by Shannon Hale
I leaped, sailing over Cletus, but he bucked his head as I did, knocking one of my legs mid-flight. My landing was not as graceful as I would have liked, and as soon as I was on my feet again, Cletus had turned and was charging again. We moved like this, charging and leaping, charging and leaping. I couldn’t think of a way to win without seriously hurting him, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt him. We might need this warrior’s help in our fight against the trap-maker.
He charged again, and I leaped again—only this time he stopped short, rearing up on his hind legs. He caught my tail and threw me to the ground. I managed to roll away before he pounced, and then twisted back to grab hold of his moist back fur. He reared, but I leaped fully atop his back, clinging to his fur with all four paws. It was a wild ride, and everyone was shouting. But the tone of the shouts started to change from excitement to panic. Then I heard it, too.
Big paws slapping the earth. Rapid breathing. The screams of squirrel guards, and then, above it all, Cortez’s panicked shouting.
“DOG!” she yelled, a split second before the beast was upon us.
DOREEN
That night, Dante Santino was voted Cutest Baby in the World by the National Organization of Awesomest Babysitters. The NOAB had a single member: Doreen Green. After casting the winning vote for Dante, Doreen made a paper crown and placed it on his head.
“Gaba!” said Dante by way of his acceptance speech. He was sitting up on the floor and gnawing on an Iron Man action figure.
“You know his facial hair is compensating for a lack of tail,” said Doreen.
“Bap!”
“Totally,” said Doreen.63
The awards ceremony was interrupted by the distinctive sound of squirrel claws tapping at the window. Doreen lifted Dante onto her hip and went to open the window to Tippy-Toe. Only it wasn’t Tippy-Toe.
“Oh! Hi!” said Doreen. “You’re one of Tippy’s friends, right? Fuzz Fountain Cortez? What can I—?”
The squirrel was spasming with excitement, pointing and chittering, tail wagging.64 She hopped down onto the carpet and tried pushing Doreen’s legs toward the door.
“Hang on, what’s up?”
“Chkktchkktchkkt…”
Doreen gasped. “Is Tippy-Toe in trouble? But…but…”
She looked at Dante. Dante grabbed her nose and said, “Buh! Buh!”
A minute later, Doreen was running. And Dante was strapped to her chest in a baby carrier. He faced forward, his arms and legs kicking wildly with excitement, his mouth open in a huge grin.
Doreen ran so fast, Cortez gave up and rode on her shoulder. Doreen ran so fast, she had to release her tail just to keep her balance. She ran so fast maybe she could have raced raindrops with Cortez and won.
She pulled up short in the impromptu garbage dump behind the decaying Burger-N-Bean-Bowl.
There were squirrels everywhere. They were all speaking at once, creating a unified chittering noise, impossible to understand. The squirrels gathered around Doreen and pushed her forward. She couldn’t tell what the furry wall wanted her to see till she found herself standing before a sudden and very deep pit.65 And in the pit were three creatures: Tippy-Toe, a second squirrel of considerable girth the others referred to as Big Daddy Spud, and a large black dog. The dog was going cuckoo, barking and growling, both trying to jump out and nip the squirrels. And the squirrels were both trying to jump out and keep from being nipped by the dog. Sooner or later, someone was going to get nipped.
Easy-peasy! Doreen would just jump in, grab the dog, hold it still while Tippy and Big Daddy Spud escaped, and then climb out with the dog in her arms….Oh. She had a baby on her chest.
Dante shook his tiny fists and declared, “BAH! BAH! BAH!”
“Chkkt!” all the squirrels said, noticing the baby for the first time. They lifted their heads to smell the infant. There was a kind of reverence in their eyes.
“Squirrels like babies, right?” said Doreen. “You’ll take care of him?”
She unstrapped Dante and set him down, looking for the cleanest spot. But she needn’t have bothered. The baby’s bum never touched the earth, cushioned instead on the backs of dozens of squirrels who threw themselves beneath him. Dante giggled on his squirmy, tilty fur rug.
That left Doreen free. She jumped down. Tippy-Toe leaped onto Doreen’s head and from there out of the hole; Big Daddy Spud followed her. The dog leaped, too, teeth bared, straight at Spud’s tail, but Doreen caught him first. She hugged him while he struggled.
“Easy, boy, easy,” she said. With the dog in her arms, she jumped straight up out of the hole and landed on the garbage heap. She pulled some rope out of her utility belt, tied it around his neck, and secured him to a post. Embedded in the post was one of those creepy buzzing doll-eyed bug-machine things. Doreen yanked it out and smashed it.
“We gotta do something about the dogs around here,” she said. “They aren’t happy, and they sure as heck aren’t making squirrel lives any easier.”
But no squirrels were listening to her. They were all gathered under and around Dante, sniffing him, tickling him with their tails, leaping over his head in joyful acrobatics that made him squeal with pleasure.
“Squirrels sure like babies,” said Doreen.
Tippy-Toe sneezed, the kind of sneeze that meant, We don’t just like babies, we adore babies.
Then Tippy-Toe sneezed a can-I-get-your-attention sneeze. The squirrels’ gleeful chirps hushed and they looked to Tippy-Toe, who stood high on a discarded lamp. From that stage, Tippy-Toe recounted many tales from squirrel folklore. It was humans who first stole squirrels from the forests and brought them into the park. The squirrels didn’t trust the humans and wouldn’t stay. And just try keeping squirrels somewhere they don’t want to be.
But then one day the park added a playground and sandbox. And the playground and sandbox attracted babies.
“Chkkt,” said Tippy-Toe.
The other squirrels nodded. “Chkkt,” they said in unison.
Babies. Babies smelled interesting. They spoke a language more full of coo than chuk, but it clearly had developed from the same morphological root as Chitterspeak.66 And most importantly, babies were always dropping food. Squirrels were certain that the food-dropping thing was on purpose: babies recognized squirrels as significant beings and so made them offerings in the form of delicious sidewalk food. Squirrel folklore was full of stories about babies dropping treasures like peanut butter sandwiches, peeled bananas, half-full packets of gummy bears, and on one legendary occasion, an entire hazelnut layer cake (frosted).
Not to mention that babies were closer to squirrel size than to human size. Plus the “cute” thing.
All this made babies and squirrels natural allies. Once babies had entered the parks, squirrels decided it must be safe for them as well. Wherever squirrels roamed, they watched out for babies. And in turn, babies honored squirrels with coos, drool, and the occasional upended baggie of honey nut cereal.
“Chkkt-chuky chook,” said Tippy-Toe.
And the squirrels nodded solemnly.
Dante made a wet raspberry sound. The nearby squirrels who were splashed with his saliva smeared it across their foreheads like war paint.
Big Daddy Spud cleared his throat, making a tiny squeak. The other squirrels paused their adoration of the baby. Spud then spoke many things in Chitterspeak that basically amounted to this:
This Squirrel Girl is good.
1. She smells like nuts. This means she is wise.
2. She has a tail. This means she is mighty.
3. She speaks the blessed tongue. This means she is big-brained.
4. She fights the dogs for us. This means she is fearless.
5. She is a friend to babies. This means she is not evil.
Then Big Daddy Spud climbed up Squirrel Girl as if she were the trunk of a tree, put his paw on her cheek, and tickled her ear with his tail.
“Chktt-kit,” he said.
Doreen’s throat closed off
, her eyes got wet. She’d only just met him, but he too accepted her by her treasured secret name: Squirrel Girl.
“Thank you,” she managed to say.
Dozens of squirrels did the same, one after another, telling her their names and welcoming her into the clan. Chktt-kit. And when they spoke her name, they called her Squirrel Girl.
Doreen was so happy she sniffled, and her vision went fishbowl with the wetness of happy tears. It is a truly magical feeling to be hugged by a hundred squirrels at the same time.67
“Thanks, amigos,” said Doreen. “I’ve never really belonged to a clan—”
She got too sniffly to say anything more. But squirrels get it. They get emotion. They twitched their tails. And Dante spoke for everyone as he declared, “Gaga-booga!”
“Anyhoo,” said Doreen after a minute, wiping her eyes, “the dogs have been a problem. Tippy and I figured out they’re super-bugged by these buzzing things that look like…” Doreen cocked her head, listening. She followed a faint buzz to another tiny metal bug clamped to the side of the old restaurant. “Like this! Let’s find and destroy all the bugs in this lot so it can be a safe zone for the dogs. They’ll want to stay here where they won’t go cuckoo from the high-pitched bug sounds, and then squirrels will be safe from roaming dogs everywhere else. A plan?”
Doreen strapped Dante back into her carrier, this time with his belly facing hers. And she began to run. He laid his head on her chest and soon fell asleep, while she located, grabbed, leashed, and hauled the wild dogs back to the empty lot, where the squirrels had cleared out all the strange buzzing metal bugs. Relieved of that awful high-pitched noise, the exhausted dogs curled up and fell asleep.
Sleeping dogs, sleeping baby—the strange evening ended on such a restful note. And yet Doreen couldn’t relax. Who was MM? And what was their plan?
DOREEN
Doreen really did mean to tell her parents that she’d broken the no-tail rule again. She’d planned on confessing over their traditional Saturday-morning banana pancakes party and cartoon-a-thon. But she was so pooped from debugging the dog lot and racing back to the Santinos’ before they got home, not to mention worrying about MM till past midnight, she slept in. Oh well. She could confess it that night over their traditional Saturday-night calzone fest and Scrabble tournament.
After her noon breakfast, she grabbed her twenty-six dollars of babysitting money and headed toward the corner market to see how much dog food she could buy. She worried there wasn’t enough garbage for them to forage at the dump. It was a shame Shady Oaks didn’t have an animal shelter.
Just as she opened the door to enter the market, a frizzy-haired woman was exiting, a six-pack of powdered doughnuts under her arm. Looking toward the parking lot, the woman stopped short and dropped the plastic container. It cracked open on the sidewalk.
“My car…” The woman began to breathe hard. “Someone took my car.”
A blond woman coming out of the store heard her. “That’s terrible! Was it stolen? You should call nine-one-one.”
Doreen made a pivot and walked away from the store. She ducked behind a tree and checked her backpack for her hoodie. The sight of it gave her heart a thrill, and her tail twitched in her pants. No. No! She couldn’t chase down a car, and in broad daylight no less.
“Chikka chik chuck?” chirped Tippy-Toe, hanging out on a branch above Doreen’s head.
“Yes, I think those doughnuts are fair game,” Doreen replied. “Adult humans believe sidewalks ruin doughnuts.”
“Chikka chek.”
“I know, T-Toe, humans are weird,” said Doreen. “Knock yourself out.”
Tippy-Toe leaped out of the tree and scurried around the frizzy-haired woman’s feet. Then the squirrel deftly extracted a doughnut the size of her head, before scurrying away. The woman didn’t notice. She was just standing there hyperventilating, staring at the empty parking spot.
“Honey, you want me to call nine-one-one for you?” the blond woman was asking. “What color is your car?”
“Maroon. It’s maroon,” said the hyperventilating woman. “I left the keys in the ignition. I was just going in the store for a second, and Rodney was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him up, the day is warm so I wanted the air conditioning on for him….”
“Wait, who’s Rodney?”
“Rodney is my baby,” croaked the woman. “My baby was in the car.” She snapped out of her daze, shook the other woman by the lapels, and yelled, “MY BABY IS IN THAT CAR!”
“That tears it,” Doreen said. She pulled her hood over her head and freed her tail. “It’s Squirrel Time!” Doreen said. She didn’t love that she said it, but it just felt like a catchphrase moment.68
Doreen scrambled up the trunk of the tree to the highest branch and leaped, searching for a landing spot in midair. A roof! That would do. She leaned toward the roof and landed softly feetfirst into a run and kept running, kept leaping, from roof to roof till she found a three-story house with a wide view.
Yes, it was daytime. Yes, she was still grounded. Yes, she’d never run across strangers’ rooftops before like this. But…a baby!
Plus, never, ever in her fourteen years had she ever felt so perfectly awesome.
Tippy-Toe caught up and hopped onto her shoulder. The fur around the squirrel’s mouth was dusted white with powdered sugar.
“We’re looking for a maroon car, Tip,” said Doreen.
“Chuk chuk?”
“You’re right, maroon is a weird word. I think it means brownish-red? The car was stolen, Tip.”
Tippy-Toe shrugged and casually licked her fur clean of sugar.
“And there was a baby inside.”
Tippy-Toe sat boldly upright. Never had a squirrel’s eyes been filled with such righteous anger.
“Chikay?” Tippy-Toe whispered.
“No,” Doreen said. “Not Dante. But still a baby. Named Rodney, I think.”
Tippy nodded. She opened wide her toothy mouth and screeched. From all over the neighborhood, squirrels screeched with anger and readiness in response.
Squirrels really, really like babies.
“Chikky chuk,” came a distant squirrel call.
Tippy-Toe began to dance and point.
“I heard it!” said Doreen. “One of our furry-tailed friends has spotted a maroon car driving past the deli that smells like cheese! Let’s go, battle squirrel.”
Together, girl and squirrel leaped off the roof and onto the next and the next.
They were crossing the last house on the row. In front of them ran a street.
“That road looks too wide,” said Doreen. “I’ve never jumped that far.”
Ana Sofía said Doreen could leap thirty feet. Was that thirty feet?
She didn’t have time to measure, and she didn’t slow. She leaped—across the sidewalk, above two lanes of street, over rushing cars, and onto the far sidewalk.
“Whoa,” said Doreen, once her breath had caught up with her.
“Chik,” said Tippy-Toe.
“Aw, thanks, T. I am awesome sometimes.”
Up a tree, onto the next roof, and down another row, and Doreen spotted the maroon car driving erratically.
“Huh, it looks more brownish-purple to me, Tip.”
Tippy-Toe squeaked in agreement.
“Stay back, T, let me take the car, okay? Squirrels and cars don’t mix.”
She was running at the same speed as the car along rooftops parallel to the street. She wished she knew how fast it was going so she could tell Ana Sofía later. The light turned red. Would it stop? Not a chance. When it sped through the red light, Doreen leaped from a roof onto a streetlight and then down hard onto the roof of the car.69
She lowered her head upside down to peer in through the windshield. She saw an upside-down white man with a beard in an orange jacket. Though probably he wasn’t actually upside-down. She was the upside-down one. In the backseat, snuggled tight in his car seat, was a six-month-old baby, fast asleep.
&nb
sp; “Aah!” said the driver, startled by upside-down Doreen.
“Excuse me, I think you should stop the car now,” she said.
His widened eyes narrowed. He turned the steering wheel fast, as if to throw her off the car. Which was just rude. She had to dig her claws into the metal roof to keep from falling off.
“Stop that!” she said, peeking down again once he’d stopped swerving. “And don’t be such a jerk. Just pull over, okay?”
He swerved again. She clung on.
“Jerk,” she muttered.
But when she poked her head down again, she saw that the swerving and the screaming70 had awakened the adorable little baby, and he was looking around with round, startled eyes.
“Oh no, don’t cry!” said Doreen.
“What are you talking about?” asked the man. “I’m not crying! I’m perfectly at peace with my career choices!”
“Boo!” said Doreen to the baby, popping her head down against the windshield and up again, down and up. “Boo! Boo!”
“Wha…what are you doing, you freak?” he shouted.
“Boo!”
The baby smiled.
The man swerved, just like a jerk would do.
Clearly he wasn’t going to pull over. Doreen had seen a show once where someone cut a gas line to make a car stop. So Doreen slid down the windshield and perched on the front of the car. The car was going fast, and the ride was bumpy. Her tail shot out, helping her keep her balance on the narrow front bumper. The hood wouldn’t unlatch, so she had to force it open with a shuddering screech of bending metal.
“Which one is the gas line?” she asked, just in case the driver decided to quit being a jerk and help her out.
“You’re the one who’s crying, probably!” he said. “’Cause you’re the one with a freaky huge tail!”
Doreen shook her head. It was so sad, the way jealousy over their lack of tails made people say rude things.
She sliced a tube with her claw. Blue liquid oozed out. Not the gas line.
“Oops, um, FYI, better not try to use any windshield-wiping fluid.”
The car careened through another red light and sideswiped a minivan. It tilted onto two tires and then came back down hard on all four. Doreen’s claws cut holes into the hood. She pulled it down to check on the baby. Rodney’s eyes were freaked-out round again, his little dimpled chin quivering.
