A Day at the Zoo

Nearly ten years had passed since the day the Dursleys woke up to find, of all things, their battered niece on the stoop, and Rotisserie Court was not as it had been. The sun was dark in their eyes when they looked upon the unwelcome guest. Harriet Potter was a constant reminder of all the Dursleys hated and feared. However, they had a decent sense of social and familial responsibility, and so could not kick her out. Petunia and Vernon, now "Aunt" and "Uncle" lavished all of their love and attention on Dudley while mostly ignoring Harriet. He had grown into an active boy who compensated for his marked lack of intellect with athletic skill and clownish antics. Harriet, on the other hand, became quiet and antisocial. Her Aunt and Uncle had fostered in her cynicism beyond her years. Yet she was a lovely girl, slender, with short unkempt black hair and soft Caramel Macchiato skin. Most of her time was spent reading and people watching.

On the day in question, Harriet awoke around 10 o'clock in her tiny walk-in closet converted bedroom. Throwing on some denim cut-offs and a T-shirt she had found at the YMCA, she rushed downstairs. The girl had slept too late once again: breakfast was over. The Dursleys maintained that it was unhealthy to eat between meals, so Harriet would now have to wait for lunch. Upon seeing the parti-colored gifts piled on the kitchen table, she was reminded that it was Dudley's birthday. A blue and yellow cake was perched on the counter, candles waiting to be lit. The happy family was about to begin unwrapping presents.

As an only child (more or less), Dudley often received lavish gifts despite their mid-range income. Somewhere in the pile lurked a new Nintendo DS and a digital camcorder. Aunt Petunia usually gave Harriet 5 dollars on her birthday, if she remembered. The Dursleys would enjoy this little holiday that much more if she made herself scarce, so she grabbed her backpack and flip-flops. "I'm going!" she yelled as the door slammed behind her. Instead of breaking her spirit, her upbringing neglected by her Aunt and Uncle had made her strong-willed and fiercely independent. Harriet took no more from her guardians than necessary.

Her favorite place to go was the old downtown area. A new, young crowd had claimed the run-down buildings and shops. Alternative was putting it lightly, and the area was becoming hip. Yet many of the dealers and bums kept their old haunts. It was completely unsuitable for a child, but that's what she loved about it. Harriet called it affectionately "the Zoo." She loved to weave through the throngs and inspect the exotic wares offered. Many locals recognized her and she was greeted by name in some shops, smiling shyly in return. Little Mr. Moua, the Laotian grocer, always tossed her an orange and shouted "Carpe Diem!"

The Zoo was a good long walk away, and Harriet hadn't meant to wander so far that day. The sight of Dudley with his doting parents, however brittle a façade it was, had upset her a good deal. She had no memory at all of her parents and couldn't help but ask why? Why had the cosmos aligned to make her so very alone? Harriet had never allowed herself to get close enough to have a real friend--she couldn't help it. On a day like this, couples, families and friends seemed to mock her loneliness and all the friendly greetings in the world could not fill the gaping hole in her heart. But her delicate features remained impassive.

Glancing at her four-dollar watch, Harriet realized she had now missed lunch in addition to breakfast. "Damn them!" she thought vehemently, "I'll miss dinner as well." She walked several blocks to the nearest Starbucks. It was crowded with lunch-hour suits. An order soon came up that elicited no response from the waiting crowd. Probably talking on their cell phone. Harriet counted to five Mississippis. "I'll get it, Ma!" she said loudly to no one in particular, sized the mocha, and waltzed out the door and around the corner. It was skim milk, and a little strong for her taste, but quieted her growling stomach right away.

After sipping the syrupy dregs of the latte, Harriet decided to pick up the next Anne of Green Gables book--she had just finished the third in the series. She only wished her life would work out as well as Anne's. The lonely girl especially loved series, as the only relationships she had were in books, she liked them to be as long-term as possible. Harriet's favorite books were the Oz series, followed closely by the Chronicles of Narnia, even if it was a biblical allegory. There was a Barnes & Noble nearby, with an inviting children's section so kids would stay longer and force their parents to buy more. It was the work of minutes to flip through a book and remove the magnetic strips, then stuff it surreptitiously under the miniature plastic table and into her waiting backpack. In later days she would call this "fucking the system," but even in her tender years Harriet could sense the stench of corporate evil in the giant chain store. She had simply learned to utilize what resources were available. She had a strong sense of honor, of course, and would never steal from a real book store or from and individual person.

There was a cramped, dirty little park near the Zoo. Here she settled under a decrepit maple to begin devouring the new book. The Dursleys could worry as much as they liked, or not at all! Harriet was determined to stay out all day, though under this bravado she was a little hungry.

Some time later, a kindly voice disturbed her. "What are you reading there, my dear?" it asked. Unnoticed by her, an older man with a friendly face had stopped on the path near her. He was wearing a dark jacket and carrying a knobbly walking stick.

"A book."

"My, is that Anne of Green Gables?" the man continued, "My dear niece so loves those books." Harriet was silent. "Do you like very much to read, m'dear?"

"Yeah," she grumbled, beginning to feel ashamed of being so rude.

"But where on earth are your parents? This is a rough part of town, you know . . ." He had squatted down to her eye level.

"They're dead," she replied softly.

"Oh my, you poor thing. You're all alone here?"

Harriet nodded. She had begun to sniffle. She was so very lonely that day, and rather depressed, and the nice man was looking at her so kindly. It was so rare that she really spoke with anyone at all.

"It's almost dinner-time, honey," said the man as he glanced at his watch. "Do you need a ride somewhere--home?"

Harriet shook her head furiously, then added, "nothankyouverrymush," through tears. The Dursley's, hardly home, was the last place she wanted to go.

"Tell you what, how about I buy you something to eat? I don't want you out here all by yourself. Do you like pancakes? I think there's a great little restaurant right near here. Best pancakes in the world!" It was a good guess, for pancakes were Harriet's very favorite food aside from movie popcorn. She wiped her face off on her sleeve and, standing up, took his proffered hand. He led her about a block, then stopped beside a white Lincoln. The nice man explained it was further than he thought, so they really should drive. This was a really great place, though.

Harriet balked for a moment. It felt a little weird . . . But he was being so kind to her and going out of his way. She didn't want to start acting silly. But when she got in the car she became more nervous. He hummed a jolly Christmas tune, and Harriet remained silent until she looked outside and realized they had passed quite a few streets.

"Umm . . . Mister," she started, "Where exactly is it we're going to?"

"Oh, it's right around here, m'dear," he assured her gently.

A few moments later, Harriet began to feel panic welling up in her. What was this guy's name, had he even said? Oh God, was she going to end up just like the foolish children she had seen in the filmstrip at school? "Sir, could you please stop now?" she said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Oh? But we're nearly there, hon, why would you want to stop just now?"

Another force was rising up in her, uncontrollably. "Stop! Just Stop!" she screamed, by this point totally freaking out. "Let me out!" she cried. The car screeched to a halt, catching them both off guard. The vehicle's traction, however, was not so good, and it spun around and off the road. The back end slammed into a parked car. The passenger door popped open, and Harriet, screaming like a banshee, tumbled out, terrified. As she sprinted down the street the unfortunate Lincoln burst into greenish flame, much to the surprise of onlookers from a small, world-renowned pancake restaurant across the street.

On the bus ride home, Harriet tried not to mull over what might have happened to her--or for that matter, what had happened. Did that car really blow up? Things like that only happened in movies. She realized she had lost her precious backpack somewhere along the way. Maybe the Dursleys wouldn't even notice, but then again, it was getting awfully late and they were bound to be upset. Perhaps they had simply locked her out. Harriet did some calming breathing exercises and wondered how her real parents would have reacted.