“Did ye now?” he asked, stopping just two feet away from me, fully invading my space.

  He smelled like animal poop and something sour.

  “We’re going to be working with Emma and Sam on a few…projects,” I continued, walking around Cap’n Bob and heading closer to the tiger cage. At that particular moment, the animal seemed less threatening than the man in front of us. “We were wondering if you could answer a few questions.”

  “I don’t see how I have a choice, now do I?” Cap’n Bob said. My back was to him, but I could hear the sneer in his voice. “The masters told me that if you came back around, I was to make myself available to you for whatever you needed.”

  “Wonderful,” I said, acting like I didn’t notice the disdain he was emulating. “So, how many tigers do you guys have on the property?”

  “Come with me,” was all he said in response.

  I looked over at Ollie and shrugged. We both began to follow the creepy caretaker. I followed the line he was drawing in the dirt with his bum leg and stayed over an arm’s-length away from any of the cages we passed.

  “We currently have twelve tigers on the grounds. Eight are adults. We have a shipment coming in next week that will add eleven more to that number,” Cap’n Bob said. “Most of ’em will be shipped back out to buyers within the week, though some will be deemed not worthy and might stay here until we can find someone to take them or we’ll have to take care of them.”

  “They’ll just live here for the rest of their lives?” I asked, feeling bad for the animals that would be stuck in tiny cages for their whole miserable existences.

  “No,” Cap’n Bob said, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. “I mean, they’ll be euthanized if they can’t be sold.”

  “They’ll be killed?”

  “What else are they gonna do with them?” Cap’n Bob asked me. “At least this way they can make some money selling the parts.”

  The animals were like stolen cars to them. It was disgusting.

  “Oh,” I said, being careful not to come off as excessively emotional over the animals since clearly, nobody else cared.

  As we walked down the aisle, there were tigers on every side of us. They all varied in size, but even the smallest one was huge.

  All of them seemed angry.

  Were we really going to be able to pull this off?

  “How do you clean the cages?” I asked Cap’n Bob.

  As horrendous as their dwellings were, at least they weren’t lying in their own filth. In fact, to his credit, it looked like the Cap’n did a pretty good job at taking care of them day to day.

  I mean, they all had water and after the bloody bunny massacre from the other day, we knew they were being fed. And their cages were clean.

  All of this surprised me, as I expected more…abuse?

  “Do the tigers just leave you alone because they know you?” Ollie asked him with his bad French-American accent. I didn’t bother stopping him in this case, because I doubted the man in front of us would be able to discern that his accent was mediocre at best.

  Cap’n Bob let out a bark of a laugh.

  “Are ye kidding? Those cats don’t give two flying monkeys whether they know me or not,” he said. “They would happily rip me apart if I got close enough.”

  Then, as if to illustrate his point, he took a step toward one of the cages. Before I could even process what was happening, the tiger lunged at him.

  “Morning, Ginger,” Cap’n Bob said without missing a beat.

  I looked over at Ollie, expecting him to continue his line of questioning but saw that he was frozen with fear.

  If he didn’t start snapping out of it, he wasn’t going to be able to pull off his part of all this.

  “Er, so how do you manage to get inside there without—in your words—being ripped apart?” I asked him.

  “We take ’em out,” Cap’n Bob said. “Let them hang tight for a few hours in one of these.”

  He pointed over to an even smaller cage, roughly the size of the tiger’s body. It was sitting on top of a large wooden pallet. Attached to the flat board was a metal pallet truck that allowed the board—and anything on it—to be moved around with ease.

  “All the cage doors open straight into the individual crates, so we don’t have to get too close to the animals when transporting them,” he said, showing us how it worked by sliding the crate door up into the air and then dropped it again like a guillotine.

  “And they just go in willingly?” Ollie asked, seeming to find his voice again.

  “For the most part,” Cap’n Bob answered. “But for those who are more…stubborn, we sometimes throw a rat or two into the back of the receiving cage to get them moving.”

  “Do you ever sedate them?” I asked as we started to walk back the way we came.

  Cap’n Bob kept his head down, but I saw him glance at me. “We can, and have. But I prefer not to drug ’em,” he said slowly. “Do you know how hard it is to move a five-hundred-pound passed-out tiger? Dang near impossible.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  We were back at our golf cart, and I felt satisfied that we had everything we needed.

  “Do you live on the grounds?” I asked Cap’n Bob. “So you can take care of the animals round the clock?”

  Then he said the most peculiar thing.

  “They don’t pay me enough to live here,” he said, a weird look on his face.

  “So, nobody’s watching the animals at night?” I asked, surprised.

  Cap’n Bob swept his hands around. “They’re not exactly going anywhere, are they?” he said.

  I cocked my head to the side.

  “Well, aren’t you worried what would happen if they broke out?” I asked him curiously. “They could really hurt someone.”

  Cap’n Bob gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher, then nodded his head. “Now I suppose that they could,” he said.

  Then he turned around and walked away.

  Entry Thirty-One

  There were so many things to do before the dinner party, that I was running on empty by the time Thursday night rolled around.

  “Yeah,” I said into my phone and rubbing at my eyes. “That’s right. Look, I really appreciate this. We wouldn’t be able to pull this off without you.”

  I paused while the person spoke, but I was fading so fast that all I wanted to do was wrap it up. This call was the last one I needed to make before everything would be in place for the heist.

  “Uh-huh. Yep. Okay, thanks again!” I said, trying to muster up one final burst of energy before passing out.

  When I finally hit the End button on my phone I collapsed back onto my bed and closed my eyes.

  I was already starting to drift off when I heard something at my door. The recognizable creaking it made when it was pushed open slightly.

  Creeeeaaak. Creak, creak.

  I didn’t want to open my eyes.

  So tired.

  But what if it was a burglar?

  Ha! I was too exhausted to even laugh out loud at the thought.

  “Frankie?” came a voice, breaking through my sleepy haze.

  “Mmmmm.”

  “Are you really asleep at…seven thirty?” Uncle Scotty asked. “Did you forget about movie night? I already made popcorn.”

  I sighed and opened my eyes.

  “No,” I said.

  We’d made plans earlier that week to watch that movie of his with Johnny Depp and that awful song. If I canceled now, Uncle Scotty might suspect something was wrong, and I really didn’t want him on my case now.

  “I’ll get up,” I said finally.

  “Great!” Uncle Scotty said, perking up. “Pizza’s on the way, too!”

  His glee over my response was obvious and I thought about how strange it was that someone who read people for a living would be so bad at hiding his own emotions.

  “Awesome,” I said, forcing myself to wake up. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  A short while later, we were downstairs in the living room with the movie rolling. Each of us had taken up an end of the couch, the pizza in between us—half pepperoni for Uncle Scotty and half chicken sausage, caramelized onions, and artichoke with a pesto sauce for me. The lights were low and the only sounds in the house were of us chewing and the beginning of a film Uncle Scotty swore was a classic.

  “You’ve been pretty busy lately,” Uncle Scotty said between bites. “Aren’t you supposed to be on winter break?”

  I took another bite and kept my eyes on the screen ahead.

  “Hey, you’re the one who insisted I go to that school,” I argued. “The whole volunteering thing was their idea. You can blame them for my spotty attendance here.”

  “But you can’t be spending all your time at The Farm. I know Kayla, and she wouldn’t work you that hard,” Uncle Scotty said slowly.

  I shrugged my shoulders, staying noncommittal about it.

  “So where have you been spending the rest of your time?” he asked like he wasn’t digging.

  “With Ollie,” I said, not wanting to lie but obviously unable to tell him the whole truth.

  “And how is Oliver doing?” Uncle Scotty asked. “I’m surprised he gave up the opportunity for popcorn and a movie.”

  “We’re both a little spread thin these days,” I said. “I think he just needed a night to rest.”

  I didn’t mention that I hadn’t invited him.

  Not because I didn’t want him there, but because I wanted him on his game for the heist. One of us had to be.

  “I’ve never known Oliver to rest a day in his life,” Uncle Scotty said, jokingly. “Is he finally sick of coming over here?”

  I laughed. “Not even a little bit,” I said. “He loves it over here. Probably more than he loves his own house. Though, I don’t know why.”

  “The grass is always greener,” Uncle Scotty said shrugging.

  “But it’s not,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Did you know he lives in a mansion?”

  Uncle Scotty looked surprised to learn this.

  “Oliver?” he asked, curiously.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Weird, huh?

  “It’s a little—well, I wouldn’t have guessed that, no,” Uncle Scotty said. “What do his parents do?”

  “That’s the interesting thing,” I said. “They don’t do anything. They won the lottery and moved into their house the same month. Ollie thinks it’s annoying because I guess their lives haven’t changed much since they got the money. Except for maybe the fact that they’re taking care of their extended family now too, and instead of being a landscaper for other rich families, his dad tends to his community garden and manages a dozen employees.”

  “Good for them,” Uncle Scotty said, nodding. “They’re being smart. Lotto money doesn’t last forever.”

  “Ollie thinks they’re being selfish by not spending all of it on designer clothes and his entertainment career.”

  “Oliver is a little dramatic sometimes,” Uncle Scotty pointed out.

  “Sometimes?” I asked, snorting.

  “I was trying to be judicious,” Uncle Scotty offered. “So, what does Oliver think of working at The Farm?”

  “He likes it,” I said, taking another bite of pizza. “But he thinks it’s ruining his personal style—all the cat and dog hair and stuff. He’s not so keen on picking up poop, either. Oh, and I guess he’s also a little afraid of most of the animals. So…maybe he doesn’t like it? I don’t know. We both like Kayla though.”

  “You do?” Uncle Scotty asked, taking his eyes off the screen for a second to look over at me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She’s nice. Like a Disney princess. You can tell she really cares about the animals. And she never sugarcoats things just because we’re kids. Treats us like we’re her equals. Not a lot of adults do that.”

  “Is that a hint for me?” Uncle Scotty asked.

  “No,” I said, chuckling. “You’re my uncle, so you’ve gotta be sort of parenty. Kayla’s…just a girl to us. Like the big sister who we can go to for advice.”

  “You’ve needed advice lately?” Uncle Scotty asked, sounding interested.

  “Not particularly,” I said. “I’m just saying, if I did need advice, she’s someone I feel like I could go to. You know, if I wanted that sort of thing.”

  I kept my focus on Johnny Depp even though I was no longer paying attention to the story. We stayed silent for a few seconds. Then Uncle Scotty cleared his throat.

  “You can always come to me for advice too, you know?” he said nonchalantly. “If you were looking for that sort of thing.”

  I tried to fight the smile but couldn’t.

  “I know, Uncle Scotty,” I said.

  “Like, for instance, if something had happened between you and your dad when you went to visit him, I would probably be in a unique position to understand what you’re going through. You know, since he’s my brother, and he’s done things to piss me off too. I’m just saying…I could be a person you go to, to talk about that stuff. I promise not to be too—what did you call it? Too parenty.”

  I chuckled hearing my generally serious uncle use a completely made-up word just to get on my level.

  It was sweet.

  And it reminded me how cool he’d been through this whole thing. Other parents would have freaked if their kid suddenly cut off their hair and dyed it bright white. Uncle Scotty might’ve made a few comments, but not once had he tried to pry or tell me I shouldn’t change my look.

  That was when I realized that my uncle wasn’t just someone I could go to for advice. He was someone I wanted to go to for advice. And I actually cared what he thought.

  Whoa.

  The realization shocked me to my core.

  “You’re right,” I told him, surprising him, too. “Wanna give it a shot?”

  I could see, even in the dark, that he was trying really hard not to smile. And this made me smile. Finally he shrugged like it wasn’t the big deal we both knew it was.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “When I went to visit Dad, he told me he wanted me to be a normal kid.” I said the words tentatively.

  Uncle Scotty paused a moment before saying, “Wow.” Then he took in a deep breath and let it out loudly. “That wasn’t what I was expecting, but okay. Um, and that made you feel—”

  It was a line straight from my therapist, but for some reason, it felt different coming from Uncle Scotty.

  “Mad,” I said quickly. “And maybe kind of…not good enough? Like, him saying he wanted me to be a normal kid, felt like he didn’t want me to be…me anymore. Does that make any sense?”

  Uncle Scotty was already nodding before I’d finished.

  “Absolutely,” he said and turned on the couch to face me. “You said you liked that Kayla didn’t sugarcoat stuff, right? So, can I be brutally honest with you?”

  Uh-oh. Maybe Uncle Scotty and I weren’t ready for this just yet.

  I swallowed.

  “Please,” I answered, though I was sort of dreading what he was about to say.

  “Frankie, you have never been, nor will you ever be normal,” he said bluntly.

  This might’ve been an insult to about ninety-nine percent of the population, but to me, it was a compliment. And my uncle knew that.

  “You might be able to fake it if you want to, but actually be a normal kid at your core? Yeah, not happening. Nor should it,” he added at the end.

  “Right?” I exclaimed, so happy to be talking to an adult who seemed to understand. “So why was he being such a jerk about it?”

  Uncle Scotty paused here as he chose his next words carefully.

  “Sometimes despite our best intentions, we, as human beings, aren’t the greatest communicators,” he started. “And as worldly as your dad is, he’s still human, and he makes mistakes. I think he simply chose the wrong words to express what he really meant.”

  “He just kept telling me I should be normal, and be like the other kids my age,” I said, frustrated.

  “And what you heard was, ’You need to change who you are. You need to be different,’ ” Uncle Scotty said.

  “Yeah,” I answered quietly. “And I like who I am.”

  “I like who you are too,” Uncle Scotty said. “Honestly, so does your dad. He’s just scared that you’ll follow in his footsteps instead of making your own way. I think that’s the kind of change he meant. He just didn’t know how to say it.”

  “I don’t want to change who I am for anyone,” I said quietly, feeling too tired to fight this battle right now.

  “And you shouldn’t,” he answered. “You change for you, because you want to become a better version of yourself. And as incredible a kid you are, there’s always room for improvement. As you get older, you’ll start to realize that you want to do better. Be better. Make your mark on this world count. And you’ll need to embrace change to do that. You can grow without losing yourself in the process.”

  I nodded because what he was saying made sense.

  “Aw, crap,” I said finally, dropping my hands down into my lap.

  “What?” he asked, looking worried. “Was that too parenty?”

  “No,” I said with a sigh. “It was perfect.”

  “And that makes you mad because…,” he asked, confused now.

  “Because now I have to apologize to Dad,” I said.

  Uncle Scotty smiled as I got up from the couch and walked toward the stairs tiredly.

  “Hey, Frankie?” he said, stopping me before I disappeared.

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t have to apologize right away,” he said with a smile. “Your dad can probably stand to stew a little bit. Might even be good for him.”

  I grinned back.

  “Now that’s good advice,” I said before heading upstairs to bed.

 

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