By Friday it was raining and there was nothing left of the snow except a few fast-melting mounds. After school I was glad to get a ride to the animal shelter from Erika’s dad. I was surprised to find I was even looking forward to seeing the rats again.
Volunteers
We stepped into the small animal room and into the musty stink of animal bodies, urine and feces. The place definitely needed our help.
“Why don’t you two take the rats,” Mini said, pointing at Erika and me. “And you two”—she nodded at Mercedes and Annie—“can start over there.” She gestured toward the rabbit cage, then handed out garbage bags to all of us.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she barked as none of us moved.
Annie wrinkled her nose. Erika and I looked at each other, took a deep breath and started forward.
“Let’s start with Oscar,” I suggested.
As we approached his cage, Oscar scurried up to the roof of his cardboard house, sniffing the air.
“One of us should hold him while the other cleans the cage,” Erika said.
“Okay,” I agreed.
There was a pause. It was obvious we both wanted the holding job. Finally, Erika sighed.
“Go ahead,” she said resignedly. “I’ll clean this one if you do the next.”
I grinned at her and reached for the door on top of the cage. Oscar stretched his nose up to sniff my hand. Did he recognize me? I let him smell my fingers for a few seconds, then scratched the soft fur under his chin. He seemed to like it.
With both hands I took hold of Oscar’s small furry body and lifted him out of the cage.
“It’s all yours,” I said to Erika.
“Thanks. Thanks a lot,” she grumbled as she lifted the top off the cage, but I could tell she was joking.
I held Oscar against my chest, making a ledge for him to sit on with my left arm while I petted him with the other hand. He crawled along my arm to my wrist and poked his nose into the sleeve of my sweatshirt. His whiskers tickled.
Erika unclamped the metal top of Oscar’s cage and lifted it off the plastic cage bottom, then tilted the bottom section to dump the old wood shavings and damp newspaper bedding into her garbage bag. After that she washed and refilled the food and water dishes.
“Did any of you ask your parents about fostering one of the animals?” Mini asked as she looked over our work.
“Mine said yes,” Annie and Erika said at once.
“No pets allowed at our place,” Mercedes said, looking down at the floor, her voice glum. Then she looked up and grinned.
“We haven’t asked our landlord yet, but my parents think he won’t mind me having one small caged animal if it’s only for a few weeks,” she added triumphantly. She’d been faking the gloominess.
“That’s great!” Erika told her.
“They think a rat might be pushing it, though,” Mercedes admitted. “They said I should probably take a hamster.”
“That’s no problem,” Mini said.
I looked down at Oscar. The others were so lucky. Why couldn’t my parents be like theirs? I stroked the top of Oscar’s head, wondering what it would be like to take care of him every day.
“What about you?” Mini asked, turning to me.
I felt a dull ache in my chest, knowing I had to admit I was the only one who wasn’t allowed to foster a pet. Would one of the others take Oscar? The ache in my chest gave a little push, and before I realized what I was doing, my mouth opened and words leapt out.
“I can take Oscar.”
What had I said?
“Really?” Erika was excited. “Your parents said yes?”
I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. I suddenly felt hot.
“They won’t mind,” I said, thinking quickly. Could I really take him? “I can keep him in my bedroom. They won’t even know he’s there.”
Why not? It could work. Mom was catering that conference today. Dad wouldn’t be home till later. I just had to get the cage past Jenna and into my room.
I barely heard what the others said after that. My hands were sweating and my head was whirling. Oscar ran up my arm, twitching his nose like crazy, as if he could sense something was up. Erika nudged me.
“You can put him back in now,” she said, gesturing at Oscar’s clean, restocked cage.
I set Oscar onto the fresh wood shavings, and Erika put the cage top back on, securing the clips. I looked the cage over, thinking hard. It was way too big to hide in my backpack, but if Jenna was still practicing the piano when I got home, she wouldn’t notice anything. Once I got the cage in my room I could keep it on the floor where no one would see it from the door. I could hide it in my closet when I was out of my room and at school.
Oscar wouldn’t mind it in there, I hoped.
“Conner!” Erika nudged me again.
“Oh, sorry. What?”
“Your turn,” she said with a wave at the cage with the three female white rats.
Oscar
After we finished at the shelter, Erika’s dad drove us all home again. Beside me, Erika held the cage with the three white rats on her lap. In the backseat, Mercedes had the hamster and Annie had the rabbit. I had Oscar. I could hardly believe what I was doing.
“Thanks for the ride,” I called over my shoulder as I climbed out of the van in front of my house. I hoped my nervousness didn’t show.
As the van pulled away, I glanced stealthily left and right. No neighbors visible. No cars in the driveway in front of our house. No one in any of our windows. If anyone was looking, there would be no way of hiding Oscar’s cage. Mom and Dad weren’t home, and Jenna was probably practicing the piano, but if any of the neighbors saw me, they might say something to Mom or Dad. I hurried to the side gate, holding the cage between me and the house, hoping my body was at least partially shielding the cage from view.
Once I was behind the house, I relaxed a bit. At least the neighbors couldn’t see me now. But the hardest part was yet to come. My sweating hands slipped on the handle of the cage, and I held on tighter as I climbed the stairs quickly but carefully. At the door to the kitchen, I paused to listen. Yes. There was the sound of the piano. I set the cage down while I fished out my key. Then I took a deep breath and opened the door.
My heart pounded like a drum as I stepped into the empty kitchen. Here I was in the middle of Mom’s antiseptically clean kitchen, holding a rat. Mom would flip out if she knew. Now I just had to pass the open doorway to the living room where Jenna sat at the piano. Come on, I told myself. She won’t even look up.
“Here we go,” I whispered to Oscar as I shifted the cage to my left side, opposite the living room door, and headed for the hall to my room.
“Conner?”
My heart jumped, but I didn’t stop until I’d passed the doorway. Had she seen me? Had she seen the cage?
“Is that you?” she asked, with no pause in her playing.
“Yeah.” I poked my head back around the doorframe, keeping the cage out of sight in the hall. Did I sound natural or suspicious?
“You’re supposed to set the table,” Jenna said without looking at me. Her eyes stayed on the music book in front of her, and her fingers didn’t even falter on the keys.
A prickle of annoyance ran up my neck. I wanted to throw something at the back of Jenna’s head, make her mess up her playing. But I was hiding Oscar’s cage, and I didn’t want Jenna to turn around. Instead I gave her a one-handed salute that she didn’t see.
“Aye, aye,” I said as I continued down the hall. “As soon as I finish in my room.”
I opened the door to my bedroom, stepped inside with Oscar’s cage in my arms and closed the door behind us. We’d made it.
I set Oscar’s cage down on top of my bed and sat down beside it on the blue duvet cover. I slipped off my backpack and dropped it beside me.
“This is my room,” I said to Oscar, reaching a finger through the top bars of the cage. He stood up on his hind legs to sniff me.
We s
tayed like that for a few seconds; then I glanced over at the door. We were safe as long as I could hear Jenna practicing, but Mom and Dad would be home soon. I realized I’d better not leave Oscar’s cage on the bed in full view. I shifted the cage to the floor, where it couldn’t be seen unless someone walked right into the room. Then I went to check out my closet.
The closet floor wasn’t too bad—a couple of pairs of shoes, some crumpled pieces of paper, a broken model of the Millennium Falcon, a few loose Lego pieces and a shirt that had fallen off a hanger. I hung up the shirt, put away the Lego bits, tossed out the papers and kicked the shoes into the far corner of the closet.
“Okay, Oscar,” I said as I picked up the cage again. “I hope you’re not afraid of the dark.”
I bent down to place the cage on the carpet in the closet and slid it as far in as it would go. Then I went back to my bed to get Oscar’s supplies out of my pack.
The wood shavings had a pungent smell even through the plastic bag. I stuffed the bag into the back corner of the closet with the shoes, hoping Mom wouldn’t notice the smell if she came into my room. I checked Oscar’s water dish. Some of the water had slopped out during the move. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I told Oscar, then crept out to the washroom with his dish.
Back in my room, I placed the dish of fresh water in Oscar’s cage, then reached inside the cage to lift him out, wanting to give him a bit of exercise while I had the chance. I looked at my bedroom floor, then at the shelves, the dresser, the desk, the bed—there were too many things he could hide under if he decided to make a run for it. Better put him on the bed.
“There you go,” I said, setting him down in the middle of the duvet.
He immediately ran for the edge of the bed.When he saw how sharply it dropped off, he scurried back to check out the opposite edge. Next he ran for the pillow end of the bed, which must have looked like a mountain to him. He nudged around at the bottom end of the pillow as if searching for something. Was he looking for a place to hide? Maybe he was scared out in the open.
I sank to my knees beside the bed and pulled on the duvet cover so that it bunched up to make a kind of trench that almost touched at the top. Oscar immediately ran for it, ducking in between the folds of fabric. He paused for a second, sniffing, then moved through the trench as if exploring. His tail and a bit of his back fur poked out between the folds of duvet.
I looked around my room for something else I could add to Oscar’s play area. With a flash of inspiration, I grabbed The Complete Guide to Dogs off my desk, then sat down on the bed and smoothed out the duvet cover. At once Oscar began to search around for a place to hide. Quickly, I opened the book to the middle and flipped it upside down on the bed so that it sat with its spine sticking up and its sides making a kind of tent. Oscar scurried up to sniff the book, then darted in between the open pages and settled there. When I peeked under the book, he was sitting back on his hind legs, grooming himself.
Thud, thud. I jumped as someone knocked on my bedroom door. I suddenly realized that I could no longer hear the piano. At that moment the door opened, and Jenna’s face peered around it.
“Hey!” I protested. My heart thumped, but I stopped myself from throwing my arms out to hide Oscar. That would only draw attention to him. Calmly, I turned my back on Oscar and faced Jenna, telling myself to act natural. Oscar was hidden under the book. Jenna wouldn’t even see him.
Stay under there, Oscar. I willed him not to move.
“I told you, you’re supposed to set the table,” Jenna said. “I’ve already put the supper in the oven, and Mom and Dad will be home any minute. And you haven’t practiced, either.”
Even if I’d wanted to practice, how was I supposed to with her hogging the piano? But I bit back the comment.
I didn’t want an argument. I wanted her to go away.
“All right, I’m coming now,” I said. “You can go.”
Jenna glared at me for a second, then disappeared, banging the door shut behind her.
I let my breath out with relief. That was a close one.
Quickly, I lifted away The Complete Guide to Dogs and scooped up Oscar.
“Sorry, guy,” I told him. “I’ve got to put you back in your cage for now.”
I carried Oscar back to his cage and dropped some dry food into his food dish before closing the top of the cage. I really hoped he didn’t mind staying in the closet. If rats were nocturnal, he wouldn’t mind the dark, would he? Or would it confuse him to be in the dark when it wasn’t night? I’d have to look for a book about rats. There was a lot I didn’t know about them.
I stood up, feeling a wave of elation. It was only temporary, and it wasn’t a dog, but at least I had a pet. This was going to be great!
Announcement
“Now, let’s hear how you’re coming with the minuet,” Miss Remple said as she leaned over me.
I heard her take a sip of coffee, and I flipped quickly through the pages of my music book. I wasn’t in a hurry to play the minuet, but at least the notes would cover up the gulping gurgle of her swallow. I found the page, pressed the book open and readied my fingers over the keys.
Too late. Once again I tried not to shudder as my imagination followed the progress of the coffee down Miss Remple’s throat. I tried to block out her presence by concentrating on the music, but instead I thought about Oscar.
How was he making out in the closet? Was he sleeping? Was he wondering where I was? Was Mom discovering him right this very moment?
My fingers fumbled on the piano keys and I hit a succession of wrong notes.
“I think you’d better start from the beginning again,” Miss Remple said. Her voice sounded tight, as if it was taking some effort to keep exasperation out of it, but I could still feel it in the air. I didn’t blame her for being fed up with my playing, though. I was too. We’d both be happier if Mom and Dad would just let me quit.
I started the piece again, trying to keep my mind on what I was doing. This time I made it through with only a couple of small mistakes, which Miss Remple overlooked.
“All right,” she said. “I think that’s enough for today.”
I sighed with relief and eagerly closed my book. It wouldn’t be long now until I was back at home checking on Oscar.
“Just one more thing,” Miss Remple said, halting me as I headed for the door. “We’ve got a recital coming up next month. I’d like you to work on getting the minuet perfect by then.”
I stifled a groan.
“A recital?”
“Don’t look so worried,” she said with a smile. “It’s just a small event—an opportunity for my students to perform for their families. I won’t assign you anything new to prepare, so there should be no pressure. You had the minuet well in hand last week. I’m not sure what happened today. Three weeks should give you plenty of time to learn to play it with complete confidence.”
It may have been my imagination, but she didn’t look like she believed that. I know I didn’t.
Then I remembered the bike competition. That was next month too. The competition was on February 10. The recital couldn’t possibly be on the same day, could it?
“Miss Remple?” I asked apprehensively. “What date is the recital?”
“It’ll be on the second Saturday—the tenth, I think.”
My heart sank. How could I possibly be in two places at once?
“In the morning?” I asked hopefully. The bike competition was in the afternoon. Maybe if I couldn’t get out of the recital, I could still make it to the competition.
Miss Remple nodded.
“We’ll start at 10:30,” she said. “We should be finished by noon.”
“That’s great,” I exclaimed, giving her a big grin.
She smiled back.
“Do you have something else happening that day?”
“A bike competition,” I said. I hadn’t meant to tell her, but in my relief I blurted it out.
“Hmm,” she said, giving me a considering
look. “What kind of bike competition?”
“Ah. . .” I stalled, feeling my face coloring. Miss Remple was my piano teacher. She probably thought bike stunts were stupid or uncouth or something. I looked at the door, anxious to get going, but Miss Remple was waiting for me to say more.
“BMX stunts,” I told her.
Miss Remple raised her eyebrows.
“That sounds very intriguing,” she said. “And that’s in the afternoon?”
“Yeah,” I said, pulling on my coat. “I better get going now.”
Miss Remple stood at the door, watching me get on my bike. As I put pavement between us, Miss Remple and piano lessons quickly dropped from my mind. I wanted to get straight home to Oscar, but I had one quick detour to make on the way. I needed a book about rats.
It didn’t take long to pedal to the public library, and I was in and out in about ten minutes. Without slowing down, I stuffed the book in my backpack and hopped back on my bike.
I pedaled the rest of the way home at full speed, anxiety adding energy to my legs. I’d hung a Keep Out sign on my bedroom door and assured Mom that my room was clean, but you never knew with Mom. If she decided the whole house needed vacuuming or disinfecting or something, no sign would keep her out.
I parked my bike in the garage and took the back steps two at a time. Oscar was probably wondering where I was by now. Maybe he was hungry. I’d only left a small amount of food in his dish because it was more fun to feed it to him by hand. I slowed down as I opened the door to the house. What if Mom had found Oscar? What if she’d freaked out and thumped him with the broom, like she’d tried to do to the rat in the yard?
My chest felt tight as I stepped into the kitchen. Dad was standing by the stove, and I could smell something cooking. What was he doing here? On Saturday morning he was usually out doing errands or playing golf.
Then I remembered that Mom was catering the conference this weekend.
“Hi.” Dad turned to me and smiled. “You’re just in time. I’m heating up some soup.”
Truth About Rats and Dogs Page 4
