Mama didn’t see much use for television, but Grandma said if she couldn’t watch shows like What Your Shoes Say About You and Celebrity Slips, life wasn’t worth living. So the only television in the Carters’ house was in Grandma’s bedroom.
In the time it took to get through the commercials, the Carter family plus Big Bob and Jorge were gathered around Grandma’s small set.
Grandma whispered to Keisha as she came in, “Go get the Sunset Glow lipstick from my makeup bag. I don’t have my face on!”
Before she left for the bathroom, Keisha noticed that Grandma had covered her swollen foot with her cashmere sweater.
As soon as Racket saw Keisha, he began whining and straining to get out of Razi’s arms.
“Keisha, sit with the puppy on the floor,” Mama said. “You can see better from there, anyway.”
Racket jumped up on Keisha, giving her a thorough face wash before he stretched out on her lap and sighed. He seemed happy to be found.
The commercials ended, and a dark-haired woman with a ponytail looked into the camera with a serious expression. “Coming up next … will this deer survive? Our Live at Five Action Team received an e-mail this morning about a young deer in peril right here in one of our city parks. Our exclusive footage … after these messages.”
“Well, I guess they found it,” Daddy said as a toothpaste tube played the keys of a piano that turned into some very white teeth. “I wonder if the e-mail came from Mr. Gorman’s phone. Razi did send the photo to his whole list.”
“They may have found it, but that doesn’t mean they caught it.” Big Bob settled himself at Grandma’s side on the bed. “That’s the tricky part. Speaking of tricky parts … Alice, what do I hear about my mother’s—”
“Shhh,” Grandma said. “She’s back.”
All eyes returned to the television.
“Mindy Patel here, your Live at Five Action Team correspondent. Earlier today, our news bureau’s information center was alerted to the plight of a young deer that went for a nibble and got more than he bargained for.”
The photo that Razi, Keisha, Daddy and the Z-Team had seen on Mr. Gorman’s camera phone flashed up on the screen.
“So we came down to the park to sniff out the story. Here’s what we know. This pumpkin is stuck fast and the little deer can’t drink or eat. How could this happen? Let’s go to the neighbors who alerted us.”
Two people, a lady and Mr. Gorman, were escorted in front of the camera. Mindy Patel took a step toward them and continued speaking.
“Ms. Dunwoody was the first to spot the deer. In your own words, will you tell us what happened?”
“I was getting ready for work when I saw this poor, poor deer with its head stuck in the little pumpkin I fill with sunflower seeds for the birds.”
“And then …”
“It’s an ‘and then’ story!” Razi shouted. Razi loved “and then” stories.
“Well, I looked up ‘wildlife’ in the phone book and I found the number for Carters’ Urban Rescue. And I spoke to a girl who said she’d tell her father. That was it. I had to rush to get the bus.”
“A little girl working for a wildlife rescue operation?” Mindy Patel looked at the camera with a quizzical face. “That sounds dangerous to—”
“I met those young people,” Mr. Gorman interrupted Mindy Patel. “They were with their father. It was all perfectly safe. The little one sent you that photograph. Though how he did it—”
By the look on Mindy Patel’s face, Keisha could see she did not like to be interrupted. “So you’re saying you’re the one who reported this tragedy, Mr. Gorman.”
“Don’t go blaming me. It was the little guy. I just took the photo because, well, at the time it seemed kinda funny and I thought I’d send it to my grandbaby who’s in the hospital right now. Hey there, Tracyanne junior.”
Mr. Gorman waved to the camera until Mindy Patel caught him by the arm.
“A little guy sent the photo. Is this whole operation run by children?”
During Mindy Patel’s second thoughtful look at the camera, Grandma broke out with “Jeez Louis Vuitton. Stick to the story.”
“No, no,” Mr. Gorman was saying. “They were with their father when they—”
“What we do know,” Mindy Patel broke in, “is that they did not find the deer because only moments ago, our Live at Five Action Team took this footage.”
The television screen showed a blurry scene of leaves and trees, accompanied by the sound of snapping twigs. The lens zoomed in, and viewers got a fleeting glimpse of the floating pumpkin that was indeed stuck tight over the nose and mouth of a young deer.
After a few shaky seconds of the deer in distress, a serious Mindy Patel’s face reappeared. “And I must say that I, for one, would rather see children running a lemonade stand than chasing after wild animals.”
“They weren’t chasing anything …,” Mr. Gorman said. “They were tracking with their—”
Mindy Patel walked a few steps away and was followed by the camera. “Earlier today, we were able to get our zoo director to comment on the situation. Mr. Vescolani, can this deer be saved?”
The view switched to Mr. Vescolani standing outside the polar bear pen at the zoo, his tie flapping in the breeze. “Well, obviously, catching deer with pumpkins stuck on their heads is a little outside our area of expertise. We’re a zoo. Frankly, if I were having this problem, I’d call my friends at Carters’ Urban Rescue.”
“Well, at least someone is talking some kind of sense,” Grandma said. Grandma always talked to the TV.
“Could this capture involve guns? Don’t you knock out wild animals with dart guns?”
“Dart guns are a dangerous business. About half the wild animals that size will die of complications when anesthetized. You have to get the amount just right. If it’s not enough, animals get overexcited and may injure themselves. If it’s too much—”
“Could this deer be dangerous to any of our citizens?” Mindy Patel asked Mr. Vescolani. “If he’s found and he gets overexcited?”
“He’s just a young buck with a pumpkin stuck tight because the handle is caught on his horn buds. I don’t see him presenting much danger to the public.”
This seemed to disappoint Mindy Patel. Maybe danger was better than safety when you were reporting the news.
The screen showed Mindy Patel again as she said, “Thank you, Mr. Vescolani. Our viewers can follow the story moment by moment on the blog at Live at Five’s Action Team news center Web site. Log on and record your comments on this most unusual event. From Huff Park, this is Mindy Patel, your Live at Five Action Team correspondent.”
As the camera pulled back from the scene at the park and the dramatic music played, Keisha could hear the office phone ringing downstairs. She wasn’t surprised. She even had an idea about who would be on the other end of the line.
Handing off a sleepy Racket to Razi, she ran downstairs to answer the phone.
“Carters’ Urban Rescue.”
“It’s time to put our damage-control plan into place,” Aaliyah said.
Daddy called Aaliyah the director of marketing for Carters’ Urban Rescue. When Aaliyah grew up, she wanted to be an agent who represented singers and athletes. Both of her parents were in marketing, so she talked a lot about visibility and public perceptions and targeted media efforts. Aaliyah never missed the news.
“Just remember that no publicity is bad publicity,” she continued. “It’s all in how you spin it.”
Keisha felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Jorge. “Can you tell me where the vegetable oil is?” he asked.
“In the kitchen, in the cupboard above the sink,” Keisha told him, holding her hand over the receiver so she didn’t interrupt Aaliyah.
A minute later, Jorge rushed past her and headed upstairs with the Carters’ jug of canola oil. He almost ran into Big Bob coming down the stairs. Aaliyah was still talking strategy.
Big Bob told Keisha, “As soon as Jorge delivers that vegetable oil, I’ve got to get him home. Your mom asked that you come back up when you’re done. She needs help with the patient.”
“Hellooooo,” Aaliyah said. She must have heard Big Bob. “Back to the strategy meeting. Maybe you should practice answering the phone with a deeper voice or something.”
All Keisha could manage was a wave to let Big Bob know she’d heard.
“And you need a script by the phone,” Aaliyah continued.
“How can you have a script when every call is different?” Keisha wanted to know.
“Ouch!” Grandma shouted so loud, Keisha heard it all the way down the stairs. “Just cut it off! That would be less painful.”
The next thing Keisha heard sounded like a dog in distress. Yowp!
There were some words from Daddy she couldn’t make out and then Razi crying out: “I didn’t step on his tail. He put it under my foot!”
Aaliyah kept talking about damage control. If Carters’ Urban Rescue had a Web presence, their blog could at least respond to the news center’s blog.
Keisha watched as Racket dashed down the stairs and into the living room. Razi came after. More skittering puppy. More Razi tears.
“Got it!” Daddy yelled.
“Count my toes,” Grandma insisted. “And get that ring away from me. I don’t ever want to see it again!”
“I can’t find him!” Razi shouted to everyone upstairs.
There was something about this not-Tallahassee day that was making Keisha feel more sassy than classy.
“Aaliyah, maybe you can go on the news center blog and make a post. I can’t worry about that now. Grandma’s in pain, Razi’s crying, the puppy’s lost again and we have forty-seven math problems due by tomorrow! Right now, I have to do damage control at 180 Horton Street!”