“A jewelry box,” Kaz says. “I’ve seen those in windows before.”
I peek into the box. Inside lies a collection of forages. There are bottle caps and buttons and fork heads and toothpicks and a fluffy yellow rectangle that reeks of soap.
“We’re a pacifist community,” the queen assures us. “But if the water bugs ever initiate attack, we must be ready.” She crawls into the box. There’s some light clinging and clanging as items are shuffled about.
Finally, the queen reemerges. She’s carrying a small white oval in her antennae. “Walter acquired this during his travels. It’s a magic bean, consumed by Mr. Turner in apartment 6B every night. According to Walter, it contains the power to make a grown human fall asleep.”
“A sleeping pill,” Kaz offers.
“Call it what you will,” the queen says. “All I know is it’s quite powerful. I’ve been saving it to use on the water bug king, in case of emergency.” She crawls out of the box and secures the top. “But instead I bestow it upon you as a token of our sincerest appreciation.” She passes the white oval to Kaz. “Please, use it wisely.”
Kaz tucks the oval safely under a feather. “Thanks,” he says.
Walter crawls over, and a long line of bugs follows closely behind. “Pardon my delay. The others don’t seem to want to let me out of their sight.”
“Your queen gave us a magic bean,” I tell him.
“Sleeping pill,” Kaz corrects.
“Ah, I’m glad,” Walter says. “My queen has the most astute of instincts. I do hope it will be of service to you. Speaking of which, you must want to be on your way.” He leads us to a wooden beam.
“Best of luck,” the queen calls out behind us.
“All hail the heroes!” the other bugs chant.
I give a wave with my tail and slip under the beam. On the other side is a tall, smooth wall. In the center is a vent. “It leads directly to the street,” Walter says.
“Street … I’ve never been happier to hear that word in my life,” Kaz replies.
“Thank you,” I say to Walter.
“Best of luck, good sirs.” Walter dips his antennae in a bow. Then he slips back under the beam and disappears. I scurry up to the vent and push it off with my paws. Fresh night air rushes in, smelling of leaves and cars.
I bow to Kaz, in an imitation of Walter. “After you, good sir.”
Luxe Canine
TRUST FUND DOG FINDS LOVE
MARIGOLD ROSE VALENCIA THE THIRD, the beloved star of the reality TV show Trust Fund Dog, has done it all. She’s won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. She’s flown in a helicopter over the Maldives. She’s done a photo shoot at the top of Paris’s Eiffel Tower. She’s even been the face of a political campaign, poodles for the president. There’s only one thing Marigold Rose Valencia the Third hasn’t conquered, and that’s love.
Until now.
On tonight’s episode of Trust Fund Dog, Marigold and her owner, Lady Wilma Harris, suffered a shock when a large dog named Rex climbed off the fire escape and right through the window of their apartment. Film footage captured by passersby down below showed the dog accomplishing an unheard of feat: climbing a fire-escape ladder for thirty-two floors in order to reach Marigold’s penthouse apartment.
At the sight of this intruder—a part pitbull, part mastiff wearing a spiked collar—Lady Harris screamed in terror. But Marigold galloped straight toward Rex, and viewers of the show were treated to one of the most joyous reunions ever to be featured on reality TV. A video of Marigold leaping into Rex’s paws has already been viewed over a million times, earning Marigold’s untraditional suitor the nickname “mutt in shining armor.”
Lady Harris has released the following statement regarding the dogs’ relationship. “I admit I was originally reluctant to give my blessing, given Rex’s mixed pedigree. But it has become clear to me that this dog would do anything for my Marigold—even scale the tallest building—and what more could a mother ask for? I wish them both nothing but happiness together.”
A new reality show is already rumored to be in the works, featuring Marigold and Rex. It will be called Beauty and the Mutt.
CHAPTER
24
Squirrel Away
“We’ve got to follow the smell of flowers to the smell of paper to the smell of squirrels,” Kaz says. “Those were Rex’s directions. This is all you, Raffie. Smells are rat territory.”
I scurry into a shadow on the dark street and take a sniff. Immediately I catch the disgustingly sweet stench of flowers. “This way.” Kaz waddles along next to me. He moves more slowly than usual, thanks to his bruised wing. I slow my pace to match his.
We find the flowers in a gated patch of green. A streetlamp glows nearby, illuminating their petals. There are so many that I nearly throw up. “What is this horrible place?” I groan.
“It’s called a garden,” Kaz says. “Humans think they’re pretty.”
“Pretty gross.” I gag. “Let’s get out of here before I pass out from the stench.”
I take a quick, deep sniff. Under that awful, no-good flower stench, I catch a whiff of something better. It smells like MetroCards and balled-up receipts. It smells like soggy napkins and old newspaper. It reminds me so much of home that my heart must be turning into pizza, because it feels like someone’s gobbling it right up.
I lead Kaz toward the smell. It takes us to a large blue box. “A mailbox,” Kaz says. I take a whiff. If I close my eyes, I can almost believe I’m in the sorting nook, on paper duty with Oggie. I remember one of the last things we sorted: that sheet of stickers. Lulu put an I ♥ NY sticker on Oggie’s ear, and even though he hated it, he did look cute. I wonder if somewhere in 220 Central Park West that sticker is still on his ear.
I take another sniff. “Squirrels,” I announce. “This way.”
“I hate squirrels,” Kaz mutters as he follows me toward the smell. “They’re some nasty hoarders.”
“I’ve never really met one,” I reply. “Every once in a while, a squirrel will wander down to the station by mistake, but they never stick around long enough to talk.”
“That’s ’cause they’re greedy little devils,” Kaz says. “They don’t stick around unless you have something they want.”
“Like acorns?” I ask.
“Nah. They get acorns, no problem. What squirrels really want is shiny stuff to squirrel away. Coins, gems, beads, rings—that’s the stuff they live for. Once, this building I was perching on had a theft problem. Jewelry kept disappearing from apartments. The cops would come and say all these theories. It was the doorman; it was the super; it was the man in apartment 8D. Then one day, I fly up to the roof and you know what I find? One of the bricks on the ledge is hollow, and it’s filled with jewelry. And guess who’s sleeping next to it? A squirrel. The building didn’t have a thief. It had a squirrel.”
“I heard a human call a squirrel a tree rat once,” I say.
Kaz shakes his beak. “Believe me, you’re nothing like a squirrel. They’ll do anything—sink to any level—for something shiny.”
It doesn’t take us long to find the source of the squirrel smell. It’s a tall tree. I look up. A wide, bushy tail flicks out of sight. I curl my own tail in my paws. Kaz is right. That gross, fluffy tail is nothing like mine.
“See that hole up in the tree?” Kaz whispers. I look up. I spot a round, hollow hole in the tree bark. “That’s called a knot. I bet it’s filled with squirrel loot. Word is that every tree in the city has some squirrel plunder stashed away in it.”
I watch as a squirrel dashes along a narrow branch and disappears into the leaves. A second later he’s back. He’s holding something small and hard between his paws. “What’s that?” I ask Kaz. Or I mean to. But halfway through the question, something hits me in the snout.
“Ow! What in the name of trash was that?”
Something hits me again. And again. They’re acorns. Another one bounces off my back. “Hey!” I shout.
“Stop that!”
There’s no answer. Just a low, deep laugh. Another acorn smacks into my head. Kaz pushes me under a bush. “What did I tell you? They’re nasty little devils. But
look. That’s the northern side of the street, like Rex said.” Kaz points his stubby wing at a sign on the street corner. “I wonder what that says.”
“City Tours,” I read slowly. “It’s the bus stop!” There’s another line on the bottom of the sign. It takes me a while, but finally I read, “Tours from 8–8 daily.”
Kaz looks at the sky. It’s pitch black. The only light comes from street lamps and the windows of buildings.
“I hate to tell you this, but it’s definitely after eight.” Kaz lies down under the bush and adjusts his bruised wing. “Looks like we’re spending the night.”
“No. No way.” I pace in a circle around Kaz. “We can’t waste a whole night sleeping! Oggie is lost. Who knows what could happen by morning? What if the E word comes? What if we’re too late?” I nudge Kaz with my snout. “We have to keep going.”
Kaz closes his eyes. He cocks his head. He spreads out his nonbruised wing and flexes his talons.
“What are you doing?” I ask impatiently.
“I’m listening to my brain compass.” The green feathers on his neck ruffle. He opens his eyes. “I can feel Central Park, Raffie, deep in my feathers. And let me tell you: it’s not close. Not even a little bit.” He shakes his beak. “I want to get to Central Park just as badly as you. You know I do. But we need that bus to get there.” I open my snout to argue, but Kaz cuts me off. “We’ll take the first bus in the morning,” he says. “I’m telling you. This is the fastest way.”
I close my snout. I know he’s right. But all I can think about is Oggie, spending the night alone in a cage. He needs me, and here I am, resting under a bush, like I don’t have a care in the world. I fight back a yawn. “I can’t just go to sleep with Oggie in trouble,” I say.
Kaz’s head droops sleepily toward his wing. He forces it back up. “Then we won’t sleep,” he says. “We’ll … make a plan.”
“A plan could be good,” I say reluctantly. I rest my snout on my paws. “And we could get a lot of planning done in a full night.” The thought cheers me up, just a little. “Okay. By the time that bus comes, we’ll be ready for anything.”
CHAPTER
25
Make a Beeline for It
“Wake up! Raffie! I want to be the first ones out there!”
I open one eye. Oggie is running in circles around my shoe box. “It’s Ratmas!” he cheers.
I pop up. It’s here. The best day of the year. “Okay, here’s our game plan,” I tell Oggie as I hop out of bed. “You’ll take the front of the treasure chest, and I’ll take the back.” I grab a small white carton in my teeth. I foraged it yesterday and licked it clean of sticky rice. Soon, it will be filled with delicious, sugary treats.
“Tell me the story of Ratmas again, Raffie,” Oggie begs.
“A long time ago, there was a very special human,” I tell him as we scurry out into the station. “His name was Halloween. Halloween decided that, for one day of the year, humans and rats should call a truce. On this day, humans wouldn’t hate rats—instead, they’d honor them. Now, Ratmas comes once a year, on the first of November. On this beautiful day, humans fill our treasure chests with candy wrappers still smudged with chocolate and boxes of candy that are still half-full, and every once in a while—”
“A whole, uneaten candy bar,” Oggie breathes.
“It’s the best day of the year,” I finish.
We scurry side by side up the treasure chest. It’s filled with so many wrappers I don’t know where to begin.
Oggie’s whiskers twitch with excitement. “Happy Ratmas, Raffie.”
“Raffie. Raffie!”
“Happy Ratmas,” I whisper.
“Hey, wake up. You’re talking in your sleep.”
I open one eye, then the other. There’s a wing on my back, shaking me. My heart drops all the way to my paws. It’s Kaz, not Oggie.
“What’s Ratmas?” Kaz asks.
“It’s Oggie’s and my favorite day,” I say with a yawn. I blink in the bright light. I’ve seen the sun before, of course: glowing, golden rays that slide down the subway station stairs. I’ve even seen it outside, just before night takes charge and sends it away. But I’ve never seen it like this. It’s hot and bright and fiery, and it lights me up like I’m standing under the headlights of a train.
I bolt upright. “Kaz, we must have fallen asleep while we were planning! It’s already morning time! We have to get to Oggie.”
“No problem, because look at me.” Kaz lifts into the air and flies in a lopsided circle.
“Your bruised wing is working again!” I exclaim. I flex my paws. They’re not so sore anymore either. I think of the plan we came up with last night, before we apparently fell asleep. It just might work.
“Kaz! Look!” A huge, red bus is driving down the street. It has two floors. The top floor is open: no ceilings, no walls.
“A double-decker,” Kaz says.
The bus slows to a stop next to the City Tours sign. “All aboard!” a cheerful voice booms. “See Times Square! The Empire State Building! Central Park! Hop on and off as you please!”
I leap to my paws. The smell of leaves pours off the bus, just like Rex described. “This is the one!” I say. “This will take us to Oggie!”
“And Central Park,” Kaz says dreamily. He swoops down next to me. “You ready for our plan?”
I nod. I have to get all the way across the street and onto that bus without being seen. “Let’s do it.”
Kaz flies low to the ground. I crouch under his wings as I scurry along the sidewalk. His feathers drape over me, hiding me from sight. “Here comes the hard part,” Kaz murmurs. “Ready. Set. Stairs!”
I scurry as fast as I can. Up and up and up. Kaz flies on top of me. His wings bump my head and my back, but I keep going. Voices drift down.
“Mira la paloma!”
“Is the pigeon visiting New York too, Mommy?”
I block the voices out. I have to focus. Up and up. Higher and higher. Finally, I hop up the last stair. We’re on the top floor of the bus. Wind ripples through my fur. The sun burns down on my tail. I dart under a seat before anyone can see me. Kaz lands on top of the seat. “We made it,” he pants.
I wait a minute before peeking out. A clump of humans is gathered at the back of the bus. A kid points at Kaz and waves, but, as usual, no one else pays him any attention. I feel a pang of jealousy, but I quickly push it away. I only have room for one thing in my brain right now, and that’s getting to Central Park West.
“Oggie, here we come,” I whisper.
“Welcome to the Big Apple!” The booming voice is back. It pours out through a black box at the front of the bus. “This is the melting pot, the city that never sleeps, some say, the capital of the world. We’re in New York City, and there’s no place quite like it. So sit back and enjoy the ride!”
CHAPTER
26
Can’t Squirrel out of This
The bus bumps and rattles as it winds through the city streets. We’ve been driving for a while when Kaz squeezes under the seat with me. “I’ve got some bad news,” he says. His head bobs as he peeks out from under the seat. From this low down, all I can see are the tips of buildings, poking at the sky like toothpicks. It reminds me of the time Oggie and I built a miniature Brooklyn out of forages. We used toothpicks and popsicle sticks for the buildings because Oggie insisted they looked most accurate. I swallow hard. I would give anything to be able to scurry to him right now and tell him he was right. “What is it, Kaz?” I ask.
Kaz’s eyes meet mine. They have a nervous, flickery look to them. “My brain compass is telling me we’re going away from Central Park.”
“No.” My voice comes out a little too loudly, and I hastily lower it. “That’s not possible. We got on the bus that smells like leave
s. Just like Rex said. This has to be it. It has to be! My nose never steers me wrong.”
“Neither does my brain compass,” Kaz says. “And it’s sending me all kinds of wrong way signals.” He flaps up into the air for a better look. “Not good,” he mutters. “Really not good.” He lowers back down next to me. “I can see the Brooklyn Bridge again, Raffie. We’re right back where we started.”
“No, no, no.” My tail tenses up in a tight curl. “This can’t be happening. We already wasted a whole night sleeping, and now we’re back where we started? How are we ever going to get to Oggie?” Panic clutches at my chest, making it hard to breathe. “We have to get off,” I pant. “We have to find another way. We have to—”
“Wait.” Kaz holds up a wing. “The bus is talking again.”
“Soon we will be reaching Battery Park,” the cheerful voice booms. “As your guidebook explains, City Tours has started taking this nontraditional path through the city because we believe that no trip to Manhattan is complete without a view of one of our most meaningful monuments, the Statue of Liberty.”
“Who cares about some statue, whatever that is,” I hiss. “We’ve got to get off this bus, Kaz.”
Kaz cocks his head. “Hold on.”
“After this,” the voice continues, “we will begin our regular drive uptown, ending at the world-famous Central Park.”
Kaz gives his wings an excited flutter. “False alarm,” he breathes. “Looks like we’re just taking a little detour.”
I collapse on the floor, panting with relief. “As we pull up to Battery Park,” the booming voice continues, “let me tell you a little about the Statue of Liberty. When a ship sails into the New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty is one of the first things its passengers see. You might notice the tablet she’s holding. It’s inscribed with the date of the American Declaration of Independence: July 4, 1776. You might also notice the broken chain lying at her feet, and the lit torch she holds. To those arriving in New York, the Statue of Liberty is a symbol of the greatest gift of all. Freedom.”
Raffie on the Run Page 9
