Under a spray of moonbeams Chloe lay stretched out across her window seat. She'd just begun to polish her speech when she heard a faint mewing. "Deaf?" she called, looking up. Deaf Leopard was in his usual spot on the bed, a camouflaged ball of fur against her giant stuffed panda. Chloe heard the sound again.
She set her notebook down and headed for the door. Outside on the landing the noise was louder, more distinct, like the whimpering of a wounded animal. A sound she recognized from the shelter.
Padding down the stairs, following the noise, she stopped in front of her grandmother's room at the end of the hall. When she peered in through the cracked door, Chloe found Gran sitting on the edge of her bed, still fully clothed. The antique clock on her bureau chimed eleven.
"Gran?" Chloe pushed open the door.
Her grandmother gazed up at her with unseeing eyes. Eyes brimmed with tears.
"What is it, Gran? What's wrong?" Chloe sat next to her and took her hands.
"Chloe?" Her grandmother inhaled a shallow, quivery breath. "I can't remember . . ." She looked at Chloe with panic-stricken eyes.
"What Gran? What can't you remember?" Chloe asked. She wiped a tear from her grandmother's cheek.
"My nightgown. Where is my nightgown?"
Chloe said, "Right here. Next to you." She reached around to pull the flannel gown into her grandmother's lap.
"I can't remember . . ." The gown untouched, Chloe's grandmother reached up to finger a button on her dress.
It took Chloe only a moment to realize what Gran had forgotten. "These little bitty buttons they sew on everything today are so irritating, aren't they? I swear, I can't work them through the holes myself." She removed her grandmother's dress and undergarments, and then slipped the nightgown over Gran's head. The whole time, her grandmother stared ahead into the darkness, mewling a little with each exhale of breath.
Chloe pulled back the covers and eased her grandmother into bed. She kissed her cheek and murmured, "I love you, Gran. Sleep well. And don't worry, I'll be here in the morning to help you get dressed."
At the door, Chloe heard her grandmother whisper urgently, "Mishka, take the two-twenty to Lausanne. Bring nothing. Tell no one. We will have your papers when you arrive. Carry a rose, Mishka. A single red rose so that we will know you. Sub rosa. Remember, sub rosa."
Chloe blew her grandmother a kiss and pulled the door closed behind her.
Chloe feathered her hair around her shoulders, adjusted her beret, and stood up straight. Shoulders squared, she faced the mirror. "Remember, you have the right to refuse." She cleared her throat and started again. "You have an obligation to refuse. Put an end to senseless animal slaughter. There are so many alternative ways to study anatomy—computer simulations, robotics, in vitro cultures." Chloe moaned. Too technical. You have to appeal to their emotions.
She set her shoulders again. "Consider, when you slice through the heart of a pig, it used to be alive. It might've been an adorable piglet, like Olivia in the children's books. It might've squealed for its mother when it was caught and taken away to be killed and gutted, just so you could see what real organs look like. Think of the nightmares you'll have when you cut open that little piglet. When you remove its eyeballs. You," she pointed. "who choose to dissect animals in class because you won't refuse. You are condoning the slaughter of innocent beasts who deserve to live out their lives the same way we do."
Chloe wrenched down her finger that was shaking uncontrollably out of anger. "Oh, God, please don't let me get carried away." She inhaled deeply to calm herself. I wish Muriel was doing this, she thought. If there's one fear she really does have it's public speaking. She goes into shell shock whenever she gets on stage. Chloe sighed. The doorbell rang, jolting her back to reality, and she hustled to gather her books.
At the bottom of the stairs Chloe heard someone puttering around in the kitchen, so she took a quick detour. Gran stood at the stove. There was a wooden spoon in one of her hands, swirling a glop of smoking oatmeal, while the other hand propped open a dog-eared paperback on the counter. Earlier, Chloe had risen to make sure her grandmother was up and dressed.
Chloe turned off the burner under the oatmeal. "Big day, Gran." She kissed her on the cheek. "Gotta save some beasties from going under the knife."
Gran glanced up and nodded. "Yes, of course," she said. "The dagger must be buried with the corpse. Find the body and you'll find the murder weapon." She returned immediately to her novel.
Chloe smiled meekly. The bell sounded again and she scampered. It was a crisp October day, the kind of morning that made the world smell fresh and free. Chloe filed it in her memory bank under E for exhilarating. Life is glorious, she thought, smiling at Brett.
He took her books, then laughed. "Let's see your shirt."
She held open her jacket.
"That's great. Pigs Have Hearts, Too."
"I like it." Chloe beamed.
"I like you." He smiled and Chloe melted.
Her speech had its intended effect on the students at Aspen Grove Middle School. She knew it when most of the girls at the assembly began to weep. Only once did she stray from her index cards, when she got to the part about making a choice. As if there was any choice other than refusing to carve up animals. Muriel steered her back with a gesture from the front row to stay cool.
"Chloe, you were magnificent!" Muriel rushed up to her afterwards. "You really made people examine their consciences."
"Do you think so?" Chloe exhaled a long breath. "Thanks. I was so nervous."
"You? I can't even imagine it." She hugged her.
"Did you see Brett? What was his reaction?" Chloe peered over Muriel's shoulder to search the auditorium.
"Who knows?" She shrugged. "You touched the people who care. The ones who really matter."
Chloe spotted him, racing up the aisle toward the exit as fast as his legs could carry him. "Brett!" she called, but he didn't acknowledge before disappearing out the open double doors.
She was disappointed at first. By third period she was worried, and by lunchtime livid.
"Why didn't he come on stage and tell me I was good? I was good, wasn't I, Muriel? I mean, I didn't embarrass him or anything? Why would he leave without even saying 'way to go' or 'heck of a speech'? Whatever it is jocks say."
"You were fantastic," Muriel replied. "Forget about him. If it bothers him that you're outspoken about your beliefs, then he's just what we always suspected—a beef-for-brains."
"Don't, Muriel." Chloe turned on her friend. "I don't know what to think. I'm so—"
"Good speech, Chloe," a group of Brett's friends passed by congratulating her. She smiled halfheartedly, waving her thanks.
"I didn't think it was good," Brett's familiar voice rang in her ears.
Chloe's chin hit the table. "What did you say?"
He stood before her, impassive. Suddenly his face broke into a smile and he sauntered around behind the table. "I thought it was awesome."
Before Chloe could utter a word, Brett thrust a red rose at her. "Here, I got you this. It isn't much, but it's all the money I had." He leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Don't tell the coach where I went during practice. It took me, like, an hour to find a flower shop, then I had to sneak back in so I wouldn't get caught. I wanted to run up after your speech and kiss you right there." Then he kissed her, right there in the cafeteria with everyone watching, and trying to eat.
"Have lunch with me," he said, his hands locked around her waist.
Even though Chloe was dazzled, she wasn't blinded to her responsibility. "I can't, Brett. The ARC table. I can't just leave."
"Muriel can handle it, can't you?" He cocked his head over Chloe's shoulder at Muriel.
Muriel scowled.
"Come on. It's Chloe's big day. She should be among her fans. Her admiring fans, like me."
Chloe looked at Muriel, and felt her friend's contempt. Chloe was torn. Behind the glower, she recognized in Muriel's eyes the plea to stay and share the glory with her. Then Brett pulled Chloe closer and smiled down on her.
That mesmerizing smile. Chloe turned to her friend. "Just for today, Mur. It's only an anti-vivisection pamphlet and most people are just taking them on their way in. All you have to do is answer their questions." She whiffed at her rose, averting her eyes from Muriel's laser-like glare.
"No problem," Muriel said in a voice that splintered Chloe's spine. "It's only anti-vivisection. Go ahead. Your public awaits."
"Muriel—"
"You're going to have to buy my lunch, Chloe," Brett said, pulling her away. "Unless you're willing to share this with me." He brushed the rose petals and smacked his lips.
Chloe pressed the flower to her chest. "Get back, Jack. Not even a starving vegetarian would eat her first rose."