“WHAT!” Lemon snapped, glaring at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Marco realized he’d been frowning at her while remembering his dream.

  “Are we there yet?” she called to the front.

  “Almost,” Anton replied. “Five more minutes.”

  Lemon fiddled with her Kitten Brigade hat, then decided to put it back on.

  The minivan exited the freeway and turned onto a wide, sun-bleached road. To the left, raw sand dunes cascaded across the vast, open sprawl of the ancient, undisturbed desert. This was the Coachella Valley Fringed-Toed Lizard Preserve, the last refuge of the indigenous Uma inornata.

  On the right, in stark contrast to the open, endless dunes, stood the local architectural marvel known as The Great Golden Wall of Golden Rays. The legendary, bright-yellow barrier rose high above the desert floor, protecting the exclusive retirement community like a fortress.

  A deep, murky moat ringed its base, ensuring that nothing, not even the desert itself, could enter uninvited.

  It was the only place in the entire Coachella Valley Marco had never been and had never wanted to go.

  Anton turned onto a short brick road that led to an impressive drawbridge spanning over the deep, murky water. Two security towers flanked the entrance. One crowned with a red pennant reading “Guests,” the other topped with a green pennant reading “Residents Only.”

  The Kitten Brigade waited in the long guest line beneath the red pennant.

  Ahead of them were service cars and trucks belonging to dog groomers, manicurists, caterers, chiropractors, house cleaners… and a single long black hearse.

  One by one, the vehicles were allowed to pass over the bridge and through the giant arched gates of Golden Rays.

  Anton muttered, “Uh oh,” and pulled the minivan over to let an ambulance pass.

  Marbles, in her best old-lady voice, quoted the Golden Rays TV commercial: “Spend your golden days at Golden Rays.”

  Then her cell phone rang.

  “Hello?” she answered, still in her old lady voice. “Could you please speak up, dear?”

  Dropping the act, teenage Marbles cut in briskly, “Yeah, he’s here. Let me put it on speaker.”

  She looked back at Marco from the front seat. “It’s Sheila,” she said. “She has news about the puppy.”

  From the phone, Sheila’s voice rang out. “Can you hear me, Marco?”

  “Yeah! I can hear you!” he shouted.

  “Lucky Valentino is going to be okay!”

  Truly relieved, Marco’s face lit up with a big bright smile.

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  Sheila continued, “He’s going to need a lot of care. Dr. Scuffles put him in two leg casts, one on the front and one on the back. She says the other fractures are internal and will take time to heal on their own. Here, let me hand the phone over.”

  There was a pause, then Dr. Scuffles’ voice came on.

  “Marco?”

  “I’m here!” he answered quickly.

  “Marco, I’m signing him out to your care, okay?”

  “That’s fine. When do I need to come get him?”

  “You don’t!” Sheila’s voice jumped back in. “Guess who’s here with me!”

  “Hi, Marco!” It was his mother’s voice. She was laughing.

  “Mom?” Marco blinked at the phone.

  Andrea answered, “I came to see the infamous Lucky Valentino, and now I guess I’m bringing him home.”

  Sheila chimed in, “Your mom is going to take care of him while you help out the Kitten Brigade! How do you like that?”

  “Mom? Really?” Marco said, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

  Andrea’s voice came through the phone. “Well, I’m stuck at home anyway. I think I’m going to like the company.”

  “There’s just one snafu,” Dr. Scuffles interjected. “We need you to monitor his feces.”

  “His what?” Marco blinked.

  “His poo, Marco. His poo!” Sheila shouted into the phone.

  Dr. Scuffles explained, “We ran some tests, and the lab techs think he may have gotten into some kind of food dye or artificial coloring. It’s nothing dangerous, just… unusually vivid. The phenomenon should clear itself up soon. I know it sounds silly, but I’d like you to monitor things and make sure the color returns to normal.”

  “I… I don’t understand,” Marco said, staring at the phone.

  Sheila blurted out, “He’s pooping rainbows, Marco! It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw.”

  Marbles and Lemon burst into giggles.

  Marco smiled warily.

  His mom’s voice came through the speaker again. “He’ll be there when you get home today. Don’t worry—everything’s going to be alright.”

  Sheila shouted, “Go get that cat, Marco! See you later!”

  Lemon and Anton chimed in with quick goodbyes and Marbles switched back to her old lady voice. “Goodbye to you, too, dears.” Then she hung up the phone.

  Anton’s turn in line finally came, and he pulled up to the guard tower window.

  The uniformed man seemed to recognize him but said nothing. Just waved them on with a golden-gloved hand.

  The Kitten Brigade crossed the drawbridge and passed through the gleaming gates of Golden Rays.

  Marco stared, amazed. It was as if the desert had never existed.

  Huge, perfectly manicured elm trees lined the road, casting deep shade. Beyond them stretched acres of flat-topped ficus hedges and towering Italian cypresses, rising and falling over lush green slopes dotted with small lakes and waterfalls.

  There wasn’t a cactus or palm tree in sight.

  It’s like they’ve been erased.

  The cars and service trucks ahead of them split off in different directions, and soon the Kitten Brigade minivan was the only vehicle left crawling down the long, quiet street.

  Anton eased on the brakes as they approached a red traffic signal.

  The light hung over an intersection where the road crossed a narrow cement pathway reserved exclusively for golf carts.

  A row of four shiny yellow-and-white carts glided by, their senior passengers smiling warmly and waving at them as they rolled across.

  Old Lady Marbles waved back.

  “See you on the green!” Marbles called in her old lady voice, leaning out the window.

  A pleasant older woman in a yellow sun hat replied cheerfully, “It’s a lovely day for it!”

  “Team…” Anton paused to turn down the radio. “Team, I’m taking you up to the main clubhouse. I want you to familiarize yourselves with the place. It’s a great big building. Easy to find if you get lost.”

  “Look at the size of it!” Marbles exclaimed, eyes wide as they pulled into the clubhouse parking lot.

  She stared in awe at the endlessly sprawling building.

  The lot was jammed with golf carts parked at odd angles and wedged into every possible spot. They spilled over onto the sidewalks and even the manicured lawns. There was no space for a big mini-van like Anton’s, so he pulled into the circular driveway and let the kids out by the front entrance.

  The three of them stepped into the early morning heat.

  Lemon and Marco unloaded the animal trap and their gear from the back.

  Marbles closed the doors behind them.

  “Bye bye, Mr. Cookie-Montebello!” Lemon shouted, smiling and waving.

  Marbles blew him kisses.

  “Remember to stick together and call if you need me,” Anton reminded them.

  He tipped his hat solemnly, as if they were off to war. Then he drove away.

  Old Lady Marbles turned to Marco. “What now, sonny?”