Amanda Noble, #Zoolife: Amanda Noble, #1

By Lesa Boutin

Amanda's life is a zoo. For real. Her family owns the Noble's Ark Zoo, and it's equipped her with a particular set of skills. She can worm goats, bottle-feed a sick chinchilla, and wrangle a wayward snake with her eyes closed. But when her father becomes a local TV celebrity where he's pecked, clawed, and pooped on for Central Florida's viewing pleasure, she's not sure how to cope with it. Change her name? Move to another city? Then there's Kyler. He's her best friend—the guy who taught her to belch the alphabet kind of friend. And friends don't date friends. Right?

When the family is in danger of losing the zoo, it may take more than a working knowledge of gator wrestling and avoiding the business end of a skunk for Amanda to handle a second-string mobster, find a missing body, and convince Kyler they're meant to be together. All this without suffering an epic social media fail. #Zoolife

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boot in the Door Publications
• Release date: Nov 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9780978818371

Lesa Boutin

About the author: Lesa Boutin lives outside Houston where she is a writer with Writers in the Schools. The main thing to know about Lesa is that she is a daydream believer. Visit her at www.lesaboutin.com or email her: [e-mail]

Book preview

1

I Kissed a Pig

Y ou have ten seconds to turn off that light before I throw something at your head. I squeezed my eyes shut and draped an arm across them. Ten, nine, eight...

C’mon, Manda, look what I brought.

I lifted my elbow and opened one sleep-crusted lid to peer out. Kyler stood in the doorway, corrugated coffee cup in one hand and a mint-colored paper bag in the other.

It’s your faaavorite, he sang and waved the bag in the air. Double espresso and a bear claw.

The rich aroma of coffee tickled my nose, but I jerked the comforter over my head. Nothing’s getting me out of bed before the sun is up.

Yeah? Not even if I post your hook-up from last weekend?

I flung off the covers and glared at him. That wasn’t a hook-up, and you know it. It was a kiss. And it was supposed to be a pig.

The incident he referred to took place at a birthday party hosted by the zoo. Someone had dared me to kiss a pig. I didn’t see a reason not to. Take one for the team and all, which in this case was a group of five-year-olds. But it was a prank. When I’d closed my eyes, and puckered up, the piglet’s whiskery lips were replaced by Greg Warner’s dry leathery ones.

Greg tricked me. He challenged me right there in front of his little brother and those kids. And when I wasn’t expecting it, he smashed his chapped lips into mine.

Kyler snickered. Cut Greg some slack. He can’t help his lips. It’s because of his deviated septum—makes him a mouth-breather.

I stared at the donut bag and licked my lips. The thought of the bear claw made my mouth water. If you post that picture of Greg kissing me, I’ll post the video of you crashing the golf cart into the hotel lobby the same day you got your driver’s license.

He narrowed his eyes but gave up the blackmail. You getting up or not?

I boosted myself into a sitting position and waggled my fingers toward the coffee cup. Give it.

Kyler stepped into my room and placed the warm cup of life into my hands. He looked like Abercrombie and smelled like Calvin Klein, not his usual skater dude threads, which, along with the green bag, told me he’d been to Mugs Coffee House where his ex, Emily, works.

I popped off the lid and sipped the creamy brown liquid, trying not to burn my tongue. Why are you here? I asked.

The rising sun outside my window filtered through the curtains and framed his frown. He shrugged and ran a hand through his thick, tawny bangs. I figured you’d watch the show. Since it’s Mr. G.’s first day.

Nope. I shook my head, holding the cup steady in both hands. I’d planned to sleep until the last possible minute. Then I figured I’d crawl out of bed and grab a Pop Tart before going to work. What I hadn’t planned on was watching my father make a fool of himself in front of half of the state.

What? Are you serious? This could make him famous, a celebrity. Don’t you want everybody to know who you are?

Uh, nooo.

He ignored me. It’s good publicity for the zoo. Hey, we should get him a website, a YouTube channel, maybe a Twitter handle and...

I threw my hand in the air. No. No way. If he got a Twitter account, he’d want to Follow me. How would you like your mom and dad having an all access pass to your private life? Definitely no Twitter, or any other form of social media. I prefer to leave Dad blissfully ignorant.

Coffee splashed over the side of the cup onto my hand, so I wiped it on the comforter. He’s already dorking out about this. You won’t believe what he told Marta last night. He wants a celebrity name. He’s been reading this jungle guy’s biography and wants to give himself a name like him.

Oh, yeah?

I nodded. "He couldn’t be creative enough to think of something cool. All he could come up with was Zookeeper Extraordinaire."

Kyler rolled his lips in, scratched his chin, and nodded. Yeah, I can see that.

Are you kidding me? My brow went up. "Face it, Dad’s more Ace Ventura than Zookeeper Extraordinaire. You’ve seen the stuff they taped here at the zoo, how goofy he was, but at least those were edited and the moronic things he did taken out. The Morning Show is live. The possibilities for stupidity are endless."

Kyler grinned. That’s what makes it cool, even better than scripted reality TV. Anything could go wrong.

I’ll take that now. I motioned for the donut bag.

Eh-eh-eh. He shifted it out of my reach. If you want the bear claw, you have to watch the show with me.

My shoulders drooped and I heaved a sigh. If there was one thing I knew about Kyler, it was his ability to badger me until I caved. You’re not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?

Nope.

I swung my legs and planted my bare feet on the floor. Fine. But it’ll take more than an espresso and a bear claw to make up for this. You owe me.

Satisfied, he walked to the door, a grin spread across his face. Put it on my account. Halfway down the hall he called back, Hurry—before we miss something.

I closed the door and set the coffee cup on the side-table, then hit the button on my phone to see the time.

Six-forty-five.

Uuuugh.

On legs that still slept, I wobbled into my slippers and plodded to the closet. The zoo’s summer operating hours started today, which meant I’d be opening the gift shop, so I dressed in my uniform: red Noble’s Ark polo and khaki shorts.

The coffee tasted great, but I didn’t really need it. I’d been awake when Kyler knocked on my door. I’d lain there staring at the ceiling ever since Dad’s alarm went off at 4:30. Over the last couple of months, he’d made a few guest appearances on The Orlando Morning Show, which led to several uncomfortable encounters at school. People would say things, Caught your Dad on TV. Where’d he get those clothes, Safaris-R-Us? And they were quick to let me know when he’d done something ridiculous. What’s up with your Dad and the bird poop? Thankfully, their interest dwindled after a while, but now that he’d be on every day, the potential for disaster was real. At least school was on break so I wouldn’t have to face my classmates right now.

I turned to leave. The empty ferret cage in the corner caught my eye. Dad came in last night and put Frenchy in a pet carrier to take him to the show this morning. I tried to convince him not to. Ferrets were wily and fast. Not a good combination for live television, but he refused to listen.

After wrapping my hair in a ponytail, I walked into the living room where The Morning Show’s theme song greeted me. Kyler sat kicked back in Dad’s easy chair, head and foot bobbing rhythmically to the familiar jingle and enjoying his own bear claw. Despite my dislike of Dad’s newfound celebrity, I understood Kyler’s enthusiasm over it.

Kyler King’s been my best friend since Mom and Dad bought the zoo. His family owns the Gator Hotel next door. At six, I wasn’t prepared for life in a zoo. Meeting Kyler and his older brother Gavin made it easier. Kyler gave me the lowdown. Since he’d lived next door his whole life, he knew the animals intimately. He told me which ones were friendly and which weren’t, how not to get scratched or bitten, and how to avoid the business end of a skunk. He loved the zoo, so, naturally, he’d be excited about Dad getting the TV gig.

The donut bag waited for me on the coffee table and Monica Taylor, The Morning Show host, launched into her usual monologue as I picked it up and lowered myself onto the couch. Are you happy now?

Kyler didn’t reply, so I opened the bag and peered in, but my stomach revolted. Anxiety had created a three-ring circus in my belly. I folded the top of the bag and tossed it back onto the table. Swallowing my uneasiness, I curled my legs onto the sofa and readied for the show.

On screen, Monica chatted with the weatherman about hurricane awareness. One can never be too prepared, she said to the camera. After all, this is Florida.

I ground my teeth together. Her voice gets on my nerves. It’s sharp, like a paper cut to the eardrum. And she’s so fake. Fake hair. Fake smile. Fake boobs.

Kyler spewed milk between his lips and turned wide eyes on me. No. You think?

Oh, yeah. I nodded. Those girls are store bought.

If those are pre-fab, he said, jutting his chin toward my flat chest, you might wanna find out where she shops.

Ha, ha. Hilarious, I sneered and flipped him a single-fingered response.

The Morning Show announcer interrupted us. In our next half hour, we’ll have Gage Noble from the Noble’s Ark Zoo in Kissimmee. So, stay with us. There’s much more to come.

The circus in my stomach moved into its next act—the trapeze—while a series of commercials played. I looked at Kyler, wanting him to understand what I was going through, but he licked his fingers and pulled a cinnamon twist from the bag in his lap. How many sweet rolls were in there?

I chewed my thumbnail to a nub and nursed a guilty conscience. What if Kyler was right? What if I was being too hard on Dad? He loves the animals, there’s no doubt about that, but if it has a beak, Dad will be pecked. If it has fangs, he’ll be bitten. Claws, you can bet he’ll be scratched. So, sitting in front of the seventy-inch TV Dad bought to watch himself on, Ringling Brothers in my belly, all I could think was, God, please don’t let him do anything embarrassing.

Kyler gestured at the TV with his milk carton. Here it comes. Mr. G. should be next. Who’d he take with him this morning?

Frenchy.

Oh, boy. This ought to be good.

Monica shuffled a stack of loose papers on the table next to her then put delicate fingers to her short brown hair to smooth invisible strays. "And now it’s time for The Morning Show’s wildlife segment, Getting Up with the Chickens."

Watch her. She can’t stand Dad.

This morning’s presentation is a special treat. Starting today, Getting Up with the Chickens will be a part of our summer programming. We’re excited to have the owner of the Noble’s Ark Zoo in Kissimmee joining us. She turned and faced a curtain to her left, a plastic smile revealing bleached-white teeth she kept angled at the camera. Please welcome Zookeeper Extraordinaire, Gage Noble.

What do you wanna bet she gets as much distance as she can between her and... Before I could complete my sentence, Monica stood and sidled around behind her chair.

A parade of elephants marched through my stomach as I watched Dad burst from the curtains onto the stage. As usual, he looked like he’d come from an expedition on the plains of Africa, in his tan Serengeti getup and dusty old camo hat he’d worn for years. Thankfully, The Morning Show didn’t have a live audience, only the newscast and crew were there. Other than them, viewers consisted of stay-at-home moms feeding early rising toddlers, and Florida’s retiree community.

Cradling Frenchy in the crook of his arm, Dad walked in front of the camera and smiled like he was doing a toothpaste commercial.

Frenchy looks restless. Doesn’t he look restless? I asked.

Pressure built behind my eyes as Dad tucked himself into a leather chair alongside Monica’s. In a flash, Frenchy wiggled out of his grasp and scurried up onto Dad’s shoulder where he settled onto his haunches. Suspicious, the ferret tilted his pointy nose upward to sniff the air.

The pressure in my head turned into a pounding throb.

Come, sit, Dad said to Monica.

Monica murmured something unintelligible and cupped a hand around her throat. A flush fanned her cheeks and she swallowed hard. You brought the—the ferret. And it’s agitated. Like last time.

Last time. I knew what she meant, but the audience didn’t. It was one of those moronic moments taped at the zoo, one they’d edited out. Dad had been playing with Frenchy and the ferret bit him on the neck. Just a love bite, but it freaked-out the crew and Monica, too.

Frenchy’s happy to be here, Dad said. Come join us. You’ll see. He lifted Frenchy from his shoulder and placed him on his lap, gingerly stroking his furry brown back. Shiny whiskers twitched as the ferret reveled in the affectionate touch.

Poor Frenchy. It would serve Dad right if Frenchy sank his teeth into him again.

Whoa, that’s harsh, Kyler said. I didn’t know I’d be getting the bear along with the bear claw this morning. What’s got you so uptight?

I pointed at the TV. Look at his clothes. It’s like they’ve been slept in. His boots are caked with all manner of animal crap, and you know I mean that literally. Not to mention what he did to his truck.

Kyler swiveled in the chair to face me. Hey, don’t diss the truck. That truck is sweet. How many people get around town in a ride like that?

Ahhh—none. And that’s my point. No self-respecting teen wants a parent taking her to school. But try getting there in a zebra-striped truck that blasts a Tarzan yell.

I switched from chewing my thumbnail to tugging on the ends of my hair. How could I explain this to him? Kyler’s always had an innate confidence. If he walked around school with a green booger hanging from his nose, and someone pointed it out and gave him a tissue, he’d respond with, Aww, man, wish I’d got a pic. I could have made it my profile.

It was impossible for him to understand what it was like to be a girl. There’s always some girl, usually a group of them, waiting to point out imperfections in others, which made me content to be a non-factor at school. Elementary and junior high hadn’t been so bad. There’d been kids who wanted to be my friend for free zoo tickets, but the attention I got then was mostly positive. High school life was different. It was lived within the realms of technology and virtual reality as much as it was the locker-lined halls of academia. People could say what they wanted about a person and get away with it. I didn’t want to be one of those persons. Plus, a lot of the parents