppings out and cuddle each bunny. They eye Poe, but none of them tries to jump out of my arms.
    I feed three orphaned turkey chicks. I move around the barn and check on the snapping turtle, very carefully. I add some greens to his box and move on.
    The ducklings are lying down cuddled up beside one another. They are inches away from their waterer. I bet ducks always like to be near water. They aren’t peeping at all. Are they okay? I don’t think I’ve ever heard them completely quiet. I bend down a little to see them better— Poe adjusts his balance on my shoulder. The heat lamp’s glow shows me that they are all fine, closed eyes, all asleep. I keep the flash off to let them doze and snap a picture of them. This was probably a tough day for them, too. Changes are always hard for animals. And for people.
    Maybe that’s what Maggie and Zoe are worried about. Changes. But we’re not changing schools, yet. We all still do Vet Volunteers together. I just think we can do some new things with some new, older people, too.
    I place Poe back on his perch. I make one last check of the cages and containers. This barn is getting overcrowded. It’s too bad that most people have no idea how many innocent animals are abandoned. I wish I could think of something to make my parents’ job easier. I wish I could think of more than just posters and presentations to help.
    I leave Poe in the barn and go outside to check the fox enclosure. This is usually a busy playtime for them. From my regular spot, I can’t see any of them. They must all be inside the den. I turn toward the house when I catch a flash of copper out of the corner of my eye. I creep toward the fox enclosure.
    Oh no! A fox kit is squirming his