by Emily Ecton
“Sorry,” Marco said. “SORRY, CHAD!” he yelled.
“Marco!” Polo said. “Shh. Just watch now.”
She pointed at Chad, who was making his way across the counter toward the dining room. He slid off the edge of the counter, down the cabinets, and crawled across the floor. Then he pulled himself up the curtains, stretched out one long tentacle, and quietly cranked open the window.
“He’s very good,” Polo whispered.
Marco nodded. “Professional.”
Chad slid back down the curtains onto the floor. He had just started the trek toward the kitchen when the man on the sofa put his phone aside, stretched, and stood up.
“Chad!” Polo squeaked. “Watch out!”
Chad froze, instantly changing color to match the darkness of the curtains. One minute there was a big obvious octopus lying on the carpet, and the next, he was just a dark fold in the fabric of the curtains.
“Whoa. How did he do that?” Marco breathed. “You can hardly see him.” If he hadn’t been watching, he never would’ve known Chad was there.
“Do you think he does that a lot?” Polo asked. Seeing an almost invisible Chad lying in wait made her more than a little uncomfortable.
“Shh. He’s moving.” Marco grabbed Polo by the arm.
The Number Two Man walked into the dining room and got an apple out of the bowl on the table. He looked at it for a second and then dropped it in disgust. He was less than a foot from Chad the whole time, but he never even looked down.
“He’s going to notice the window!” Polo squealed.
“Forget the window—Oscar will be here any second,” Marco said, clutching Polo by the shoulder. “He’ll see Oscar! It’ll blow the whole heist!”
“Chad! Do something!” Polo squeaked.
A long dark tentacle snaked out from the curtains where Chad was hidden. It snagged the end of Number Two’s shoelace and pulled carefully, untying it.
The man didn’t notice.
Chad’s tentacle tapped Number Two on the leg, retreating back into the folds of the curtains so quickly that Marco wasn’t even sure he’d seen it happen.
The man looked down and rubbed his ankle just as Oscar appeared in the window.
“Ack!” Oscar squawked, desperately flapping his wings to gain altitude again.
“Ack!” Marco gurgled, pointing at Oscar in the window.
“Ack,” Number Two muttered, noticing his untied shoelace for the first time. He stomped back to the couch, threw himself down, and started tying his shoe just as Oscar made a clumsy landing and ducked behind the curtains.
Polo let out a huge sigh of relief. “This is way too stressful. We should’ve gotten rid of this guy too.”
“No kidding,” Marco said. His heart was racing, and all he was doing was standing in a vent.
The elevator in the hallway dinged.
Marco and Polo looked at each other. It was time. They were all in place.
“Ready?” Marco held up his hand.
“Ready,” Polo said, high-fiving Marco.
Marco leaned out of the grate, put two fingers in his mouth, and let out a loud whistle.
* * *
“Ninth floor,” the elevator woman said as the doors opened.
Butterbean and Walt cautiously peered out into the hallway.
It was empty.
Butterbean dropped her squeaky carrot in front of the elevator-door sensor, gave it an affectionate pat, and stepped over it into the hallway. She’d always liked that carrot, and now it was going to make sure they had a clean getaway.
Walt was already by the apartment door. (She was less sentimental about the carrot.) “Everyone should be in place,” Walt said. “Now we just wait for the signal.”
“Okay,” Butterbean said. She listened as hard as she could.
From inside the apartment, they heard a thin, shrill whistle.
Butterbean and Walt looked at each other and nodded. And then they opened their mouths and started to scream.
Walt’s screech sounded like she’d gotten her tail caught in the elevator door. Butterbean decided to alternate between howling and rapid-fire barking that lifted her off her feet. But the noise was incredible. The hallway had great acoustics.
They’d only been at it a minute when the door to the apartment jerked open, and the Number Two Man inside stared at them in surprise.
“Get ready,” Walt yowled.
Butterbean braced herself. This was the part of the plan where the man ran out of the apartment and tried to grab them. She’d even come up with some fancy evasive maneuvers. Bouncing off the walls—that type of thing.
But there was one problem. The man didn’t move. He just stood in the doorway and stared at them like they were animal carolers with too much holiday spirit (and a defective calendar).
Butterbean frowned. “Now what?” she howled at Walt.
Walt shot a sidelong glance at Butterbean. “Me, head. You, feet.”
Butterbean nodded and threw herself at the man’s feet, grabbing at his pants leg and tugging him into the hallway. Walt waited until he started staggering forward, then launched herself at his face, grabbing on to his ears with both paws and twisting around his head.
“AAHHHHH!” the man screamed.
“This should do it,” Walt screeched, nipping the fleshy part of his ear. She made a face. It wasn’t clean.
Butterbean barked in approval and grabbed at his shoes. They weren’t clean either, but a little dirt never bothered Butterbean.
* * *
When he heard the commotion in the hallway, Oscar sprang into action, pushing the curtains aside and hopping onto the table.
He scanned the room, but he didn’t see Chad. That wasn’t good. Chad was his contact. Without the octopus, the whole plan would fall apart.
“Curtains! Look on the floor by the curtains!”
Oscar peered up at the grate. A tiny rat arm was waving at him, and he could see a sparkly flash. Polo. Oscar looked down just in time to see part of the curtains detach and move away toward the living room. It changed color as it walked, slowly turning from a muddy-brown piece of curtain to a lighter grayish-beige octopus. Chad.
Oscar flexed his wings. He hoped he was up to this. After all, he did have a bad back.
Chad quickly pulled himself across the living room, ignoring the commotion in the hallway. Oscar decided to ignore it too. He didn’t even want to know what Butterbean and Walt were doing out there.
Chad whipped a tentacle around the handle of the cabinet end table and jerked it open. The small duffel bag was there, just as Marco and Polo had said it would be. Oscar caught his breath. The treasure was real.
Chad dragged the duffel bag out, and Oscar tugged at the zipper. Gold coins spilled onto the floor.
“Nice haul,” Chad said.
Oscar nodded, picking up the loose coins with his beak and dropping them back into the bag. They couldn’t get sloppy. If this went well, the men wouldn’t even know they’d been robbed until the animals were long gone. They couldn’t leave a single trace of evidence behind.
Oscar zipped the bag back up and grabbed the handles with his feet. Then he braced himself. This was it.
He took a deep breath, flapped his wings, and lifted up into the air. Then, using every bit of strength he had, he flew slowly over to the window. Going slow wasn’t part of the plan, but Oscar couldn’t go any faster. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it to the window in time. The bag was much heavier than the handbag he’d been practicing with.
But just when Oscar thought he’d have to give up, he made it to the window. With one last burst of strength, he flew outside, looked down, and plummeted out of sight.
* * *
Marco and Polo watched Oscar drop like a stone. “Was it supposed to go like that?” Marco whispered.
Polo stared at the empty window. She wasn’t sure. It sure didn’t look like part of the plan, but she didn’t want to be negative. “I think so. Looked good to me.”
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“Okay, if you say so,” Marco said. “Give the signal.”
Polo nodded and leaned as far out of the grate as she could. She put two fingers into her mouth and gave a long, low whistle.
* * *
Butterbean had a mouthful of sock when she heard the whistle from the living room. She immediately spit it out and backed away. Socks were not her chew toy of choice.
Walt leaped off the man’s head and landed on the floor next to Butterbean, her legs already moving. “To the elevator! Run!”
Butterbean wheeled around and took off for the elevator, sideswiping the man and making him stumble into the wall.
Walt grabbed the squeaky carrot as Butterbean raced through the elevator door, just barely getting her tail inside before it closed.
Panting, they collapsed in a heap in the corner.
“We did it,” Walt said.
Butterbean gave the carrot a weak squeak.
“Eighth floor,” the elevator woman said.
* * *
“Done!” Polo said as the barking and screeching in the hallway stopped abruptly. If she craned her neck, she could see the man staggering around. She wasn’t sure what Butterbean and Walt’s distraction had been, but it looked effective. She turned to Marco. “Pull me back.” She didn’t feel comfortable leaning that far out of the grate. She didn’t think she was small enough to slip through, but she was probably big enough to get stuck. And they needed to get out of there.
Marco grabbed hold of Polo’s tail and pulled her back into the vent, catching her button necklace on the metalwork as he pulled. The red thread snapped, and the sparkly button fell into the room below.
“Nooo! My button!” Polo said, clutching at it as it fell. But it was no use.
Marco and Polo pressed their faces against the grate and scanned the room. “Where did it go?” Polo wailed.
“There!” Marco said, pointing. The button had bounced and was lying in the middle of the living room, next to the sofa.
“We have to get it!” Polo squealed.
Marco waved his arm desperately. “Chad!”
“Chad! The button! Get the button!” Polo shrieked.
Chad was making his way back toward the sink. He shot a look back at the grate, but he didn’t stop. Now that the commotion in the hallway had ended, he didn’t have much time. “I’ve got my butt moving,” Chad said grouchily. “I can’t move any faster. I’m getting rug burn as it is.”
“No, not your butt! The BUTTON,” Marco yelled.
Chad pulled himself onto the sink and shot the rats a nasty look before he disappeared down the drain. He didn’t appreciate the comments. It wasn’t like octopuses really even had butts.
“What do we do?” Polo said, staring at the sparkle on the carpet.
“We’ll get you another one,” Marco said, patting her on the arm. “I’ll chew one off of Madison’s sweater when she comes by this afternoon. You can distract her for me.”
Polo shook her head. “No, it’s not that. We’re not supposed to leave anything behind, remember? What if the man sees it?”
Marco looked at the button uncertainly. It was very sparkly. Someone would definitely notice it.
The Number Two Man lurched back into the apartment from the hallway. His hair was standing on end like things were nesting in it, and the bottoms of his pants legs looked shredded. Whatever Walt and Butterbean had done, it was bad. He closed the door firmly behind him and flopped onto the sofa, his foot inches from the button.
It was too late.
Marco looked at Polo and then gave an awkward laugh. “It’s fine. That tiny thing? They’ll never notice.”
But he could see the sparkle out of the corner of his eye as they turned and hurried away down the vents.
14
BUTTERBEAN WAS FOLLOWING WALT BACK into their apartment when Walt stopped short in the doorway. Butterbean slammed into her from behind, stumbling and falling forward onto her face.
“Hey!” Butterbean started to object, but then she caught sight of what Walt was staring at. Her jaw dropped.
The small duffel bag was on the dining room table next to the aquarium. It had been unzipped and was overflowing with coins, primarily because Oscar was inside, squawking happily and flinging gold coins in the air. It was a very undignified display.
“Oscar?” Walt said uncertainly. She’d never seen Oscar so enthusiastic before.
“Look, Walt! Gold! We’re rich! I did it! And I didn’t even hurt my back,” Oscar crowed, flinging another coin into the air. It bonked him on the head as it fell, but he hardly flinched. He giggled in a very un-Oscar-like way.
Walt and Butterbean exchanged a concerned look. Oscar had obviously lost it.
“What’s up, Oscar?” Walt said, carefully edging into the room.
Oscar hunkered deeper into the coin bag. “That rich duck on the Television does this a lot, and I always thought it looked fun!”
“Is it?” Butterbean asked, eyeing the bag. She didn’t think she would be able to fit inside, but it was worth a try. She might be able to if she squeezed.
“Well, yes and no,” Oscar sighed, climbing out of the bag and rearranging his ruffled wing feathers. With his feathers in place, he seemed much more like the old Oscar. “It’s a very unique experience. But it does hurt when the coins hit you.”
Walt jumped onto the table and nosed the bag. “It is a lot of money,” she said. She dipped a paw into the bag and raked her claws through the coins. “It should be more than enough.”
“Oh definitely,” Oscar said. “We’re independently wealthy now, no question about that.” He preened and flapped his wings happily. “Our worries are over.”
Butterbean stood up on her hind legs to sniff the bag. “It worked just like we planned. Those coin men won’t know what hit them! Oh boy, they’re going to be mad.” Butterbean inspected the bag carefully. Up close, it looked like it would be too small for her. Maybe if she asked nicely, Oscar would tip the coins onto the floor so she could roll in them. It did look like a lot of fun, and Oscar seemed to be in a mood to say yes.
Butterbean cleared her throat. “Um, Oscar…”
“GUYS! We’re back!” The rats’ voices came echoing through the vents. “Did we get it? Did Oscar die?” Marco and Polo shot out of the space behind the couch and skidded to a stop at the sight of the duffel bag.
“OSCAR! WHOOHOO YOU DID IT!” Marco cheered, attempting to climb up and fist-bump Oscar.
“We weren’t sure, when you fell out of sight like that,” Polo said. “You dropped like a stone.”
“Um. Yes,” Oscar said.
“Dropped is right. Did you mean to do that?” Marco asked.
Oscar cleared his throat. “Of course I did. Time was of the essence, so I decided to go with speed, not elegance.”
“Well good, we were worried!” Polo said, hugging one of Oscar’s skinny legs.
Oscar patted her awkwardly on the head and averted his eyes. He hadn’t actually been going for speed or elegance—he’d just been trying to stay in the air. Once he’d started falling, he’d picked up speed so quickly, he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop in time. If he hadn’t managed to snag the bag handle on Mrs. Food’s window crank, he might have ended up a grease stain on the pavement below. A very rich grease stain, but still a grease stain.
“Thank you, Polo.” Oscar cleared his throat. “So first things first. We should probably count the coins to see how many we have. Walt, you have online contacts who can help us with the next step?”
“I do.”
“We’ll need you to get in touch with them. See what we have to do to get the ball rolling. We don’t have much time.”
“We’ll need to give Chad his sardines, too. We can’t forget that,” Polo said. She had a bad feeling that Chad was upset with them, but she wasn’t sure why.
“And Wallace! We need to give him some seeds,” Marco added.
“Right.” Oscar nodded. “I’m so proud of you all! O
ur plan went off without a hitch!”
“Well, not quite,” Polo said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Not quite without a hitch.”
“What? What do you mean?” Oscar clicked his beak. He was pretty sure the plan had gone perfectly.
“There was a hitch,” Marco said. He thought it was pretty obvious from what Polo had said.
“My button,” Polo said, putting a hand up to her neck. “The hitch is my button. The string broke, and it fell out of the grate into the living room.”
“It’s in the middle of the floor now,” Marco said.
Oscar laughed with relief. He’d been afraid they were going to tell him something bad. Something that would mess up the plan. “Oh, well, a button. That’s a very small thing.”
“But it was distinctive,” Polo said. “If they find it, they’ll know it was me.”
“Don’t be silly,” Walt said.
“Polo, you’re not being reasonable,” Oscar said. “Even if they find it, they never saw your button! They won’t have any idea it was you.”
“Right.” Butterbean nodded encouragingly. “They’ll think it was Madison.”
Four heads turned toward Butterbean.
Oscar frowned. “What do you mean, they’ll think it was Madison?”
Butterbean shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like being put on the spot that way. “They’ll think it was Madison, because the Coin Man knows it’s her button.”
Walt stalked over to Butterbean and sat down. “Explain.”
Butterbean sighed. “When we were in the elevator, the Coin Man noticed her sparkly buttons. He talked about them. As soon as he sees it, he’ll know it’s hers.”
Polo sat down hard on her haunches. She’d been afraid the Coin Man would come after her. But the idea that the Coin Man would come after Madison? And that it was her fault? That was even worse.
“Are you sure?” Polo squeaked.
“Of course not,” Oscar said. “That’s ridiculous. The Coin Man didn’t notice Madison’s buttons.”
