5

Quincy

After I finished in the nursery, I headed over to the greenhouse. The rain seemed like it had stopped for good because the sky was filling up with blue and the sun was still out. It was beginning to get warm, the way it sometimes is in Pasadena in October. Already, the water on the walkways was evaporating and the bees were back at work, buzzing around flowers. A sprinkling of people wandered in and around. Birds chirped songs, and colorful butterflies fluttered, and I felt happy to live at the Wonderland with its trees every shade of green, a pond with a stone mermaid fountain resting inside, and rock-lined winding paths. Like me with my daydreams, it’s different. I know it’s called Doc Reindeer’s Exotic Plant Wonderland, but in my mind, I think of it as Zoe’s Wonderland too, with its flowers that smell like perfume—especially gardenias and honeysuckle. And except for the birds’ songs, it’s very quiet in the morning, but once darkness comes, its night sounds take over.

Five Things I Love About the Wonderland

1. Studying a green velvety caterpillar inching slowly across a tree branch or having ladybugs land on me, which is sure to bring good luck—at least that’s what Nana claims.
2. Staring at the lotus plants and lilies in the garden pond while the water ripples.
3. Watching cowardly lizards as they flee under rocks or logs as soon as a foot lands close by.
4. Spying a hawk landing at the pond’s edge, taking a few sips, then flapping away. Me gazing upward as it spreads its wings and soars.
5. And at night, with beams of moonlight shining, hearing what sounds like more than a hundred crickets.

Five Things That Gross Me Out in the Wonderland

1. All spiders (except daddy longlegs).
2. Big beetles.
3. Red ants.
4. Anything that stings or bites.
5. Feeding the Venus flytraps, pitcher plants, and other carnivorous stuff.

As I stepped inside the greenhouse, I inhaled the smell of its flowers and wet soil and moss. The screen door shut behind me. As usual, it was cool inside, and the glass was still wet from the rain.

I was staring up through the greenhouse’s glass roof when the door creaked open. It was Quincy—my one and only very best friend.

Quincy Hill and I have been best friends since kindergarten. He lives two blocks up the street, but unlike me, he doesn’t have a brother or sister, and last year his parents got a divorce and his dad moved away to San Francisco. We’ve always gone to the same school and we’re in the same grade, and this year, the first year of middle school, we’re mostly in the same classes. We’re exactly the same height and we both wear nerd glasses. His thick black frames take up most of his face. He’s the only person I never, ever feel shy around.

“Hey, Prancer,” he said, and grinned.

Because I know he’s not trying to be mean, he’s the only person I never get mad at for making reindeer jokes. All day yesterday, he called me Cupid.

“Hey, Quincy.”

“You almost done?” he asked.

“Not even. I just got started.”

“That’s okay. The movie doesn’t start till two.” He glanced at his watch. “We have lots of time.” His camera, as usual, was dangling from his neck.

Saturday movies with Quincy are one of my most favorite things. They’re better than red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing, rocky road ice cream—better than anything my wild imagination cooks up. When Quincy grows up, he plans to go to film school and become a director. He says he’ll hire me as a producer. Lately, at the end of movies, during the credits, I’ve started to picture my name there.

He hurried over to the terrarium that has the carnivorous plants. “Do you need me to feed them some grasshoppers or beetles?” Unlike me, Quincy enjoys that chore. But today, he was out of luck.

“My daddy already fed them this morning.”

“I’m going to take some pictures of them, okay?” he asked.

“Like I would say no. You’re my best friend, Quincy,” I replied. Right then, I stopped what I was doing. “Hey, am I just Zoe?” I asked him.

“Huh?”

“You know . . . nothing special . . . almost a nobody . . . a zero.”

“You, a zero? No way. You are Zoe G. Reindeer, future spectacular movie producer.”

That made me smile. “Yeah, or maybe I’ll be the Queen of the Wonderland, or both.”

He snapped a few more pictures and started yapping. “Did you know reindeer’s eyes change colors with the seasons? They change from golden green in the summer to blue in the winter. And they’re the only mammals that can see ultraviolet light. I read that online.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands. “More interesting facts about reindeer that don’t matter to most people, including me.” Quincy, who calls himself a master of trivia, knows entirely too much about all kinds of things, including reindeer. “You know I hate my name!”

“Once you’re eighteen, you can always change it, Zoe.”

“I know this.”

“But if I were you, I wouldn’t. Wish my last name was Reindeer—that way, when I become a director, no one would ever forget my name. Quincy Reindeer. The name by itself would make me famous.”

“You can have it. We’ll trade names. I’ll take your last name. Zoe Hill. It sounds normal, huh?”

He scrunched up his face. “Ahh . . . who wants a normal name?”

“Me,” I replied.