6
“Now, let’s review the Essential Squirrel Skills,” Mama announced.
All four children were crowded into the nest for Squirrel School. All of them were listening carefully. All except one. Revver’s eyes were glued to the racetrack. A VERY exciting race was happening!
Revver did not like Squirrel School, anyway. It was SO SLOW.
“Recite,” commanded Mama. She looked very serious.
“Scurrying!” cried Bounce while he popped up and down.
“Yes, correct. Please do try to sit still, dear. You’re shaking the nest.”
“Storing!” squeaked Sprite. She held a nut high above her head in one paw. She twirled on one toe and put the nut right into the hole in the tree. Of course she knew the answer; she always did.
“Lovely!” said Mama, clapping.
“Eating!” said Farty, with a pile of nuts on his belly. As he spoke, a loud squeak emerged from his underside, and a horrible stink filled the air. Bounce and Sprite groaned and turned their noses toward fresh air.
Mama sighed.
Sprite sighed, too. “Brothers,” she said under her breath.
“That’s correct, Farty,” Mama said. “And what about nuts?”
“Always smell them to make sure they are eggable.”
“Not ‘eggable,’ dear, ‘edible,’” said Mama. “That means safe to eat. You’re doing very nicely on practicing your words.”
“Mama, may we pleeease be dismissed? We’ve been sitting still for such a long time!” said Bounce, who was definitely not sitting still. They had been gathered for only about five minutes—but that felt like an entire day to Bounce. Revver looked up, grateful and hopeful for the request.
“Patience, please,” said Mama. “Now, what if there’s a storm?”
Revver sighed and went back to concentrating on the race.
“Tuck into a hole in the sturdiest tree!” bounced Bounce, still bouncing.
“A bear or fox or coyote?” asked Mama.
“Run up a tree!”
“Hawk?”
“Hide!”
“Last resort?” asked Mama.
“Scratch, bite, and fight!” they all said. All except one.
“What about running along power lines?”
“Be careful! You might get slapped with a zap!” At the word “zap,” Revver rubbed his still-sore paw.
“Perfect,” said Mama. “Now for the most important: Should you go near cars?”
“No!” cried Bounce, who, looking very serious, had finally stopped bouncing.
“Never!” squeaked Sprite, glancing sideways at Revver.
“Never EVER!” said Farty.
“Because cars are . . .”
“DANGEROUS!” they all chimed in unison. All except one.
“Correct!” said Mama. “And if you get near that . . .”
“You’ll end up FLAT!”
Mama looked proudly at her children. All except one. Once again, one of them was not paying attention. Once again, his face was turned down toward that racetrack, staring at all those dangerous cars!
Mama sighed. Since the four squirrels were born almost six weeks ago, they had all been good students. Well, all except one. Three of them had studied carefully and worked hard to learn the Essential Skills. But Revver paid no attention to anything except the action on the track below the nest.
From the beginning, Revver had been different from any other baby Mama Squirrel had ever had, in all of her many litters. When Revver was very tiny, he had been fascinated with anything fast. Unlike his siblings, who were annoyed or even scared, Revver watched with total fascination and complete delight when bees and birds—or even a stray acorn falling from the higher branches—zoomed by his face. When he was fussy, he wouldn’t stand for cuddling and gentle rocking. The only way Mama Squirrel found to calm him was by carrying him tightly in her arms and running with him as fast as she could, until she was panting and exhausted. When storms approached and lightning struck and the wind howled, Revver’s siblings would tremble and huddle down tightly into the nest. But Revver lifted his head high, loving the noise and the feeling of the wind blowing back his ears and rushing through his whiskers.
And once he was big enough to see down out of the nest and notice the track below, Revver was obsessed with, of all things, car racing!
Mama Squirrel’s family had lived in this grove for generations, long before the track was even built. Rumors and horrible stories about problems between squirrels and cars . . . well, those went back many, many years. Every once in a while, a squirrel would venture out too far toward the road and, oh! Mama Squirrel shuddered when she thought about it! That never ended well for the squirrel.
And then the track was built. Many trees were knocked down to make room for it, and then the cars came closer to the grove than ever before. That made the squirrels in the grove hate cars even more. Everyone agreed that the awful, loud, smelly track was trouble. But, over the years, more squirrel generations came who never had known life before the track. So they had all learned to simply ignore it.
Mama Squirrel had spent many seasons in this tree, overlooking the track, but none of her other children had paid any attention to it. They all just ignored it, the way she’d learned to do. For the life of her, Mama Squirrel could not understand Revver’s fascination with that track and those cars! Mama, like the others, just DID NOT UNDERSTAND.
7
While his siblings learned about finding food and staying safe, Revver learned about cars. Instead of watching Mama’s demonstrations, Revver watched every practice, every qualifying trial, and every race. The roar of the cars made him giddy. Watching the crews working—changing tires, fueling the car, and then sprinting out of the way so the car could screech back into the race—made him so excited that his insides buzzed.
Instead of listening to his mama’s lessons, Revver hung on the track announcer’s every word from the loudspeaker. He strained his ears to hear anything he could from the shouting fans in the bleachers. The smells of fuel and burning rubber, the heat off the track, the blur of colors and sounds and engines and cheering, all happening at lightning speed—it was incredible. Revver was OBSESSED. If a tiny, young squirrel could be in love, Revver was, for sure, in love with auto racing. It was all just so FAST!
Now, at that very moment, the excitement of the race below overtook him. Without warning, Revver inhaled deeply, opened his mouth wide, and yelled out, “Vr-vr-vr-VRRROOOOM!”
Startled, his three siblings jumped and squealed in unison, “Please. Stop. Doing. That!”
“Ugh. That is so un-NOY-run!” muttered Farty, with a mouthful of food, as another stink bomb snuck out from under his tail and filled the nest with putrid air.
“Annoying!” Sprite corrected. Now she was annoyed with both of them. “Brothers!” she grumbled again.
“Revver!” Mama hollered, and Revver jumped and faced her. “Have you been paying attention?!” Mama demanded.
Revver quickly nodded, as best as a squirrel can nod.
She continued. “Okay, then, Revver, this question is for you: name an animal, any animal at all, that is dangerous.”
Revver stared at his mother. This was a simple question, but his mind had been so filled with racing that it was now completely blank. He couldn’t think of anything!
“This is NOT a hard question, Revver. Just name any animal that is a threat to us.”
Still, Revver’s mind was empty. Think! Think! he told himself as he began to panic.
Leaning toward him as if she were stretching, Sprite whispered as loudly as she could into Revver’s ear without being heard by Mama, “Dog!”
“Dove!” Revver said proudly.
Sprite rolled her eyes. “Brothers!” she whispered again.
“Dove?!” Mama yelled. “Did you say ‘dove’?!”
“Ummm . . . yes?” said Revver, much less confident.
“Wrong! A dove is a sweet little bird. It’s not dangerous at all
! Oh, Revver, where do you get these ideas?”
Revver looked at Sprite to apologize, shrugging. He felt a pang inside. He really hated disappointing Sprite. She rolled her eyes and sighed again.
“Okay, let’s just try another one,” Mama said. “This is very, VERY important: How do you know if water is safe to drink?”
“Ummm, would you please repeat the question?” Revver’s mind was now very much focused on a terribly exciting three-car race for the lead.
Mama Squirrel sighed. The other three children quietly said, “Uh-oh.”
“How do you know if water is safe to drink?” said Mama, MUCH more loudly.
Revver stared at Sprite. Sprite stared at Revver. She concentrated hard, trying to send him the answer through her mind.
It didn’t work.
“Hmm . . . I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t remember.” He tried to face his mother, but his eyes wandered back over his shoulder—straining to see if all three cars had managed to make it through the turn side by side.
She sighed and shook her head. “REVVER! I’ve told you this before: Your obsession with that track! That SOUND you make! Those dangerous CARS! Nothing good can come of it! NOTHING!”
All the other children stared at Revver. They agreed with Mama! Revver snuck peeks at the track. He just couldn’t stop himself.
This lecture was not new for Revver. He had heard it so many times he could recite it by heart. He TRIED to be a good student. He didn’t like disappointing Mama and his siblings (and especially Sprite), but racing was just so . . . wonderful. And even though he’d tried to explain SO MANY TIMES, no one understood.
“Now,” Mama continued, “you are all close to being fifty days old. I simply cannot let you leave the nest unless you have learned the Essential Skills.”
Sprite raised her hand. “Mama, what exactly happens if we haven’t learned the Essential Skills? Do we have to stay in the nest for fifty more days?”
No one had ever asked this question before.
“No, of course not, dear. You cannot stay here. I will have more children later this year, and I’ll need this nest for the new babies.”
“So we go no matter what?!” asked Bounce, bouncing with excitement. He loved the thought of being free to jump and climb all day, without having to sit still during Squirrel School.
“Well,” Mama said, “I would need to double-check at the next Teachers Meeting to be sure, but I seem to remember that . . . yes, I believe . . . if you don’t learn the Essential Squirrel Skills. . . . I might have to eat you.”
Four small squirrels gasped in unison. No one moved or blinked. Even Bounce was still. Even Revver was paying attention now!
“D-d-did you say eat us?!” stuttered Farty, who, for once, had stopped eating.
“No, I said it’s a possibility,” Mama said in her matter-of-fact way. “Again, I would need to consult with the elder squirrel teachers to be sure, but I believe that’s just the way it’s always been done. OF COURSE, I can’t send you into the wilderness if you can’t care for yourselves. You wouldn’t survive! What kind of mother would do that?”
“But, but . . . what kind of mother would eat us?!” cried Sprite.
Mama looked at their terrified little faces. “Oh! Don’t worry, dears!” She tried to soothe them. “This is just how things are done in nature. But I’ve had many, MANY babies, and I have not had to eat any of them. Not a single one, ever! I’m sure it will all turn out fine!”
Then she looked at Revver and tilted her head. “At least I hope so.”
All of Mama’s babies stared at her with full attention. All except one. Revver was back to watching the race.
8
A race was starting. The humans had already taken their places in the stands, and Revver sat in the nest, ready and eager to watch. But he couldn’t see clearly; everything looked so far away, and a thick fog covered his view. He was so frustrated that he couldn’t see better! He couldn’t understand how they could have a race in so much fog. It was dangerous! How could the drivers see? As he squinted to get a better view, the announcer suddenly called out through the loudspeaker, “Drivers, EAT YOUR SQUIRREL!”
Engines roared up, but Revver was startled. “Wait. That’s not right,” he said. Then he yelled, “That’s not it at all! It’s ‘Drivers, start your engines!’ You need to say it right!”
The announcer’s voice boomed again. “Drivers, EAT YOUR SQUIRREL!”
Everything still looked so fuzzy and foggy that Revver felt dizzy. He was very frustrated by the fog and the strange announcement. He started yelling more loudly, “You need to stop the race. No one can see!”
“Drivers, EAT YOUR SQUIRREL!”
“Stop! That’s not what you say! That’s not right! That’s NOT RIGHT! STOP SAYING THAT!”
“Stop saying what?” asked a sleepy Sprite, snuggled up at Revver’s feet.
Revver jolted awake and sat up. He was breathing hard.
It was night. Everything was calm and quiet except for crickets chirping and a light wind rustling the leaves. His mother and his brothers were tucked into the nest with them, and Revver could hear them all breathing peacefully against his own panting.
“I just had an awful dream,” Revver whispered.
Sprite nudged toward him. “You were yelling in your sleep. What was the dream?” she asked.
Still shaken, Revver recited every detail he could remember. Sprite patted his shoulder and rubbed his ears to calm him as she listened to every word. When Revver was finished, they were both quiet for a little while. Then Sprite held Revver’s paw and looked her little brother squarely in the eyes. “Revver, I think I understand what that dream was trying to tell you. Do you think you understand what it means? Think about it, Revver. Do you think your dream might be telling you something—something important? Something that you need to do?”
Revver sat quietly for a minute. “Yes. I think I do. I’m pretty sure I know exactly what that dream was trying to tell me!”
This was the breakthrough Sprite had been hoping for! Mama’s threat had gotten through to him! Finally, Revver would end his silly obsession with speed and the cars and the track and focus on mastering his Essential Squirrel Skills with the rest of them.
They settled in to go back to sleep. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Sprite could sleep soundly, without all the worry about Revver.
9
Sprite was still asleep when Revver dangled something in front of her face. “Look!” he said, excited.
She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up to focus. He held some kind of strange contraption and was waving it back and forth. As she looked more closely, she could see two acorn tops, joined together by a thick stem.
“What is it?” She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her paws, confused.
“Watch!” Revver said. He held the acorn tops, which were hollowed out, up to his eyes and looked through them.
“I still don’t understand. What is it? What does it do?”
“I can see the track SO MUCH BETTER through these! I thought about what you said, about figuring out what the dream was trying to tell me, and I realized: I ALWAYS wish I could see the races better!” And, sure enough, Revver had made himself a perfect pair of tiny binoculars for watching the track. Now he would not miss a single, wonderful thing!
Sprite shot up. In a split second, she went from groggy to angry. “THAT’S what you think the dream was trying to tell you?!”
“Sure. What else could it be? It always bothered me SO MUCH that I couldn’t get a better view from up here.”
“Revver! OH MY WORD! The dream was trying to tell you that you needed to stop with all this racing and track nonsense and focus on Squirrel School! Because if you don’t, Mama can’t send you off on your own when you turn fifty days, and she might have to EAT YOU!”
“Don’t be silly, Sprite. Mama isn’t going to eat me.” Revver was very calm.
“What makes you so sure, smarty-pants
? Yesterday, she said, PLAIN. AS. DAY—”
“Sprite, when I watch the big humans coming and going from the track, they always say scary things to the little humans. They say things like, ‘If you don’t stop kicking your brother, we are turning around right now and going back to the car and going home!’ or, ‘If you don’t quit that terrible whining right now, we’re returning that nice new hat we just bought you.’
“But, Sprite, they never do it. It doesn’t matter whether the little human stops or doesn’t. It’s just a threat. They’re bluffing. Just like Mama: she’s BLUFFING. Sure, OTHER THINGS, like foxes and hawks, might want to eat us, but Mama would NEVER actually eat me! Jeez! And you always say I never learn anything important by watching the track . . . ”
“Revver, but . . . I mean, you . . . but . . . you need.” And then she stopped. “Oh, brother,” she said so quietly that only she could hear. She forced herself not to cry.
“Revver, we are NOT humans. We aren’t the same.”
“Please don’t remind me,” Revver said. Loving speed and cars would be so much more acceptable if he were not a squirrel. It would be so much easier to find someone who understands.
Revver had already put the acorns over his eyes to watch some cars driving onto the track. It was no use. Maybe Revver knew more than she did about big humans and little humans. But Sprite knew one thing for sure: Mama did not bluff.
10
The day started like most days. Revver, now with his new acorn binoculars firmly over his eyes, was totally absorbed in the track—the speeding cars, the sounds of engines and tires, the cheering of the crowd, the blare of the loudspeakers, the exciting BANG! of the occasional crash followed by the hold-your-breath GASP! of the crowd, the delicious smell of the car fumes.
When the announcer welcomed the humans and asked if they were ready for the race, Revver nodded frantically, as best as a squirrel can nod. As soon as he heard the horns trumpeting the national anthem, he sat, ready and eager with his paw over his heart, just like he had watched the humans do it. The announcer called out, “DRIVERS, START YOUR ENGINES!” Mama Squirrel and the other children covered their ears. Revver inhaled deeply and let out his own, “Vr-vr-vr-VRRROOOOM!” violently vibrating the nest and all the branches and leaves around it.
Revver the Speedway Squirrel Page 2
