Read Online The Dragon Keeper by Mindy Mejía - Free Book Online Page B

to shove their media relations plan. She couldn’t afford it, though. The last incident had landed her a fat probation and who knew how many checkmarks on her file. She had to play it by their rules, in their language, font, and form. It was the only way to protect the hatchlings.
    “Do you want me to write up an e-mail or a—memo—or something?” The word even tasted nasty. “I can point out all the studies that support this. The Species Survival Plan doesn’t specifically instruct about care, but there’s tons of data—”
    He held up a hand in a mini Heil Hitler. “Don’t do anything. I’ll talk with the appropriate parties, and if we need some further information to make a decision, I’ll contact you.”
    “You’re talking about tomorrow, Chuck. Are you going to hear back on this pretty soon?”
    “You’ll hear as soon as the management team makes their decision and not before. And no matter what that decision is, you’ll cooperate with it completely or face suspension. After your probation last fall, I’d have no choice in the matter. Are we clear, Megan?”
    “You read all my paperwork, right, Chuck?” Some of the hose coils were starting to slide down her shoulder, and she bounced the load back higher against her neck.
    “Most of it, yes.”
    “Notice how I sign everything ‘Meg Yancy,’ not ‘Megan’?”
    “Actually, no.” He tucked the clipboard against his side like a football, which was his universal sign of departure. “Your signature is completely illegible.”
    He turned around and disappeared inside the Visitor Center.
    “Fucking bosses,” she muttered, making her way back to the reptiles.
    She used the water hose to fill up the black tree monitor’s pond, scaring him up the only branch in the exhibit when she ducked inside. It was a bare-bones space; a small pond and a piece of driftwood were the only things keeping him company between the beige walls. She fed and groomed him once a week, according to his care plan, and watched his SAMs, of course, but the only other interaction he had was through the glass. Meg scrubbed it down from the inside and watched the visitors stream by. Some stopped and waved at her. Others watched the monitor for a second and read his description on the wall. The rest just glanced in as they herded their children on to Jata’s exhibit around the corner because that was the big attraction in the Reptile Kingdom. That’s why they were here. Meg watched them disappear around the corner again and again and felt herself slide away with them, wondering what Jata was up to this afternoon and how much longer it would take her to finish with this exhibit. Then she kicked herself.
    She stayed with the black tree monitor longer than necessary, sweeping up nonexistent dirt and watching him watch her from the security of his branch. She wiped the glass down until she could see her reflection in the drifting crowd, until the walls closed in around her and it was easy to understand how a bird could have a view like this and throw itself away.

1 Week before Hatching
    L ike every fun moment in her childhood, just when Meg started to relax and get used to seeing him, her father left. He stayed a week this time around, which seemed about right. It would have been pitch-perfect if he’d brought her some hotel soaps and souvenir T-shirts from Ireland and promised to take her with him on one of his next sales trips. That simple gifts-and-promises strategy had served him unbelievably well for the better part of her preteen years; it was like her holy grail as a kid.
    When Meg was growing up, her mother had dragged her off to some dog show almost every weekend, packing her up in their minivan along with the dogs, kennels, food, suitcases, and all the paraphernalia of competition. They drove for hours, sometimes days, for the big shows, with Meg sitting in the passenger seat staring silently out the window while her mother talked endlessly about her rivals, their inferior