Mr. Hot Grinch - Lindsey Hart Page 0,28
direction. It’s just a gentle press with the fingertips. That’s how I’ve seen people do it. The right or the left side? The left, duh. But which is the left? Why can’t I tell right now? Why can’t I see anything? I blink furiously to clear away the tears blinding me.
“Dead opossum!” Shade screams from behind me.
Yup. That would be why I’m crying. And the poor thing. It’s actually not that ugly. The longer I look at it, the more it appears pretty cute. And it doesn’t feel strange. He’s kind of soft underneath my fingertips, and his long mouth is gaping open to reveal teeth. There are also lots of whiskers all over the place. Jesus, I’m going to have to put my mouth there if it doesn’t respond. I think. Do you blow breath down an animal like you would a person?
“Wait!” Shade runs over and holds the phone in my general direction.
I’m about to tell him I don’t have time for that when the tinny, electronic voice starts talking—talking about opossums.
About. How. They. Play. Dead.
“Oh my god!” I back away from the animal in horror. “You think it’s still alive?”
Shade nods solemnly. I back him up because now I’m worried the thing might have some kind of disease or might revive and bite him. Please let it just be faking it. Please. Please don’t let it actually have died.
My god, I almost put my mouth on its mouth.
What would it have tasted like? What do they actually eat? Christ, why am I even considering this?
I snatch the phone and shut off the voice that’s reciting facts about opossums. I find a wildlife rescue in no time and hit the call icon. The phone rings and rings, then a sweet voice comes through on the other end. That voice sounds a lot like salvation at the moment.
“Hi! I found an opossum in my backyard. It was hissing a second ago, and now it’s died. I mean, I think it’s just faking it. It…it’s the middle of the day, though—broad daylight. Um, and we’re in a subdivision, which is not where it should be. I think maybe it’s acting strange, and I also think it might be diseased or have something seriously wrong with it. I think it has rabies.”
“Actually, opossums can’t get rabies because their body temperature is too low,” the girl on the other end of the line chuckles.
Why the hell is she laughing about this? This is so not funny. She’s supposed to be a wildlife rescuer or something. Shouldn’t she actually care? If the animal isn’t faking it, it is going to be a real tragedy over here.
“It’s perfectly normal for it to be doing what it’s doing. I guarantee you, it’s fine,” the girl goes on.
How would she know? She can’t even see it. I debate texting her a picture and asking if she finds it so funny now to laugh at the unfortunate creature.
“Uh, I…can you send someone? This thing shouldn’t be here. It’s in the middle of the city. I mean, not the middle, but it’s probably not safe here. There are cars and stuff. Can it be relocated?”
“Sure, we can send someone. Can you stay with him and watch to make sure he’s okay for an hour or so until I can get someone out to you?”
“Yes. Sure. Absolutely.” Dear god. An hour? What if it revives and attacks us?
I give the girl our address, then take Shade’s hand and march him back ten feet or so. We sit down on the grass, and we’re completely silent as we wait. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I start looking up facts about opossums just to keep us busy. Shade’s cheeks are stained with tear tracks from before, back when we thought the creature had died. I want to take him inside and clean him up, but that would mean leaving the opossum, and I don’t want it to wander off and get hit by a car on the road or have someone freak out and do something terrible to it in their panic. Even in my panic, I would never have done anything like getting a broom or…or something else. I would have tried to make sure it was okay.
“Did you know that opossums are actually immune to some snake venom or something like that?” I quickly paraphrase the super long science article without really even reading it. “They provide the anti-venom for a ton of different snake bites.”
“That’s cool,” Shade