by Gigi Priebe
16
FINISHING TOUCHES
“I INVITED SILVER SNOUT AND Widget to the Mouse Masquerade,” Henry told Jeremy as they made their way up to the Whiskers’.
“You what?” Jeremy half choked out. He looked at Henry and shook his head. “This is going to be an interesting night,” he chuckled.
When they reached the kitchen, everyone was clustered around the table. Henry’s sisters and brothers were putting the final touches on their masks. The nibbling and gnawing stopped when they saw Henry hobble into the room. Isabel scampered over to him.
“Can you tell who I am?” she asked as she slipped her mask on.
“Not a chance,” Henry assured her, suddenly remembering how he’d asked Father the same question once. A wave of sadness overwhelmed him.
“I didn’t think so,” exclaimed Isabel, scrambling back to her workstation at the table.
Henry quickly wiped his eyes.
“I hope you don’t mind, Henry, but I went ahead and made you a mask while you were recovering in bed.” Mother Mouse smiled knowingly at Henry, then added, “Just in case.”
How did she know he would decide to go? Henry wondered as he extended a paw to get a better look.
“I made it match the color of your cast. Royal red! I nibbled it from the bishop’s church robe myself.” Mother Mouse beamed.
Henry peered down at the velvety mask he held in his paws. Surrounding the eyeholes were shiny gold sequins, and purple satin ribbons were attached as tie strings. It was the best-looking mask he had ever seen. Henry looked up and noticed that his brothers and sisters had stopped their work to watch.
“Put it on! Put it on!” they all pleaded and cheered. So he slowly lifted the mask to his face.
“Here, I’ll help,” offered Regina, grabbing the satiny ties in her paws and securing the mask on Henry’s head.
Paws clapped enthusiastic approval all around. When Henry removed the mask, he limped over to kiss Mother Mouse and thank her.
Mother gave Henry a quick hug and leaned in close to whisper, “Your father would be so proud of you, Henry.” She squeezed him tightly. Just then, music from the queen’s party could be heard floating through the castle floorboards of the royal banquet hall above. Mother Mouse released Henry and clapped her paws together.
“Hurry up, children. That’s the signal. The coast is clear. We’d better be going. Our guests will be arriving soon.”
17
MOUSE MASQUERADE
HENRY SLIPPED HIS MASK ON and fell in line between Mother Mouse and Regina, who was wearing a shockingly pink mask with a large feather sticking up and out of it. Following the tradition started by his father, the Whiskers family formed a receiving line to meet and greet each member of the mouse community as they entered the dollhouse. As the oldest child, Henry stood near the front.
Normally, he would enjoy the honor, but Henry was beginning to doubt whether he should have invited his surprise guests.
What if Mother Mouse throws them out? Or there’s trouble? Henry worried. But before he could give it any more thought, mice streamed into the dollhouse and began shaking his paw, one after another.
“What happened to you, lad?” asked several mice.
“Did you get caught in a trap?” asked others.
“Oh, you poor dear,” squeaked several motherly mice.
Henry had nearly reached his limit when Mother Mouse tapped him on the back with her tail.
“Would you like to excuse yourself and go see your friends?” she asked.
Henry let out a heavy sigh of relief and limped out of line and over to a nearby pillar. He leaned against it for support and watched while the band, called the Jester’s Jig, warmed up their instruments. Light twinkled from the lanterns suspended from the ceiling and glistened off the newly polished statues of knights in shining armor. The floor, made of lapis blue and white marble, was open and spacious and provided ample room for mice to mingle and dance.
“Keeping an eye out?” asked Jeremy, coming over from the receiving line.
Henry nodded. “You don’t suppose everyone’s going to get their whiskers in a knot when they see our special guests, do you?” He noticed that his own voice was sounding worried.
“Our guests?” asked Jeremy. “I didn’t invite them!”
“It’ll be all right,” Henry attempted reassuringly.
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and gave Henry a faint smile, suggesting to Henry that he wasn’t convinced.
“Right!” Henry rubbed his front paws together as if he were coming up with a better plan. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough, then, won’t we?” His stomach flip-flopped a little as he cast a glance at the growing crowd.
The two of them stood near the pillar taking in the scene. While the queen’s guests could be heard gathering upstairs in the royal halls of Windsor Castle, masked mice of all ages scampered onto the dance floor of the dollhouse below. The band began to play, and everyone picked up their paws to dance. Music from both parties mingled in the air, creating an especially festive atmosphere.
Henry tried to relax as he watched silver-haired mice twirl and glide across the smooth marble floor in each other’s paws. Younger mice seemed to hear a different beat as they jiggled and jumped to the music. Most every mouse wore a mask or unusual headdress. Some were made from paper and string, while others were fashioned from snippets nibbled from royal robes.
Every year, Henry and Jeremy played a game in which they awarded imaginary prizes for the most original, bizarre, unique, and outrageous creations of the evening.
The party was in full swing when the music suddenly stopped and they heard a collective gasp.
“From the sound of it, I’d say your guests have arrived,” Jeremy whispered into Henry’s ear.
Guests seemed to be retreating. Several darted out of sight. Henry snapped into focus. When he turned toward the entrance, he saw Silver Snout and Widget standing tall and towering above the mice.
“You better do something, Henry, before this gets out of control,” Jeremy said.
Henry scanned the room in search of Mother Mouse, but he couldn’t see her through the flurry of confused mice running to and fro. He realized that Jeremy was right. He had to calm the crowd.
Henry hobbled toward the marble staircase, and when he reached the bottom step, he turned to face everyone.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “May I have your attention?”
Only a few mice near him seemed to notice that he was attempting to make a speech. Twirling his tail around one paw, Henry climbed to a higher step and spoke up again, a little louder this time.
“Excuse me,” he nearly shouted. “May I have your attention, please?”
Just getting the first few words out made it easier to breathe, and his shoulders began to relax.
Mice on the floor below him began elbowing one another and twitching their ears, waiting to hear what he was about to say. Of course, he had no idea himself. He hadn’t exactly planned to say anything, but words began to flow anyway.
“I’d like to start by thanking all of you for coming this evening,” Henry began. Everyone turned to listen, and the room fell silent. “It would have made my father very happy to know that you are continuing this tradition of gathering together in this special house that we Whiskers get to call home.”
Henry noticed smiles growing across several snouts and was encouraged. He took a deep breath and continued, just as he noticed Mother Mouse clasping her paws in front of her and looking at him with wide eyes.
“As many of you know, my father lost his life saving the lives of others.” Henry paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. All eyes were on him. “Which is why,” Henry continued, “my father would want you to join me in welcoming two very special guests here this evening.” Henry motioned to Jeremy to bring Silver Snout and Widget over to him.
All at once, the crowd turned to look at the oversized rodents in their midst. They separated to make way as
Jeremy led the two strangers toward the grand staircase. As the group approached, Henry saw Isabel and Mother Mouse slip through the crowd to meet up with Jeremy, Silver Snout, and Widget at the bottom of the steps.
“If it weren’t for Silver Snout and Widget”—Henry gestured toward the two smiling rats—“I wouldn’t be here tonight.” Henry paused again. “They saved my life . . . all our lives.” He pointed to Jeremy and Isabel, who moved over to stand next to Widget.
Mother Mouse looked stunned and confused. There was a flurry of gasps and excited squeaks. Henry raised a paw to silence everyone before he continued.
“So please join me in welcoming and thanking our newest friends and honored guests, Silver Snout and his grandson Widget.”
At first, there was silence, then Mother Mouse turned, smiled at Henry, and began to clap. One by one, everyone joined in until a thunder of applause filled the room. Mice, young and old, pounded their paws together and cheered wildly. Mother Mouse beamed proudly up at Henry and then gave Silver Snout a grateful hug. Strangers were patting Jeremy on the back, hugging Isabel, and pushing past one another to come shake paws with the rats.
When the band finally struck up their instruments again, Isabel was the first to step out onto the dance floor, pulling Widget along with her. Mother Mouse and Silver Snout followed, then everybody eagerly hopped onto the dance floor. The house practically quaked in lively celebration.
Henry watched, amazed and relieved, as everyone jittered to the beat. Then Regina appeared at his side. “May I have this dance?” she asked. Henry nodded an enthusiastic yes and let her help him down the stairs. Mice made way for them as they walked to the center of the room, and everyone patted Henry on the back as he passed by. For the first time in days, Henry felt a burst of excitement and energy as he lifted his tail high and joined in the dance.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THANK YOU TO EVERY PERSON—FAMILY, friend, or acquaintance—that has ever encouraged me in any way. You have helped me Believe (with a capital B). What a gift! I hope to pay it forward every day.
More specifically I want to thank my editor, Alyson Heller, for finding joy in Henry Whiskers and choosing to adopt him into the Aladdin/Simon & Schuster family. Your cheerful input has made his story better and is greatly appreciated. And thank you to my agent, Ginger Knowlton, for adopting me and guiding me through this new journey. Thanks, too, to my UK writing group, Mary, Deb, Lisa, Sue, Joy, Ellie, and Linda, as well as my writing mentor, Patricia Reilly Giff; freelance editor, Rachel Klein; and my first test case, James Kontulis, along with Erica Bergmans and Melissa Thorkilsen for all your help. Nothing is accomplished by one’s self.
Here’s a sneak peek at HENRY’S next adventure!
A MAP
HENRY WHISKERS SUCKED IN HIS breath and clamped a paw over his mouth. His rounded ears flicked back and forth—listening for any sign of trouble. Certain it was safe to continue, he raised the crumpled wad of paper to his nose and sniffed its musty nooks and crannies, then gently uncrinkled it and spread it out on the desk. His whiskers twitched with anticipation as he smoothed away its wrinkles. His heart ticked faster. This was BIG! He could feel it! Right down to the tip of his tail.
A milky white moon hung in the sky above Windsor Castle. Visitors and tour guides had long since gone home, including Warden, the tour guide in the exhibit room of the world’s most famous dollhouse. Sitting on its base, raised to eye level for visitors to view, Queen Mary’s Dollhouse glowed like a jewel in the middle of the dimly lit room. Standing five feet tall, eight feet long, and four feet wide, it made the perfect place for a family of mice to call home.
The dollhouse was never meant for dolls or even for children to play with. It worked like a real home fit for a queen, complete with four floors, forty rooms, two working elevators, hot and cold running water, and electricity. Everything was made to be dollhouse-size, including a grand marble staircase, a kitchen with shiny copper pots, a garage filled with luxury cars, and toilets that really flushed. Even crystal chandeliers that twinkled, a grandfather clock that chimed, and a library filled with leather-bound books were crafted like the life-size copies found in England’s finest homes, so it was no wonder that nearly a million people came to see the dollhouse every year. But the one thing they’d never seen were the mice that nested among the empty cedar storage drawers built into the base. Twenty-four generations of Whiskers had lived there, tucked safely out of sight. Henry was the twenty-fifth in a long line of Henry Whiskers.
The night belonged to Henry! It was the ONLY time Mother Mouse allowed him to roam the dollhouse, and now he was convinced that he was onto something!
Only moments ago, he had been reading, sprawled across his favorite leather armchair in the library, when something caught his eye. It was the shiny brass handles on the desk drawers nearby. He had an idea. He lassoed the book with his tail, hopped out of the chair, and stuffed the book back into place on the bookshelf. On the desk there was a collection of fountain pens, leather-bound boxes, silver boxes, smoking pipes, and stationery. Nothing can look out of place, he reminded himself while his paws itched to touch each of them.
Henry swung his tail out from under his body and sat in the desk chair. He ran a forepaw across the smooth walnut surface of the desk and noticed that the pens, letter openers, and a crystal bottle filled with blue ink were embossed with the queen’s crown, just like the life-size versions that Her Royal Highness used. Photographs of people stood framed in sterling silver, smiling back at him. Feels like they are watching me, he thought, as he clasped a shiny drawer handle and gave it a little tug. The drawer glided halfway out and got stuck. Upon inspection, Henry spied a piece of crumpled paper jammed in the back. Careful not to rip it, he eased it out. He saw several scratchy paw-drawn images connected by lines and dots on the paper flattened in front of him. Instantly he recognized the Copper Horse and the paved path leading up to it, called the Long Walk. He’d seen them a hundred times from the castle’s front windows. There were other things he didn’t recognize, but they had words like Totem Pole and Gardens written next to them. To the left of all of them, near the ragged edge, Henry noticed a large mysterious X.
Henry’s heart thumped faster as he studied the map more closely. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted some small initials scratched on the lower right corner.
He slapped a paw over his mouth again. He could hardly contain himself. A flood of questions swirled through his mind. How could he have . . . ? When did he . . . ? I wonder if . . . ? Does Mother . . . ? Then it struck him. He had to show Jeremy NOW!
Henry swiftly rolled up the map and wound his tail around it. He slammed the desk drawer shut, leaped out of the chair, and shoved it back into place. He gave the desk and the room one final inspection, then dashed off to find his best friend.
He’s probably in the castle kitchens, Henry guessed, picturing Jeremy—who was also his distant cousin—nibbling away on crumbs from the queen’s dinner much earlier that night. Henry hopped out of the dollhouse and onto the exhibit room floor. Navigating his way through the castle, he took all the shortcuts he knew, racing through the heating ducts until he reached Lantern Lobby, just outside the biggest kitchen of them all. He poked his head out of a grate in the wall to check for Titus, the steely-eyed tabby cat who roamed around as if he owned the place. When Henry was certain that the coast was clear, he hopped out of the grate and darted across the floor toward the kitchen.
Twenty mouse lengths away from the kitchen door that he planned to slip under, Henry heard a clack-clack-clacking. It was the unmistakable sound of cat claws on the hard stone floor. Henry crouched, frozen to the spot, not daring to look or twitch a whisker. When he heard the clacking gather speed, he knew Titus had spotted him. Henry held his breath and made a run for it, slipping under the kitchen door just in time, leaving the nasty old fur ball hissing on the other side.
Henry sprang up onto all four paws as fast as he could and sprinted for cover under one of the massive blac
k iron ovens. He huffed and puffed until he caught his breath, then surveyed the enormous kitchen in search of Jeremy.
The floor was bathed in moonlight that poured through the windows high above. Its gleam bounced off the copper pots and kettles that lined the wall shelves and ringed the giant room. The very edges of the kitchen offered safe cover in the shadows cast by ovens, stoves, and worktables.
“Henry!” hollered Jeremy. “Over here!”
Henry turned toward the sound and eagerly waved the map for Jeremy to see, but Jeremy had turned away. Sitting in the middle of the open floor, spotlighted by moonshine, Jeremy looked like he didn’t have a care in the world as he nibbled away on some whisker-wetting prize clutched in his oversize paws.
“Jeremy!” Henry yelled again. “Look what I found!” He scampered out from cover and stopped to reconsider.
“Come on!” Jeremy was signaling for Henry to come join him, but Henry shook his head no. He was anxious to show Jeremy the map, but something told him to stay in the shadows.
Henry curled his tail around the map and made his way closer to Jeremy by hugging the wall behind the ovens and stoves. When he was midway along, he cocked his ears and fixed his eyes on Jeremy. Something didn’t feel right. “Jeremy!” he shouted, but it was no use. Jeremy zigged and zagged back and forth across the floor, following his nose in search of more crumbs. Henry shook his head, then all of a sudden, with no warning at all, the entire kitchen was flooded with bright fluorescent light.
Two cooks wearing white aprons, black-and-white-checkered pants, and black rubber-soled clogs marched in carrying black cases that reminded Henry of suitcases from the dollhouse, just a whole lot bigger. Henry’s heart leaped into his throat. He looked back and forth between the cooks and Jeremy, who had tucked himself into a tight ball below a table, just a few tail lengths away from one of the cook’s feet. In the middle of the kitchen, there was nowhere to run without being seen. No wall to hug. No vent to hop into. No drain to duck down. No stove or refrigerator to hide under. Henry could hardly breathe. Look at me, look at me, he willed Jeremy, but at that very moment, the black clog shifted and kicked Jeremy.
