I grinned back, relieved. Mom was away, and Dad had probably not gone anywhere near my bedroom.
“How was piano?” Dad asked as I hung up my coat and slipped off my shoes.
My chest tightened once again as I remembered the upcoming recital.
“Good,” I said, adjusting my coat on the hook and not looking at him. Maybe if I didn’t mention the recital, Dad and Mom wouldn’t find out about it. Maybe I could avoid the recital altogether and just go to the bike competition.
“Jenna says you’ve got a recital coming up,” Dad said.
My hopes sank. I’d forgotten about Jenna. She also took lessons with Miss Remple, so of course she’d know about the recital. For a second I considered trying to persuade Dad that the recital was only for students at Jenna’s level, but I knew Jenna would tell him the truth, so I just nodded.
“That’s great,” Dad said, grinning enthusiastically and not noticing I wasn’t. “Your mom and I are really looking forward to it.”
Yeah, just great. I gave my shoes a light kick to move them out of the way of the door, suppressing the urge to kick them a lot harder. I wished I could get Mom and Dad to understand that I hated playing the piano. Just the thought of sitting down at the piano in front of a bunch of people made me feel sick. Even if I could play the minuet without butchering it, I’d feel sick.
“Do I have to do the recital?” I asked, a note of pleading creeping into my voice.
“Of course,” Dad said. He opened a cupboard door and lifted out bowls and side plates, then turned to me. “The recital is your opportunity to showcase the results of all that hard work you’ve put in. Haven’t you been practicing hard?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Well, then. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m sure we’ll be proud of both you and Jenna.”
I opened my mouth to protest further, but Dad had that unbendable look on his face. Now was probably not the time to tell him about the bike competition either.
He’d likely think I just wanted to get out of the recital to do bike stuff, which, to him, was like watching television instead of doing homework. Besides, I really wanted to get away and check on Oscar. I mumbled something that sounded like agreement. Dad looked satisfied and turned his attention to the pot on the stove.
“Lunch is in five minutes,” he said as he stirred the pot.
I headed out of the kitchen, feeling trapped again.
“And Conner,” Dad called after me. “Mom left some new clothes outside your door. Make sure you put them away. They’re for Chinese New Year.”
I’d forgotten that Chinese New Year was almost here.
At least I could look forward to dinner at Yeh Yeh and Ma Ma’s house (Yeh Yeh and Ma Ma are what Jenna and I call Grandma and Grandpa Lee, our Cantonese grandparents). I like seeing my cousin Ryan and the other relatives I don’t see very often, and of course I like getting lucky money. But I’d give up all my lucky money if it could get me out of the recital.
Close Call
At my bedroom door I bent down to pick up the pile of neatly folded clothes, my thoughts anxiously jumping to Oscar again. I hadn’t seen Jenna this morning. Would she have gone into my room? Was Oscar all right?
I opened the door and quickly tossed the new clothes and my backpack onto the bed, closing the door behind me. Looking around, I saw nothing out of place. There was no sign that anyone had been in the room, and nothing gave away Oscar’s presence.
The room was silent.
I felt a sudden stab of panic. Whenever we walked into Mrs. Ferguson’s classroom to feed Daisy the guinea pig, she always squeaked her excitement. But I’d never heard Oscar make a sound. Was he still here? Was he okay?
In two strides I crossed the room and opened the closet door. Light fell over Oscar’s cage, which sat on the floor just as I’d left it. In the middle of the cage, Oscar stood on his hind legs as if waiting for me.
“Hey, Oscar,” I greeted him, a wave of relief washing over me. Keeping a rat hidden in my room was turning out to be more stressful than I’d imagined.
I opened the cage and stuck in my hand, letting Oscar sniff my fingers before I stroked the fur on his nose and back.
“Are you hungry, Oscar?”
I pulled my hand out of the cage and found the container of dry food. There were pellets that looked like dog food, Cheerios, nuts and other cereal-type things.
I selected one of the Cheerios, and Oscar stretched up eagerly to take it from my fingers. He held the Cheerio in his forepaws while he chewed, making quick work of it. I passed him a pellet next, and it too disappeared. When I handed him a nut, he took it from my fingers, ran into his cardboard house, stashed it, then popped back out to see what I’d give him next. I laughed. I passed him another nut, and he stashed that too. Again, he scurried back out and stood up, expectantly. I tried another piece of cereal, and he hid that too.
I suddenly realized that I was laughing out loud and clamped my mouth shut. I’d forgotten all about Dad, and Jenna might be home too. I’d even forgotten to worry about the recital and everything else to do with piano. I stood back and listened for a moment, but there were no sounds outside my bedroom door. I heard a muffled call from the kitchen. Lunch must be ready.
I knelt back down by Oscar’s cage and secured the cage door.
“I’ve got to go for lunch now, Oscar,” I whispered. “But I won’t be long. I’ll try to bring you back something good to eat,” I added.
I turned to go, leaving the closet door open so that he’d have some light. I figured it was safe, since everyone would be in the kitchen. I glanced at my backpack on the bed. I’d almost forgotten about the rat book. Maybe I could just take a quick peek inside.
I slipped the small book, titled Rats: A Pet Owner’s Manual, out of my backpack and sat down on the bed, opening to the first page.
The ancestors of all rats kept as house pets today are brown rats (Rattus norvegicus). Two hundred years ago they came to Europe from China. Brown rats came to North America as stowaways on ships, hidden among the cargo in the eighteenth century.
Interesting. I looked over at Oscar sitting in his cage. Even though he was grayish brown and white, he was descended from a brown rat whose ancestors came from Asia, just like half of mine did.
When living among humans, brown rats live close to the ground, inhabiting basements of houses and frequently sewers.
So the brown rat was the sewer rat everyone hated— probably the same kind of rat that had been in our yard.
I flipped ahead in the book, checking out the headings:
Food, Housing, Health, Behavior. I’d have to read through everything more carefully later. I stopped flipping when a heading caught my eye. Training.
Using food as a reward almost always guarantees that a pet rat will learn what you want to teach it.
Cool. I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe I could train Oscar to do some tricks, just like you can train a dog. I could get him to come when I called him or—
Suddenly there was a knock, and the door to my room opened. I looked up with a start, dropping the rat book on the bed. Dad’s face peered in at me, his expression annoyed.
“Conner, didn’t you hear me call? Lunch has been ready for ten minutes. You’ve got to show more respect for other people in this house.”
“Sorry, Dad. I was doing homework,” I said quickly.
My eyes flicked to the open closet door. If he stepped into the room and turned, he would see Oscar.
Dad’s eyes followed my gaze, and he took a step into the room. My heart pounded with panic, and I leaped up from the bed, hurrying to block his view of the closet.
“I’m starved,” I said, trying to distract him. “What are we having?”
Dad grinned and stepped back.
“For someone who’s starving,” he laughed, “you’re sure taking your time getting to the food. But I’m glad you’re doing your homework,” he added. “You won’t achieve anything worthwhile in this life w
ithout hard work and commitment.”
Give me a break. I wished I could make Dad see that I was willing to commit to things and work hard at them. I just didn’t want to commit to piano.
The Truth About Rats
After lunch, I returned to my room with a chunk of cheese and a slice of apple in my pocket. I’d also saved a couple of black beans from the soup Dad had heated up.
“I’ll be on the computer,” Dad called to me before I shut my bedroom door. That was good. He’d be busy for quite a while, and Jenna had gone over to a friend’s house.
But I wished my door had a lock on it.
Grabbing the rat book off the bed, I went to kneel on the floor by Oscar’s cage. As usual, Oscar stood up to greet me.
“Hey, Oscar,” I said, opening the cage roof door. “I’ve got some treats for you.”
I broke off a tiny piece of cheese and reached into the cage with it. Oscar’s nose twitched with interest and he stretched up eagerly. He obviously liked the smell of the cheese. I paused before giving it to him, getting a new idea.
What if I laid all the food out for Oscar to choose from? Would he go for the cheese first?
I withdrew my hand and placed the piece of cheese on the floor in front of me. I set one of the black beans and a piece of the apple slice on the floor as well, spacing the three pieces of food evenly. Then I took Oscar out of the cage. I held his warm furry body against my chest for a moment, stroking his fur.
“I’ve got some food for you, Oscar,” I whispered to him. “Let’s see which one you like the best.”
I set Oscar down on the floor in front of the three pieces of food. He crouched, his nose sniffing the air. I leaned forward . Was he going to go for the cheese? Oscar didn’t move. What was he waiting for? He’d seemed eager enough for the cheese when I held it in his cage.
Suddenly Oscar jerked forward, but instead of heading for the food, he made an about-face and scurried between my knees.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I whispered. “The food is over there.”
I picked up Oscar and placed him back in front of the food. Again he turned and ran for my knees. What was he up to? I shifted backward, away from him. He moved, as if about to follow my knees. Of course, he was looking for a place to hide. How dumb of me to forget. I leaned forward to pick Oscar up, but at that moment he must have changed his mind about aiming for my knees. Instead he made a dash for my dresser, which stood against the wall near the closet. I reached for him, but not quickly enough. In an instant he had disappeared into the narrow gap under the dresser.
I groaned. How was I going to get him out of there?
The bottom of the dresser had a decorative strip of curly-edged wood that blocked off most of the gap. I knew, from trying to dig stray Lego pieces out of there, that it was hard to get my hand in very far.
I lay down on the floor and pressed my cheek against the carpet to try to see Oscar. I could just make out his shape in the shadows at the back of the dresser.
Experimentally, I poked my hand in under the middle of the dresser, but I could only reach in as far as my elbow. My fingers brushed against Oscar’s fur, but I couldn’t get hold of him.
I withdrew my hand and sat up again. I’d had to use a long ruler to pull out the pieces of Lego, but I was sure that wouldn’t work with Oscar, and I didn’t want to risk hurting or scaring him either.
I glanced at my closed bedroom door, wondering if Dad was about to look in on me again. Beyond the door, the house was quiet.
I looked around me. What should I do? Would Oscar eventually come out if I waited? What if he didn’t? My eyes fell on the book lying on my bed. Maybe there’d be something in there that could help.
I retrieved the book from the bed, keeping one eye on the bottom of the dresser the whole time in case Oscar decided to come out. I didn’t want to accidentally step on him. But I didn’t have to worry about that. He was staying put.
I sat back down on the floor and flipped through the book. I’m not sure what I was looking for—maybe a section called How To Remove a Rat From Under a Dresser. Of course there wasn’t one, but something else caught my eye: How To Catch a Rat.
If your rat is loose and you want to get him back in his cage quickly, entice him with food. When the rat comes to check out the treat, pick him up and return him to his cage.
Well, that was easier said than done. Oscar didn’t seem interested in food right now, but it was worth a try. I picked up the cheese, bean and apple from the floor and went to the closet to get a few Cheerios and some more cheese, which I knew Oscar liked. I placed the cheese and one Cheerio just outside the opening under the dresser; then I put another small piece of cheese, another Cheerio and the rest of the food a little farther away from the dresser. Still no movement under the dresser.
I sat back with a sigh and opened the book again, holding it so that I could see the pages and the bottom of the dresser at the same time. I guessed I was going to have to wait Oscar out. I riffled through the pages, reading the chapter titles, then stopped when Understanding Your Rat” caught my eye. I began to read.
To understand your pet rat’s behavior, you need to know about the habits of its wild ancestors.
By now the image of hoards of filthy, black, yellow-fanged rats swarming over our back steps seemed foolish and cartoony. I realized that since I’d met Oscar, my understanding of rats had really changed. I read further.
Wild rats like to sleep in dark places.
Well that was good. Oscar must like my closet then.
Although they are crepuscular, meaning they can be active or asleep at different times during both day and night, rats usually come out to hunt at dawn or dusk.
They are cautious animals who like to hide and are not comfortable in bright light or wide open spaces.
I had learned about that last bit, all right. My bedroom must have looked like a wide open, scary space to Oscar. I should have let him get more comfortable with his new surroundings before letting him out on the floor, and I should have blocked off the places I didn’t want him to go.
I set the book aside again and bent down to take another look at Oscar. He was still at the back of the dresser, but now he was sitting on his hind legs, grooming himself. I felt better. Grooming was a good sign, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t do that if he was still scared, would he? Maybe he’d eat now.
I took one of the cheese pieces in my fingers and held it under the dresser.
“Oscar,” I called coaxingly. “I’ve got some nice cheese for you.”
Knock, knock.
I jumped, dropping the cheese.
“Conner,” Dad called through the closed door. “Jake is on the phone.”
Heart thudding, I silently urged Oscar to stay hidden.
But it was okay. Dad didn’t come in this time.
“Tell him I’ll call him back in a few minutes,” I called from my frozen position on the floor. I hadn’t even heard the phone ring.
“All right,” Dad said, his voice trailing off as he moved away from the door.
I waited a second to make sure he wasn’t coming back, then dove forward to peer under the dresser. Oscar was still there, but motionless now. Was he scared again? I lay on the floor watching him. Finally, he resumed grooming, and I sat up to look for the piece of cheese I’d dropped earlier. It was stuck to my pants.
Taking a deep breath, I returned to the floor and held the cheese out to Oscar for the second time. I waited, my arm extended under the dresser, but nothing happened.
After a few more minutes I gave up and pulled my arm back out. Another check under the dresser told me that Oscar was still standing at the back, grooming. At this rate, we’d be here all day. Sighing, I picked up the book once more. Might as well keep reading.
Brown rats live together in packs or family clans. They are social, peaceful animals, and squabbles are rare.
Each rat has its own job in the extended family…
There! A flash of movement caught my eye.
A grayish brown nose with a pink tip poked out from under the dresser, snatched up the first piece of cheese, then disappeared. Quietly, I closed the book and carefully set it down out of the way.
The nose appeared again, twitching. Cautiously, Oscar crept out toward the next piece of food, and I scooped him up with both hands.
“Maybe we’ll stick to the top of the bed for now,” I told him.
Jake
On Monday morning I sat down at my desk at school, grinning to myself. I’d progressed a lot with Oscar over the weekend. I’d even gotten him to jump through a hoop for a piece of cheese The hoop was a plastic hair band I’d borrowed from Jenna’s room while she was out. It was open at one end, but when I held it upside down it made a good hoop. I turned to Jake, eager to tell him about Oscar, though I wasn’t sure if he’d be interested. Jake didn’t look at me. Instead he stared straight ahead as if I wasn’t there. I nudged his shoulder to get his attention. He jerked away and turned to glare at me.
“What do you want?” he snarled.
My mouth dropped open. What was wrong with him?
“Well?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. I wasn’t about to tell him about
Oscar now.
“Good morning, everyone,” Miss Chien announced at the front of the room, drawing my attention away from Jake.
Math period dragged on. By recess I still didn’t know what was eating Jake. I tried to stick with him as everyone moved outside, but Mercedes and Erika headed me off.
How’s Oscar?” Mercedes asked, her red coat like a big stop sign. Erika pushed up beside her, anxious to hear what I had to say.
For a second I felt torn, wanting to talk to them about the animals, but also wanting to go after Jake. He looked back over his shoulder once, scowled and jogged away toward the soccer field. I shrugged and turned back to Mercedes and Erika.
“Oscar’s great,” I told them. “How about your rats?” I asked Erika.
“They’re okay. I think the dogs scared them at first, but the rats are already ignoring them. Anyway, they stay in their cage unless the dogs are out of the house or the rats are locked safely in my bedroom.”
Truth About Rats and Dogs Page 5
