The Tiny Hero of Ferny Creek Library

by Linda Bailey

  “Oh . . . my . . . gosh,” said Eddie finally. “She’s awful!”

  “Worse than awful,” said Min, still trembling from the death of the fly. “That was downright gruesome! She’s the most grisly Squisher I have ever seen.”

  “A Grischer!” said Eddie.

  “Exactly,” said Min. “A Grischer.”

  But Eddie was still struggling to understand. “She wants to change everything. How can that happen? Won’t the other Squishers stop her?”

  “The Principal tried to argue. You heard him, Eddie. He was like a cricket facing a praying mantis.”

  “A mantis,” said Eddie. “Yes, that’s what she’s like. Tall and strange and scary.”

  Min shuddered. “A mantis uses camouflage to hide itself. Did you notice that about her? She has no more color than a moth.”

  “She’s stealthy, too,” said Eddie. “Just like a mantis.”

  “We’ll have to be very, very careful,” whispered Aunt Min.

  CHAPTER

  12

  When the Grischer returned to the Library minutes later, she was alone. Eddie and Min missed her entrance entirely. No KA-BANG of the Library door. No THUD, THUD, THUD of her feet.

  Suddenly she was just there. Sitting in the Librarian’s chair. Eddie watched her take a phone from her bag. Sunshine from the skylight reflected off her glasses. He couldn’t see her eyes.

  “Get down,” whispered Min from behind. “Think of that poor fly!”

  Eddie gulped and dropped low.

  They heard beeps. Then a faint ring.

  “Hello, Robert?” said the Grischer. “It’s me. Estelle.”

  “Her brother,” whispered Min. “The superintendent.”

  “Yes,” said the Grischer. “I’m here at Ferny Creek—and not a moment too soon. You’re right, this library’s a money pit. It’s glassed in like a terrarium. No wonder the heating bills are so high. The sooner we get these windows blocked off, the better.”

  Min gripped Eddie’s leg tightly.

  “The Principal?” said the Grischer. “Not a problem. He’s making whiny noises, of course. Everyone loves the library, boohoo. He even went on about the view. Puh! What do these kids need with a view? Did we have a view? Did we have Winnie-the-Pooh and nursery rhymes?”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “Don’t worry, I can handle the Principal. I’ll start by weeding the book collection. That won’t be hard. Almost every book in here is a weed. I’ll clear them out gradually. He won’t even notice.”

  Min shuddered.

  The Grischer was listening to her brother again.

  “I agree, Robert,” she answered. “This room is perfect—bigger than any of the others we’ve looked at. With the windows blocked off and the books cleared out, it will make an excellent testing center for your new district testing program. All we need really are tables and chairs. On days when there’s no testing, we’ll turn off the heat and lights. Save a lot of money.”

  The Grischer said good-bye and put away her phone. There was a tiny squeak of the chair as she stood up, then a click at the door. Other than that, her departure was silent.

  “At least we know the worst,” said Min, her voice shaky. “The Grischers are going to close the Library.”

  “Really? Can they do that?” Eddie was hoping he had misunderstood.

  “Yes, they can. They’re being sly with Mr. Steadman, but that’s the plan. They’re going to turn this wonderful room into . . . a testing center. Most of the time, it will be empty. Dark, cold, and empty.”

  “No books?” said Eddie.

  “No books.” Aunt Min gazed upward. “The skylight will go, too. The story-time chair, the comfy couch, the story-time carpet. Even the windows. Everything will go.”

  Eddie tried to think of something to say.

  But he couldn’t.

  When the Grischer returned, just a short while later, she was carrying a large cardboard box. Eddie wondered what it was for.

  Then, suddenly, he got it.

  “Hide!” he yelled. Grabbing his aunt, he half pushed, half carried her to the back of the tray.

  Clinging together, they watched as the pale fingers began clearing off the desk. Things disappeared into the cardboard box. The bobbing duck. The photo. The bowl of golden stars.

  And then—as Eddie and Min watched in horror—the Grischer reached for their tray.

  “Hang on!” cried Min.

  Up went the tray with a sickening lurch. Eddie was thrown backward. He landed on his aunt.

  At that moment, a cheerful voice called from the doorway. “Are you expecting us?”

  The tray hovered, tilting at a perilous angle. Eddie and Min clung desperately to the side.

  “We’re Kindergarten B,” said the voice. “It’s our book exchange time!”

  The tray wobbled. Eddie and Min slid wildly into the loose papers. Then down went the tray—BANG!—back onto the desk.

  “Bring the children in,” said the Grischer. “Are their hands clean?”

  “Oh, Aunt Min, this is terrible.” Eddie’s head was in a spin. “We’re in such big trouble!”

  “Courage, Eddie, this is no time to lose heart. We need a new hiding place, quickly! Before she comes back.”

  After a hurried discussion, they agreed that Eddie would go on a scouting mission.

  So once again he stepped into the open, alone. His huge eyes gleamed. His antennae explored the air. Where were the kindergartners? More important, where was the Grischer? Not only was she hard to see and hear, she was also crafty and scheming. Plus, she obviously hated bugs. A deadly combination.

  There! She was busy with the children in the picture book area. Eddie could focus on his mission—a new, safe hideout, close enough for Min to walk to.

  A voice in his head said, “Impossible!”

  He glanced around. Nothing on the desk would work. The Grischer was going to dump all the Librarian’s possessions into the cardboard box, and who knew where that box would end up?

  They needed a place that the Grischer wouldn’t notice. . . .

  There was a drawer.

  It was small and narrow, in the front of the desk, facing the Librarian’s chair. And it was open—not very wide, just a crack—but wide enough for a bug to slip through. Eddie darted inside.

  He looked around. The drawer was shallow, and clearly it hadn’t been used much. Nothing there but a few pencil stubs, an old dried-up pen, and a cotton ball. Plus the usual pad of yellow stickies.

  Looking good, thought Eddie.

  But not perfect.

  The Grischer might open the drawer to clean it.

  He crawled to the rear of the drawer. There appeared to be extra space behind a wooden divider. He peeked over . . . and there it was. A secret compartment. Or maybe not exactly secret. But there was certainly a separate little section at the very back of the drawer. It was partly covered by a piece of wood that could act, if you happened to be extremely small, as a roof.

  Eddie allowed himself one quick “Yes!”

  CHAPTER

  13

  “Perfect!” said Min when she saw the secret compartment of the drawer. “Exactly what we need.”

  Eddie smiled.

  It had been hard to hide his fear as he helped Min to the drawer. She was woefully slow, and the desktop was much more exposed now with so many things removed. Remembering the unfortunate fly, Eddie had to stop himself from yelling “HURRY!” as she tottered along.

  “I feel so much safer here,” she said as she settled in. “Quite cozy, really. The little roof makes it almost like a house.” Perched on the cotton ball that Eddie had fetched from the front of the drawer, she looked surprisingly comfortable.

  “We even have a bit of light,” said Eddie.

  Beneath the “roof” of the secret compartment, there was a thin crack that allowed light in. It was only, as Eddie said, a bit of light, because even the main drawer opening wasn’t large. But for bugs with night vision
, it was enough.

  “Couldn’t be better,” said Min. “I’m a very lucky bug.”

  It wasn’t long before they both felt grateful for the drawer. When the kindergartners left, the Grischer started cleaning the huge desk in earnest. It was as if she were trying to erase all memory of Ms. Laurel. The air grew thick with sprays and cleansers. But hidden away in their secret compartment, Eddie and Min were spared the worst.

  “Come sit,” said Aunt Min, patting a spot beside her cotton ball. “I’ll tell you a story.”

  “A book story?” asked Eddie.

  Min nodded. “Have I ever told you about The Borrowers?”

  “Who are they?”

  “Tiny people,” said Min, “who live under floors and behind walls in the houses of the big Squishers.”

  “Ooh,” said Eddie, already entranced. “Are they as tiny as us?”

  “Not quite,” said Min.

  “Do they squish?”

  “Goodness, no. The Borrowers understand what it’s like to be little, even if they look like Squishers.”

  “Why do they live under the floor?”

  Min sighed. “Can’t you guess? They hide from the Squishers, just as we do. And like us, they are often in danger. All they want, really, is a safe home.”

  “Ooh,” said Eddie again. “I wish I could read that book.”

  “It’s here in the Library,” said Min. “For now, anyway. But listen! I can tell you some of it.”

  So she told Eddie about the time the Borrowers were imprisoned by some nasty Squishers in an attic, and the only way to escape was by balloon. It was a small adventure, like the Borrowers themselves. But for a reader of Eddie’s size, it was perfect.

  Time passed quickly. Min had just finished her story when the last school bell rang. BRRRRRING!

  “Good,” said Min. “Let’s hope you-know-who will leave now!”

  And as if she had heard, the Grischer slipped away almost immediately. There was barely a click of the door.

  The moment she was gone, Eddie boosted Min up the front panel of the drawer. Together the two bugs looked out.

  The top of the desk was unrecognizable.

  “There’s nothing left!” said Eddie.

  An empty expanse of wood lay before them. Nothing but ink blotches, tea stains, and the dents and scars of librarians past. Not one single item to remind them of Ms. Laurel. Only the huge, dark computer remained, looming above the desk.

  Aunt Min stared at the desk in dismay. “Oh, my.”

  Then her gaze moved slowly toward the bookshelves, and her expression grew sad. Eddie knew what she was thinking. She was imagining the books gone, too—and with them, all their secret worlds.

  For a long time, she stared out at Library, still and quiet. Then, as Eddie watched, she reached into the room with her antennae. Her whole body quivered, and from deep inside came a low mournful thrum.

  “Aunt Min?” said Eddie after a while. “What are you doing?”

  “Just . . . feeling it. Sensing. Remembering. Wishing I could walk through the Library one last time.”

  Glancing at her nephew, she shook her head. “Oh, Eddie, I wanted you to feel it, too.”

  “Feel what?”

  “The magic.” She looked around again.

  Suddenly she stamped a tiny foot.

  “I don’t understand!” she cried, her voice hoarse. “It makes me so mad! How foolish these Squishers are to close a library! Where will the children go to find stories? To experience, with their own eyes and ears and minds, the greatest adventures ever imagined? Oh, Eddie, I’ve spent such thrilling hours in this room. I’ve seen the magic. Where will the reading magic happen if there’s no Library?”

  He could only nod.

  “I feel so helpless,” continued Min. “How I wish I had a voice loud enough for that Grischer to hear. Wouldn’t I give her a piece of my mind! Wouldn’t I tell her a thing or two!”

  “I’d love to see that,” said Eddie.

  And for a moment, he could actually picture it—Aunt Min giving the Grischer a brisk scolding, telling her in no uncertain terms about books and libraries, and why they were important.

  “Ah, well.” Suddenly Min sagged. “Silly dream, isn’t it? Who’d listen to an old bug like me? Are you hungry, dear?”

  As soon as she said it, Eddie realized that he was very hungry indeed. It had been a long time since his last meal. He scooted down the desk leg, looking for dinner.

  There wasn’t any! The longer he looked, the more surprised he grew. Yes, there had been only one class today, but there were always at least a couple of children with food dribbling out of their pockets—even if it was just yesterday’s cookie. It wasn’t till he glanced at the walls that he understood.

  The Library posters were gone. The ones that said “READ!” with pictures of dogs wearing glasses, or dinosaurs tucked into bed, or famous Squisher athletes — all reading books. In some places, there was nothing but a bare spot and tiny pinholes. But here and there, a new sign had been put up.

  FOOD-FREE ZONE!

  THIS MEANS YOU!

  Clearly, the Grischer was serious about her no-food rule. All Eddie could find was a dried-up piece of cough drop that had been stepped on at least five times.

  “Gag,” said Min when she saw it.

  “It was stuck to the floor,” said Eddie.

  “I can tell. Sorry, dear. I know you did your best.”

  “It’s just not the same out there, Aunt Min.”

  “I know. Never mind, I have an idea.”

  “Tell me,” said Eddie.

  “You’ll have to wait till the Cleaner moves through. But after that, if you promise to stay out of trouble—”

  “I do!”

  “You can go to the teachers’ room.”

  “The teachers have their own room?”

  “Yes. They go there when they want a rest from the children. They sit and talk and eat.”

  “Eat?” said Eddie. “YAY!”

  Now that he had a meal to look forward to, it was hard to wait. But he could already hear the rrrrrumble of the Cleaner’s cart coming down the hall. This was followed very quickly by the KA-BANG of the Library door opening. Soon the vacuum let out a ROARRRR and began its work.

  “Just one more thing,” said Min when the noise finally died away.

  “What?” said Eddie.

  “There could be a mouse in the teachers’ room.”

  “A mouse? Are you kidding? You mean, like Stuart Little?”

  “I wish,” said Min. “No, a real mouse. A wild mouse.”

  “WHAT?” said Eddie.

  “Well . . . probably not. Listen, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I heard some teachers talking, but that was weeks ago. I’m sure it’s gone by now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Listen, the Cleaner’s leaving the building. Are you ready?”

  “Aunt Min? You’re sure about the mouse?”

  “Eddie! Stop worrying. Go!”

  Well, as you learned just a few pages ago, when someone told Eddie to “stop worrying,” it had pretty much the opposite effect on him. The walk to the teachers’ room was long. By the time he got there, he felt deeply uneasy. After all, a mouse is no small matter! Or rather, it is a small matter . . . but not if you’re the size of a button yourself.

  Eddie stood outside the teachers’ room, wavering. Fear ordered him to retreat. Hunger begged him to—please, please, please—go find some dinner.

  Hunger won.

  The door to the teachers’ room was closed, but there was a generous gap between the door and the floor. After a few last worrisome thoughts in which a mouse’s front teeth featured prominently, Eddie slipped under the door.

  Almost immediately, he smelled food. Even in the middle of the night, even after vacuuming, the teachers’ room smelled wonderfully tasty. Eddie had never encountered so many interesting odors at once.

  Could one of those smells be . . . mouse?

  There wer
e tables in the teachers’ room and lots of chairs. Up against the wall stood a long black leather couch, bigger than the one in the Library but not as comfy looking. A tiny light had been left on over the sink. Eddie took it all in, wondering how carefully the Cleaner had vacuumed this room.

  Not very, it turned out. Thinking about it, Eddie wasn’t surprised. The Cleaner was tall and had no antennae, not even short ones. So of course he couldn’t sense what Eddie could sense. The area under the couch, for example. Eddie could tell that the Cleaner had not pushed his vacuum cleaner there in a very long time.

  “Wow!” said Eddie. He crept forward.

  The under-couch zone was magnificent! A vision of plenty such as he’d never seen. Over here, a sweet green pea. There, a chunk of carrot. A blueberry, a fuzzy piece of cheese. Chocolate cookie crumbs everywhere! There was even a bit of liver sausage which, being a vegetarian, Eddie walked right past.

  In the end, he chose the blueberry. It was huge, but as he had already learned from his raisin, roundish things were easy to roll. Even more important, the berry was juicy and plump. Eddie knew it would be delicious.

  Aunt Min loves fruit, he thought, pushing the blueberry across the room. This was going to be great!

  It was a bit of a squeeze, getting the berry under the door. But out in the hallway, it rolled very well. So well, in fact, that it started to roll away.

  “Stop!” cried Eddie as it made a break for a classroom.

  “Slow down!” he yelled as it barreled past the Library door.

  Eventually, he got it into the Library. He pushed it deep under the librarian’s desk—far from the edges where it might be seen, and away from where the Grischer would put her feet. There were some cords under there that belonged to the computer, but he managed to get around them. The light was dim, but even so, as Eddie parked his berry, he spotted something he hadn’t noticed before.

  A pad of yellow stickies.

  “Hah!” muttered Eddie. It must have fallen off the desk. He felt heartened to see that something still remained of the Librarian—here, as well as in the drawer. She certainly did love stickies!

  Steadying the berry with his front feet, Eddie dug right in. He chomped firmly into it with his mandibles, gobbling down his own dinner before carving out a large chunk for Aunt Min. The berry tasted every bit as delicious as it looked. Purple juice dripped from his jaws, thorax, and feet.