I saw his gray T-shirt up ahead. It was the same shirt I had pulled on in the school bathroom after the final bell rang. It said Santa Ana Zoo on the back, above a picture of a monkey. Our small zoo was known for its abundance of monkeys (“Fifty monkeys at all times!”). That’s about all it was known for, and I wasn’t even sure how well known it was for that.
“Seth!” I called, running through the gate and tripping over a rise in the cement. I stumbled, but steadied myself.
Seth turned around. His black hair stood extra tall today, and I wondered how his hair had more volume than mine. I’d have to ask for tips.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m not late,” I said. Out of breath.
“Well, later than normal.”
“There was an accident on the 5.”
“Why would you ever go on the 5 on purpose?” He smiled at me, his nearly black eyes lighting up. Seth had the biggest smile and it brightened his entire face.
“Did I miss all the good assignments?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, I haven’t checked in yet.”
Seth Nguyen and I had been working at the zoo together for the last six months. Seth went to private school, so I pretty much only saw him here. We had fallen into a comfortable routine over time, which made work fun.
Seth and I reached the report station, where our supervisor, Carol, held a clipboard and looked overwhelmed, as usual. “I’m glad you made it. I thought we were going to be short today,” she greeted us.
“We’re here,” Seth said.
“I need you two at the amphitheater this afternoon to help set up for the animal show. You don’t have a lot of time, so please hurry.”
“Do you think she expects us to run?” Seth asked as we walked away. “I don’t get paid enough to run.”
I laughed. “Neither do I.”
We walked past the waterfall in the rain-forest exhibit. A harried-looking mom was trying to keep her three kids from taunting the howler monkeys.
“By the way, I’m mad at you,” I said.
Seth looked back at me, tilted his head, and studied my face. “This is what Maddie being mad looks like? Huh. What did I do to earn your normal expression?”
“This is not my normal expression. This is my mad one.”
“Noted. My crime?”
“I texted you, and apparently you’re too good to text me back.” I didn’t often text Seth, and when I did, it was normally a zoo question, but he usually texted back right away.
“Ah. Yes. I’m grounded, so I did not receive that text. My mom has my phone. Maybe I should tell my mom to start answering my texts for me to avoid friend-rage.”
“Yes. Will you?”
He smiled.
“What are you grounded for?” I asked as we rounded the corner, passing the exploration outpost.
“Let’s just say golfing at midnight is apparently frowned upon.”
My mouth dropped open.
“I know. Why would anyone disapprove of this activity, right? I wouldn’t have gotten caught if not for the sprinklers. Who knew I should’ve looked up the sprinkler schedule for the golf course?”
“You broke into the golf course in the middle of the night?”
“I needed a nighttime golf scene for a movie I’m making. The golf course closes at six! Before the sun is even down.”
I shook my head. “You’re crazy. Your mom should’ve taken away your video camera, not your phone.”
He laughed. “She took both. Oh, look, here’s our ride.” He pointed to the golf cart zipping past us, then called out to the groundskeeper. “Stan! Can we get a ride to the small amphitheater?”
The brake lights on the cart flashed and Seth’s smile widened.
“We are literally almost there,” I pointed out.
“And we will be almost there even faster in the back of Stan’s cart.” Seth hopped onto the bed of the cart and I climbed up next to him.
Stan wore a stained Santa Ana Zoo cap and was probably five years past retirement age. His skin was leathered from so much time in the sun and he always had the radio in his golf cart playing oldies.
“I can’t believe Stan gives you rides. The only thing he’s ever done for me was drive fast through a puddle of water as I was walking by,” I whispered. “I think he did it on purpose.”
Seth chuckled. “Stan would never do that. Would you, Stan?” he called out over the sounds of the Beach Boys.
Stan answered without knowing what we were talking about. “No.”
Seth nudged me with his elbow. “See.”
“So what is the movie you’re making this time called?” I asked as we bumped along the road. “Night Golf?”
“How did you know?”
“Really?”
He smiled and scratched the back of his neck. “No. Not really. It has no title yet.”
Stan took the scenic route, driving past the anteater in her cage. I stretched up to see if I could spot her pacing. Her name was Heeboo, and she had recently become a mom. She normally walked the cage with her baby clinging to her back and it was the cutest thing in the world.
“Heeboo’s hiding from you,” Seth whispered.
“She seems to be more private now, with the baby. But she still loves me.”
He shook his head. “How can the anteater be someone’s favorite? They’re so odd looking.”
I gasped. “She’s beautiful.”
He laughed as Stan headed down Monkey Row before he doubled back and stopped in front of the amphitheater.
“I think that took us longer than if we’d walked,” I said, sliding to the ground.
“But it was twice as fun.” Seth jumped down, then gave Stan a high five.
One of the zookeepers was onstage setting up, and Seth and I got to work, straightening out rows of benches for the audience.
I took in our surroundings—the big trees that created a canopy over the top of us, the animal noises providing the soundtrack. It may have been a small zoo (well, aside from the fifty monkeys!) but everything about it made me happy. I looked back at Seth. Everything.
When the animal show ended, we headed back toward Carol for our next assignment.
“Where is Stan when we need him? Now we have to walk like suckers,” Seth said as we made our way up the incline.
“Walking regularly improves mood, balance, and coordination,” I said, then just as quickly wished I hadn’t. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It was informative.” There was a smile in his voice.
“Sometimes random facts just pop into my head.”
“Sometimes random movie lines just pop into my head. I understand the need to share them.”
I laughed.
An elderly woman wearing a sweat suit approached us.
Before she opened her mouth, Seth said, “Straight ahead and to the left.”
“What?” she asked.
“Bathroom,” I filled in for him.
“Oh. No, I was hoping you could take a picture of me and my granddaughters by the ocelot?” She hitched her thumb over her shoulder toward the cage where the small leopard-type creature slept in a patch of sunlight. She held out a bigger camera than I’d ever seen before in my life. “You’re good with technology, right?” she asked Seth.
“Um … ” Seth caught the camera as she practically dropped it into his hands and walked toward the cage. “Because I’m Asian?” he whispered to me.
“That or she’s heard you’re an amazing filmmaker,” I said with a smile back.
“Oh yeah. You’re probably right. I forgot how far-reaching my reputation is.”
The lady and two pig-tailed girls stood by the fence, and Seth lifted the camera. “You look amazing,” Seth said, looking at the tiny screen.
“Thank you,” the woman responded.
“Oh, I was talking to the ocelot.”
I giggled as Seth snapped a picture and handed the lady back her camera.
We continued on, and Seth asked, “So, why were you texting me in the first place?”
“Oh, right. I was going to invite you to a party I’m throwing for my birthday tomorrow.” I shrugged. “But you’re grounded, so I guess you don’t get to come.” I didn’t want my voice to betray the slight disappointment I felt.
“Another reason to hate my parents.”
“It’s yourself you should hate, Seth, for your poor choices.”
He laughed. “Don’t repeat that to my parents or they’ll tell me to marry you.”
I snorted.
“Tomorrow is your birthday, huh? How old are you going to be?” Seth asked as we reached Carol. Thankfully she was on the phone so we had a minute to ourselves.
“Eighteen,” I replied.
He gave a low whistle. “All grown up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. What are you, a whole two months older than me?”
“It makes a difference.” He grinned, then added, more seriously, “Sorry I can’t come. Thanks for inviting me, anyway.”
“How long is your grounding sentence?”
“Not sure. A week. Maybe less if I do something nice for my mom.”
“Is that how it works?”
“Usually.”
“Well, go you!” I said, and immediately regretted it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that so loud.”
He laughed. “I never pinned you for a cheerleader.”
“I should’ve added that to my list of extracurriculars. Who knew I was so good at it?”
“You can be my cheerleader any day, Maddie.”
We both paused, looked at each other, then laughed.
Through his laugh Seth said, “That came out weird.”
“No worries.” I knew Seth didn’t think of me as more than a friend, which was exactly how I needed it to be. School, and college, were the most important things in my life at the moment. Nothing—I looked at Seth—or no one would change that.