“I am when they suit the situation. These birds are show offs. Totally flamboyant. Can’t you see that?”

Zoe tilts her head while watching. “You should know.” Then she points to a few smaller white ones hanging out by the water’s edge. “The young ones are fascinating.”

“Yep. They get their color around one year old. They’re not as flamboyant yet.”

Zoe looks up into the trees in the aviary and grins. “Okay, this is pretty cool. I bet there are some birds here that we can’t see at home. But I wonder why the token brought us here?”

“Who knows?” I think a minute. “Hey, Zoe, did I just daydream this, or did I say the word flamingo right before the token caught fire?”

Zoe’s eyes shift right, left, then down. “Yeah, you did. You weren’t making sense. I thought you were about to faint.”

“I was going to faint. The canopy was spinning, and my thoughts were all mushy. I don’t know why I said flamingo.”

“You were probably thinking about your backpack.”

“I was.”

We listen for a few seconds as some of the flamingos squawk and march around with their necks stretched out.

“Hey, Zoe . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that—”

“What?”

“Do you think that maybe I controlled the token this time? I mean, I said the word flamingo, and here we are.”

Zoe turns toward me, grabs both my shoulders, and shudders. “Lord help us if you start controlling the token.”

I pull her hands off me. “Why? What would be wrong with that? I’d take us to some great places if I were in control.”

“Hey!” Zoe points toward one of the young, white flamingos trotting over to the water’s edge. It hops up on the trail and starts walking—fast.

“Whoa! That’s an adventurous one. I’ve never seen a flamingo leave its flock before.”

“You mean, it’s flamboyance, don’t you, Arcade?”

“Hey, he’s really moving out! Let’s follow him! Come here, little guy! You’re supposed to be wading in this water over here!”

The little white flamingo flaps its wings and picks up speed toward the exit to the aviary, just as the family with the teenager decides to leave. The dad is in the front of the line this time, so he doesn’t notice the teenager leaving the door propped open. Again!

“Oh, no! It’s moving toward the open door! Hurry up, Zoe!” We pick up the pace.

“Hey, flamingo! Flamey! Flames! Get back here! Don’t follow them!” I yell, but the determined flamingo charges for the door. “ESCAAAAAAAPPPE!” I yell at the top of my lungs and have visions of the little flamingo running into another exhibit and getting eaten by a tiger or crushed under an elephant’s foot.