“Pop can work with her. She’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” said Raven Stark. “How much?”

“Seven hundred for the day.” Wahoo tried to sound steady and businesslike. He wasn’t used to handling the negotiations. The standard rental rate for pythons was fifty dollars a foot.

“Okay, fine. What did you say your name was?”

He told her.

“Is that ‘Wahoo,’ like the fish?”

Everybody made that assumption. “My dad named me after a wrestler,” the boy explained.

“How interesting.”

“Not really,” said Wahoo.

“Can I ask what happened?” She pointed at the white bump on Wahoo’s right hand, where a thumb should have been.

“Yes, ma’am. Alice got it.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Quickly Wahoo said, “It wasn’t her fault, it was mine.”

One day he’d been showing off for a girl who had come over after school to see the animals. Wahoo had brought her down to the gator pond for a feeding, but he stepped way too close to Alice, who jumped up and snapped the thawed chicken out of his grasp, taking his thumb along with it. The girl’s name was Paulette, and she’d fainted on the spot.

Changing the subject, Wahoo asked, “Where is Mr. Badger?”

“Paris,” Raven said.

Wahoo had never heard of any dangerous jungles or swamps in Paris, so he assumed the famous survivalist was taking a vacation.

Mickey Cray came outside and joined them at the snake tanks. Wahoo told him that Ms. Stark was interested in using Beulah, the big Burmese.

“Good choice,” said Mickey. He appeared to be feeling better.

“You’ve seen the program, of course,” Raven said.

“Sure,” said Wahoo. “It’s on Thursday nights.”

“And rerun every Sunday morning,” she said. “So you already know that we’re all about verisimilitude.”

Wahoo didn’t even pretend to understand what the word meant. His father just looked at him and shrugged.