by Avi
“And while we’re very happy that Lilly came to visit,” Poppy continued, “I’m afraid she’s brought us sad news.”
Poppy’s tone made Junior look up. “It’s about my father,” she said. “Your grandfather, whom you’ve never met. Of course, I’ve talked about him. Remember? His name is Lungwort. Lilly has come to tell us he’s not very well.”
Lilly spoke up. “Your mother’s papa—Lungwort—who is my father, too—asked me to come here. He very much needs your mother to visit.”
“Can we come?” piped up Pipsissewa immediately.
Poppy and Rye exchanged looks. “That’s something we haven’t decided,” said Rye.
“But we will soon,” said Poppy. “Because if I go, I’ll need to leave quickly. Now why don’t you show your aunt about while your father and I talk things over.”
The young mice—all but Junior—gathered around Lilly and led her into the snag.
“Junior,” said Rye, “aren’t you going along with the others?”
“I’m going over to Mephitis’s place.”
Poppy tried not to show her disappointment. “Are his parents there?”
“Quit checking up on me all the time,” said Junior. “I’m almost three months old. Not exactly a baby. I can take care of myself.”
“Junior,” said Rye, “it’s the responsibility of parents to know where their children are at all times.”
“Hey, Pops, aren’t you forgetting?” said Junior. “When your brother Ragweed was four months old, he took off from home. Right? Right. Permanently. And what did you tell me Ragweed was always saying? ‘A mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.’ Did I get that right? So I figure I can pretty well take care of myself, too. That okay with you?” He started off.
“When will you be back?” Poppy called after him.
“Later,” said Junior as he disappeared from view.
“Not very sympathetic, is he?” said Rye as he looked after his departing son.
“Rye,” said Poppy, “Junior doesn’t like us anymore.”
“Hopefully it’s just his age,” said Rye. “And he’ll get over it.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” said Poppy. “Oh my, it’s hard when your own child turns against you.”
“Let’s talk about that later,” said Rye, giving Poppy a nuzzle. “You need to decide what you’re going to do.”
“I don’t think I have much choice,” said Poppy. “They seem to need me to make a visit back there. Rye, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. It will seem very strange. Why, none of them has ever met you, or the children.”
“You never wanted us to.”
“It was all so complicated.”
“Do you think we should go?” said Rye.
“I’d love it if everyone could meet my family,” said Poppy. “But it’s a long trip. And you know the forest can be dangerous. It has many creatures—not all pleasant. No, there’s no telling who’s out there. And with so many straggling children in tow . . .”
“Then it’s best we don’t go,” said Rye. “You’ll travel faster that way. Both ways. But I will need to stay home,” he pointed out. “Don’t take offense, but the thought of you traveling alone . . .” He gave her a nuzzle.
“I’ve done it before,” Poppy reminded him. She smiled at him. “Maybe I’m a little wiser now. And if Lilly can do it, surely so can I.”
“I know, but . . .”
“No, I understand,” said Poppy, taking up Rye’s paw. “I’d feel the same if you were going off. And of course Lilly will be with me.”
“Not on the way back.”
“That’s true.” Poppy became thoughtful, and stared into the woods in the direction Junior had taken.
“Rye . . . ,” she said, uncertainty in her voice. “Rye, what would you think if I took . . . Junior?”
“Good gracious! Why would you even want to?”
“Rye, I think I’ve lost contact with him—as a parent, that is. But just maybe, if he and I traveled—just the two of us—it might bring us together. You know, something of an adventure. The worst that could happen is that it would go badly. Things could hardly be poorer than they are now. If we could get along, it might be something special. Junior was right: Ragweed left home when he was four months old. This may be the last chance I’ll have to be with Junior. Of course,” she added, “I’ll have to ask him if he wants to come.”
“He might say no,” Rye warned.
“I’m going to chance it,” said Poppy.
“I do admire you, Poppy,” said Rye with a grin. “But then,” he added, “I always have.”
“Thank you. And if Junior and I become friends again, the trip will be worth it.”
When Aunt Lilly returned with the children, Poppy took her aside and informed her she would make the trip to Gray House. They could leave the next day.
“Oh, Poppy,” said Lilly, “Papa will be gratified. So will Mama. You’ll see, you will get on so much better with them than you used to. Papa’s mellowed.”
Poppy, however, said nothing about Junior coming. She wanted to speak to him first. And she dreaded it.
CHAPTER 5
Poppy Talks to Junior
JUNIOR DID NOT GET BACK until dark. As usual, he came in and headed right down to root level without saying a word about where he had been or what he’d done. Poppy followed.
Junior’s corner was the way it always was, a mess. Poppy had given up trying to get him to clean. Junior wouldn’t. Twigs and leaves lay scattered. His bedding, a pile of wood chips, was in total disarray. Junior himself was on his back, paws behind his head, staring glumly up.
Seeing him there, Poppy felt suddenly shy. It was a strange sensation: she had done much in her life, had real adventures—even dangerous ones. How could she be so unsure of herself with her own child? But though Junior was her son, she felt as if she were approaching a complete stranger, someone—how painful to think it—who could hurt her feelings. Badly.
“Hi,” she said, approaching him cautiously.
Junior did not bother to look at her. “What’s up?” he said.
“Did you have a pleasant time with Mephitis?”
“Yeah. Sick.”
“I’m glad,” said Poppy.
“You don’t like him.”
“Junior, I’ve never said that. I just don’t know him very well.”
“Well, he’s my freaking best friend.”
“What are his parents like?”
“If you’re so interested in them, go visit.”
“Perhaps I should. But Junior, I didn’t come down here to talk about your friend.”
“Good.”
“Did you have supper?”
“Yes.” To prove it, he belched.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s very unpleasant.”
Junior belched again.
Poppy winced. Then she said, “As you heard me say before, I need to go back with my sister to my old home.”
“I hate her.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“How do you know?”
“Just do.”
“I haven’t said to the other children what I’m about to tell you, Junior. My father seems to be in a really bad way.”
“Rucks to be him,” Junior muttered.
Poppy’s tail twitched as she waited for Junior to say something more. When he did not, she took a deep breath and then said, “I suppose that between a child and a parent, there is something . . . special. At least,” she added, “I feel that way. So, since he is my father, it’s important that I go back.”
“Okay, Mama,” said Junior. “Get to your point.”
“Can’t you show a little respect for my feelings?”
“Sorry. What is it?”
“Well,” said Poppy, working hard to keep her anger down, “as I said, I’ll be going back. Leaving tomorrow morning. But your papa and I don’t think I should take the whole family.” Poppy hesitated but then
said, “Junior, I thought I’d ask you to come along with me. Just you. I’d enjoy your company. And it would be good to have someone with me when I came back. Traveling alone through Dimwood can be risky. What do you think?”
“You mean you need me to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” said Poppy, struggling to hold back hot tears.
Junior was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Can Mephitis come?”
“Mephitis?” cried Poppy, taken aback.
“Yeah, Mephitis. What’s wrong with that?”
“Why should he come?”
“I told you: he’s my best friend.”
“But I thought it would be only the two of us. . . .”
“Hey, Mama, I’m not going unless he can come.”
Poppy stared at him. “Not even for . . . me?”
“Nope.”
“Fine,” said Poppy, swallowing her disappointment. “It’s a deal. I look forward to getting to know your friend.”
Wiping away a tear as she went, Poppy joined the others. Aunt Lilly was telling the rapt children stories about what Poppy was like when she was much younger—how sweet and easy she was.
Rye drew Poppy aside. “What did Junior say?”
“I guess he said yes.”
“Only guess?”
“He’ll come, but only if Mephitis can come with us.”
“Mephitis?”
“I said yes.”
“But . . . why?”
“It just . . . feels like the right thing to do.”
Rye sighed. “Why did we name him Ragweed Junior? Maybe we shouldn’t have.”
“Rye, you remember: as soon as he was born, he acted different from the others, doing things his way. Just like Ragweed.”
“Maybe a little too different for his own good,” said Rye.
Later that night Poppy told Lilly that Junior would travel with them. She didn’t have the heart to mention Mephitis.
“Forgive me,” said Lilly. “Which one is Junior?”
“The one . . . the one who’s dyed black.”
“Oh. Poppy, why did he do that?”
“He wants to look like his friend.”
“Who is his friend?”
“Mephitis. A . . . skunk.”
“A skunk!”
“Lilly,” said Poppy, “I like to respect my children’s choices.”
“Is Junior his whole name?”
“It’s Ragweed Junior.”
“What I remember about Ragweed is how obnoxious he was. Always asking questions. Never satisfied with anything.”
“Lilly, Junior is a good mouse.”
Lilly sniffed. “Papa never liked Ragweed. Or porcupines.”
“Let’s not talk about that,” said Poppy.
“Poppy,” said Lilly, “you do know Papa has never gotten over your leaving Gray House.”
Poppy drew herself up. “Well, I have.”
Lilly was silent for a moment. “Poppy, you should know that with . . . Junior looking that way—and with that name—Papa might get all stirred up.”
“I can’t help that.”
“But Poppy,” said Lilly, “you can. Your Rye is very . . . pleasant. And your children are very . . . nice. If a bit . . . excitable.”
“Lilly,” said Poppy, “is there anything about my family you like?”
“Pipsissewa—do I have that name right?—is very cute.”
“Lilly, everything will be fine,” said Poppy, not sure she meant it.
Feeling the need for some fresh air, she asked Rye to take a walk with her. As they strolled in the night air, she repeated her talk with Lilly.
“Oh, Rye,” she said, “I know perfectly well I don’t respect Junior’s choices. And I must admit, I’m already regretting this trip. It makes me very uneasy.”
“Why?”
“Because,” said Poppy, “Lilly has reminded me of something.”
“What’s that?”
“How badly I got along with my parents.”
CHAPTER 6
Junior and His Friend
AFTER POPPY LEFT HIM, Junior lay on his bed of chips for a while. His mother had made him angry—again. She never noticed that he was no longer a baby, that he had changed, grown older. Agitated, he got up and headed out of the snag.
“Hey, Junior, where you going?” his sister Verbena called.
“None of your business.”
“Bet I do know where you’re going,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “To see Mephitis. Which is all you ever do.”
Junior gave her a dirty look and hurried away, heading for the path that would take him to Mephitis’s house. It was dark, but he knew the path well. Even so, he went slowly, trying to push away his annoyance. He resented the fact that his mother had asked him—and him alone—to go with her when she went to visit her family. He was sure they would not like him. He could tell Aunt Lilly didn’t like him just from the way she looked at him. Probably because he had dyed himself. Too bad for her. Well, he had no intention of liking them, either.
The thing was, whenever Poppy talked about her family—which wasn’t often—she mostly mentioned things she had done with her brothers and sisters, or her cousins. Rarely did she say anything about her parents. Or herself. She seemed to have had some kind of problem with them, not that Junior knew what it was. Probably some stupid thing.
It was not like that with his papa. Rye often talked fondly about his family. They had even made a few trips to visit them. Rye’s old riverside home was fun, with plenty to do. Some of those cousins were cool.
Poppy, however, came from someplace outside Dimwood Forest, somewhere called Gray House. As far as Junior was concerned, the world beyond the forest had to be weird. Why would anyone want to live there? He was sure he would hate it. What’s more, Poppy’s parents were probably very old. Junior didn’t like old mice, finding them creepy and crabby.
He stopped in his tracks. Suddenly he knew why Poppy had asked him to go along: she didn’t trust him. Taking him along was some kind of punishment for being what he was. Which meant she was treating him like a baby. Junior felt his anger rising again, but with it came a plan.
When they got to that Gray House, he and Mephitis would do outrageous stuff, stuff so big and so bad, that family would never forget. It would serve them—and his mother—right.
As he approached Mephitis’s house, he could smell his friend. It was a pretty strong smell, something Junior admired a lot. You always knew when Mephitis was coming. But what he liked best was that the skunk was so sure of himself. Mephitis always did what he wanted. No one told him what he could or could not do. He never complained about his parents—never even talked about them.
“Yo, skunk,” called Junior as Mephitis came into view.
“Hey,” said Mephitis. Compared to Junior, the skunk was large, with thick, black fur and a wide, white stripe that ran from his ears to his large and bushy tail. His pointed snout, ending in his small, black nose, was constantly sniffing. Short legs made him waddle when he walked, which he did slowly and deliberately. As for his eyes, they were very bright, very much on the alert, as if always on the lookout for anything bad that might come his way.
“Where you going?” Junior asked him.
“Your place.”
“What’s happening?”
“Nothing.”
“Same with me,” said Junior. “It’s so boring around here.”
“Same old same old,” agreed Mephitis.
“Hey, guess what?” said Junior.
“What?”
“My old mouse has to go visit her family, and she says I have to go with her.”
“How come?”
“She doesn’t trust me.”
“For how long?”
“Not sure,” said Junior. “But I said I’d go on only one condition.”
“Yeah, what?”
“You come with us.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
>
The skunk fluffed his tail. “Sick,” he said.
“Really sick,” agreed Junior. “The thing is, my mother is so boring. I mean she does nothing. Like, she’s what? A mother? And there’s her sister Lilly. She came to get Mama, so if I went I’d have to go with two old people. Bor-ing. And this place they are going, it’s going to be pathetic.”
“Rucks to be you.”
“Exactly. But if you came, it would be wicked. We could do sick stuff. My mother’s family, they don’t live in Dimwood, so they don’t know nothing. We’d teach them a few things.”
“That okay with your mama?” asked Mephitis. “I mean, my coming?”
“I didn’t exactly ask her,” said Junior with a grin. “I told her. What about your parents? Do you have to ask them?”
“Hey, mouse, you know me: I do what I want.”
“Then you’ll come?”
Mephitis lifted a paw. Junior slapped it.
“Be ugly!” said Junior.
“Better than ugly, dude,” said Mephitis. “Bad.”
CHAPTER 7
Leaving
NEXT MORNING POPPY and Rye were up before daylight, going over family arrangements and special problems: Pipsissewa had an earache. Scrub Oak had to be reminded about his chores. Walnut needed to study his lessons more than he had been doing. Locust should be urged not to stay up too late reading the stars. Most importantly: when did Poppy hope she would return?
“As soon as possible,” she said. “I promise.”
“I’ll be right here—waiting,” said Rye. “Are you really taking Mephitis?” he asked.
“If he’s here on time. If not, I’ll go without him.”
“And if Junior then decides not to go?”
“At least I’ve tried.”
“I know you have,” said Rye, giving her a nuzzle. “Actually, I think Junior went off to fetch Mephitis.”
“I suppose I should have spoken to that skunk’s parents,” said Poppy.
“Too late now. But maybe you’d better tell Ereth you’re leaving. You know how much he worries about you.”
Agreeing, Poppy went down the path to Ereth’s log. “Ereth!” she called. “Are you home?”
“Asparagus teeth!” came a reply from deep inside the log. “Of course I’m home. Where else would I be?”
