Chapter 3 — Promotional Day Chaos
Ellie
The Evergreen Zoo’s Entrance Plaza buzzed with more life than Ellie had seen in months. Brightly colored banners flapped in the crisp autumn breeze, proclaiming “Family Fun Day at the Evergreen Zoo!” The scent of popcorn mingled with the faint musk of the nearby river, while the strains of upbeat music floated over the cheerful chatter of the growing crowd. Children’s laughter rang out as they darted between face-painting stations and balloon vendors. Ellie stood rigid near the fountain, arms crossed tightly over her khaki-clad chest, her sharp green eyes scanning the scene with barely concealed irritation.
It was all too much—a cacophony of noise and spectacle that felt entirely at odds with the zoo’s mission.
A young woman in a bright purple jacket zipped past Ellie, clutching a DSLR camera with a paw-print strap bouncing on her shoulder. Chloe Kim, the zoo’s exuberant social media coordinator, crouched under a maple tree, snapping photos of a toddler delightedly clutching a giraffe-shaped balloon. The child’s giggles blended with the rustling leaves overhead, creating a soundscape Ellie might have appreciated under different circumstances.
“You’ve got to admit, this is a good turnout,” Chloe said without looking up, her voice bright and tinged with triumph.
Ellie pressed her lips into a thin line. “A good turnout doesn’t mean it’s good for the zoo.” Her tone was clipped, but Chloe only grinned, unfazed.
Across the plaza, the source of Ellie’s irritation stood at the center of the chaos, microphone in hand and a wide grin plastered on his face. Ryan Carter, the zoo’s new marketing consultant, looked entirely at ease in his role as ringmaster. His dark blazer and casual shirt radiated effortless charm, and his warm hazel eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a man in his element.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” Ryan’s voice boomed over the portable speakers, drawing the crowd’s attention. “Welcome to Family Fun Day at the Evergreen Zoo! We’ve got live animal encounters, contests, and a chance to win free memberships. So stick around, explore the zoo, and let’s make some memories!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Ryan gave a theatrical bow before stepping aside to let a zookeeper lead a small, bewildered-looking armadillo onto the stage. Ellie’s stomach churned.
“This is absurd,” she muttered under her breath. “A three-banded armadillo isn’t a party trick.”
“Come on, Dr. Hart,” Chloe teased, glancing up from her camera. “Lighten up a little. The zoo needs this. You know it.”
Ellie’s jaw tightened. Of course she knew it. The zoo’s precarious financial state had been the subject of every meeting, every sleepless night, for months. She’d heard Victor Moreno, the zoo’s director, say it just that morning: they needed today to succeed if they had any hope of keeping the gates open through the winter. And yet, the spectacle unfolding before her—the balloons, the face painting, the cartoonish mascot—felt like a betrayal of everything the zoo was supposed to stand for. Conservation. Education. Respect for wildlife. Not this… circus.
A child’s delighted squeal pierced the air, and Ellie turned to see a young boy, maybe six years old, giggling as he reached out to touch the armadillo’s smooth shell. His parents stood nearby, snapping photos on their phones. For a fleeting moment, Ellie’s irritation softened. That wonder on the boy’s face—that was why she had dedicated her life to this work. The armadillo, calm and steady, seemed to meet the child’s gaze with an unspoken patience. It was a connection, however brief, between humans and the natural world.
But then a balloon popped nearby, startling the armadillo, and Ellie’s chest tightened. She stepped forward instinctively, but the zookeeper quickly soothed the animal. Still, the moment left her nerves frayed.
“Ellie!” Ryan’s voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her focus back to the stage. He was waving her over, his grin mischievous. “Come on up here! Tell everyone about our star attraction!”
She froze. A ripple of dread coiled in her chest.
“No,” she said flatly.
“Yes.” His grin widened, and the crowd began to turn their attention toward her. Chloe gave her a gentle nudge, and Ellie shot her a glare before reluctantly trudging toward the stage.
Ryan extended a hand to help her up the steps. She ignored it, stepping onto the platform with practiced precision. The microphone he handed her felt awkward and heavy in her grip.
“Uh, good afternoon,” she began, her voice wooden. “I’m Dr. Eleanor Hart, head zoologist here at the Evergreen Zoo. I, um… I wanted to introduce you to one of our fascinating residents.” She gestured toward the armadillo, now curled into a tight ball on the table beside her.
“This is Archie.” She paused, centering herself in the familiar rhythm of explaining an animal’s behavior. “He’s a three-banded armadillo, native to South America. Unlike other armadillo species, he can roll completely into a ball to protect himself from predators. It’s a remarkable example of evolution and adaptation.”
The crowd murmured appreciatively, though Ellie caught sight of a few children tugging on their parents’ sleeves, clearly more interested in the balloon animals. She suppressed a sigh.
“Thank you, Dr. Hart!” Ryan’s voice interjected smoothly as he reclaimed the microphone. “Isn’t she great, folks? Let’s give her a hand!”
The crowd applauded politely, and Ellie stepped off the stage, her cheeks burning. Ryan caught her eye and mouthed, “Nice job.” She scowled before retreating to the edge of the plaza.
An hour later, Ellie found herself lingering near the zoo’s gift shop, watching the event unfold from a safe distance. Children laughed as they posed with balloon animals, while parents sipped coffee and chatted under the shade of the sparse trees. Chloe darted through the crowd, her camera clicking away, and Ryan was deep in conversation with a group of visitors. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.
Ellie’s fingers brushed against the pen tucked into her jacket pocket. She needed to write.
Slipping away from the crowd, she made her way to the Butterfly Garden. The moment she stepped inside, the noise of the event faded into a gentle hum, replaced by the soft whispers of wings and the floral scent of nectar. The garden’s tranquility wrapped around her like a comforting cocoon.
She pulled out her Field Journal and flipped to a blank page. Her pen hovered for a moment before she began to write.
*October 12th.*
*The promotional event is… successful, I suppose. The plaza is packed, and ticket sales are undoubtedly up. But at what cost? The focus is entirely on entertainment, with little regard for the educational mission we’re supposed to uphold. I keep thinking about Archie. He deserves better than to be paraded around like a prop. They all do.*
Her pen paused, and her gaze drifted to the monarch butterfly fluttering past her. She thought of the boy and the armadillo, his laughter echoing in her mind. A flicker of doubt crept in.
*Maybe I’m being too harsh. The children seem happy, and perhaps that’s enough. Maybe it’s a start. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re losing something important—something sacred—in all this noise.*
A sudden rustle of footsteps broke her reverie. She turned to see Ryan standing at the entrance, his ever-present smile subdued.
“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, his hands tucked into his pockets.
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be basking in the glory of your event?”
“Not really my style,” he replied, his tone quieter than usual. “Besides, it’s not about me. It’s about the zoo. About keeping it alive.”
“Is that what this is?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. “Saving the zoo by turning it into a theme park?”
His smile faltered, and for a moment, she thought she’d finally cracked the polished veneer. But then he straightened, his charm snapping back into place like armor.
“Look, I get it,” he said. “You care about this place. So do I. We just have different ideas about how to make it work.”
“Do you?” she challenged, her voice quieter but no less pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you care more about ticket sales than the animals.”
Ryan hesitated, his gaze softening for the briefest moment. “And from where I’m standing, it looks like you’d rather let this place fall apart than try something new.”
The words stung. They stared at each other in tense silence, the butterflies floating between them like uneasy witnesses.
Finally, Ryan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m not your enemy, Ellie. I want what you want—a future for this zoo. But we’re not going to get there if we keep fighting each other.”
Ellie said nothing, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts.
“Just… think about it,” he said quietly before turning and walking away, leaving her alone with the butterflies once more.
She exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing against the journal in her pocket. As much as she hated to admit it, Ryan had a point. If they couldn’t find a way to work together, the zoo’s future was as fragile as the delicate wings surrounding her.
