Joey turned to look up at Ms. Harris. “Wow, mules can carry three times as much as horses? And they’re stronger than camels, too. Why doesn’t everyone use mules?”
Ms. Harris laughed. “That’s a good question, Joey. Maybe there are some ways horses are better. I don’t know. But it could come down to belief. Belief is often stronger than fact—”
“That’s weird, Melvin always says that.”
“Melvin?”
“Yeah, my cat.”
“Of course.”
The door opened, and Miss Ann walked in with a male staff member. “It’s all set, Barbara. We’ll set up the pool and pen at the Joneses’ tomorrow then bring Naja over on Thursday,” he said.
“We’re getting a pool?” Joey said.
“It’s for Naja, boo,” Miss Ann said. “That will be one of your jobs, keeping kids out. It’s not very big—like a wading pool.”
Joey turned back to the computer and crossed his arms. “Great. Another way to be popular—get a pool no one can go in.”
“Someone’s still mad about the no-possum rule,” his mother said to Ms. Harris.
“You know, Joey, you’ll have to take over for us. Helping Naja exercise. Give her the best chance of flying again.” Ms. Harris leaned across Joey and pressed keys on the computer.
“She will be able to fly again, right?” Joey said.
Ms. Harris fiddled with the computer, then handed Joey a computer flash drive. “You just never know with these things. Sometimes birds recover fully from even the most terrible fractures to their wings, and other times, even the smallest crack never heals right. We’ll have to wait and see. But going home with you guys is the best thing for her. She won’t have to see all these other geese flying around. We think that’s what’s depressing her. Plus, Naja’s really bonded with your mom.”
“I guess,” Joey said, looking rather glum.
“You guess what, young man?” Miss Ann said.
“I guess I can help Naja. And I guess I can share my mom with a goose.”
21
CARTOON BLUE SKY
It was a glorious May morning on Wednesday, with a cartoon blue sky. There was no wind—like the world was holding its breath. Animals gathered under, and on, the raccoons’ tree. There were the rats, Reggie and Tessa; Simone, the skunk; and Esmeralda, the opossum. The orange-and-white cat Oswald had met in the park came, after Tiny convinced her Oswald was a nice guy underneath. Her name was Queenie. There were two squirrels—or maybe there were three. It was hard to tell because they kept chasing each other around the tree. A crow named Frank waited on a low branch. And of course, there were the raccoons, Tiny, Mo, and Chuck.
Some of the animals yawned and stretched, struggling to stay awake, as this was their normal bedtime. Tiny ambled up to the front of the crowd. Oswald sat next to him.
“Thank you, everyone, for participating in this exciting animal-human event,” Tiny said. “We will be helping a Mr. Joseph Carlton Jones, human, aged ten, in his biology class today. Now I turn you over to our director, Oswald, the opossum of Perry Street.” There was a round of paws applause. Oswald was surprised at how nervous he was. I need to get used to public speaking—fame will have its demands. He stared at the small crowd, wrapping and unwrapping his tail around his front leg—that nervous habit of his.
“Psst. Oz,” Chuck whispered from the sidelines.
Oswald shook his head as though coming out of a dream. “Yes, yes. First I want to thank all of you for your generosity and hospitality over these past few days. I am grateful for your help as we push the boundaries of animal-human relations. With this project, we will march into the future and leave the past behind, which will place us squarely in a new present, which used to be our future, and will soon be our past—”
Tiny bustled up and clapped his paw on Oswald’s back. “Thank you, Oswald, for that inspiring speech. A big round of applause for our director, Mr. Oswald.”
Oswald bowed at the applause but was confused. He hadn’t realized he’d finished.
“Please, everyone, line up in the following order.” Tiny slipped the clipboard made of a cup lid out of Oswald’s clenched paw.
“Let’s see . . . Reggie and Tessa, you’re first, then the squirrels, followed by the opossum, Esmeralda.” Tiny waited while these animals got in line.
“Next we have Chuck, to represent raccoon tails, then Queenie the cat, and last but not least, Simone Skunk. Mo, you’ll take up the rear,” Tiny continued.
“Oh, thanks—behind the skunk?” Mo said.
There was a bustling noise across the grass toward the tree. Pixie. “Don’t worry—I wouldn’t let you all down,” she called out. She stopped next to Tiny and stood on her hind paws, panting. She had a dish towel wrapped around her with a twig stuck through as a fastener.
“Oh no,” Mo said, not quite under his breath.
“What’s with the towel?” Reggie said.
“I couldn’t go naked. Not in front of all those children.” Pixie smiled, her long front teeth twinkling along with her glasses.
The animals gave a collective groan.
“Naked? We’re animals. We have fur, for Pete’s sake—” Mo started.
Pixie batted her eyes. “Who’s Pete? Introduce me!” She adjusted her towel, and tripped on it.
No one said anything for a moment. After Pixie had seen the truth and let Oswald go on Sunday, the animals had been working together to do the presentation at Joey’s school today, like Oswald had promised. It turned out that most animals wanted to improve animal-human relations. There had been so many misunderstandings over the years.
But Pixie got on everyone’s nerves. She was loud, interrupted all the time, and had a lot of goofy ideas. She made it hard to get anything done. They’d decided to do the school presentation without her and lied about when they were going—they’d told her it was this afternoon, rather than in the morning.
Although Oswald found her annoying at times, too, he also knew what it was like to be Pixie. He knew what it was like when everyone you cared about found you annoying and how sometimes you might not even realize it. He’d felt bad about lying to her to try to keep her from coming, but felt he couldn’t go against everyone else’s wishes. He stepped forward.
“That’s lovely of you to help, Pixie. You can show the children how the fur on your tail stands on end when you’re scared.”
“Like mine,” Queenie chimed in.
There was another round of groans from most of the other animals, but not as loud this time.
“Yes, why don’t you line up behind Queenie, then?” Oswald said. Pixie grinned and loped to her place in line.
“Caw, caw. What about me?” Frank, the crow, said from his perch on the tree.
“You’ll fly above us. We need your help crossing Eastern Avenue,” Oswald said, then took the clipboard back from Tiny.
“Before we start, let’s review our assignments one more time,” Oswald said.
The group complained some more, but Oswald continued. “Reggie and Tessa, you will explain how rats use their tails to radiate heat and cool their bodies down when it’s too hot. Remember to tell everyone this is why your tails are hairless.”
“Right-ee-oh,” Reggie and Tessa said. Reggie made clicking sounds.
Oswald alternated between looking up at the group and down at the clipboard. “So, those of you who use your tails for balance and keeping warm are the squirrels, skunk, raccoons, and Queenie. And communicating—we all use our tails for communicating, right? And one last thing, Esmeralda, don’t forget to explain about our prehensile tails, how we can wrap our tails around things like branches.”
But the animals had already started to move off, leaving the fragrant grass of the park and heading along Twenty-Fourth Street NE. They followed Tiny toward the left along the long stretch of Randolph Street. The few people they passed either said hello, even though they didn’t seem to understand Animal, or were in too much of a rush to notice them. Tiny halte
d at the corner of Eastern Avenue where cars and trucks barreled by.
“I got this,” Frank said. He perched on a telephone line and told them when it was safe to cross, saving them the time it would have taken to walk to the corner where the signaling device was.
After they crossed Eastern Avenue and walked into Mount Rainier, Oswald was hit with a wave of homesickness. This was his first time back there for six days, although it felt like much longer. Rhododendrons, azaleas, and dogwoods bloomed in front of the well-kept wooden bungalows and brick houses. Flowerpots, scooters, and bikes decorated front porches. Oswald passed a bungalow that looked a lot like the Edwardses’ except there wasn’t a dog in the yard. I wonder how Zola is. I bet Melvin’s having his morning nap in the sun in the study right now. And then one other thought: What if Joey thinks I forgot about his school project? That stopped him in his tracks, like a punch in the chest. He hadn’t known that disappointing someone else, even only wondering if you had, could make you feel so awful.
Frank pulled Oswald’s tail. “Come on. We better catch up.” Frank flew toward the parade of animals scampering, waddling, and trotting ahead. They turned left. Oswald scurried to catch up. They were down to only one squirrel by then, Hazel. The others got distracted going up and down trees. Oswald was panting by the time he reached the front of the school where the animals waited for him.
He looked up the nine cement steps to the two wooden doors. The red brick building was a series of rectangular boxes stacked in three layers. Oswald remembered Joey telling him about “that awful first day at school feeling” he got every year and thought he might understand what Joey had been talking about, now. Eleven pairs of eyes looked at him.
“You go first, Oswald. This is your show,” Tiny said.
“Yes, of course.” Oswald climbed up, and the other animals followed. They were faced with a non-animal-friendly door. Chuck stood on Tiny’s shoulders and used all his strength to open it enough to let them all dash in.
It was quiet, cool, and dim inside. It smelled like wood and cleaning fluid. The floor was cold. The walls were painted cinder block. There was a large glass case along one side with trophies and pictures of students. Ahead of them, they heard paper rustling, followed by a throat clearing.
“May I help you?” a man said. He sat at a desk. He wore a dark blue uniform with a badge on his shirt—Mr. Robinson. Joey had talked about him and said he was nice.
Oswald walked up to the desk and stood on his hind legs. Mr. Robinson peered over and frowned.
“Good morning, sir. I am the director of the Barnard Hill Animal Alliance”—this was what they had decided to call themselves—“We are here to assist Joseph Carlton Jones in his class presentation today.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Animal. And I’m afraid we don’t allow animals in without a human chaperone. Do you have one?”
Oswald didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought of this possibility. He stared and blinked.
Mr. Robinson sighed, scraped his chair back, and stood up. He nodded at each animal, as though he was counting. “You guys wait here. I’ll be right back. I’ll go try to find someone who speaks Animal.”
22
A DOUBLE-DECKER RACCOON WITH A CROW ON TOP
“Go!” Tiny said.
“Aren’t we supposed to wait for Mr. Robinson?” Oswald’s voice echoed against the cinderblock walls. But it was useless. All the other animals were already hauling their feathered and furry butts down the hall after Tiny. Oswald charged after them to catch up.
There was a flapping clatter against a ceiling light, and Frank crashed to the floor.
“Get on my back—no good flying inside,” Chuck said.
A woman came out of a classroom at the noise and peered over her glasses.
“Excuse me, madam, you look knowledgeable.” Oswald thought it best to start with flattery. Do you know what class Joseph Jones, human, aged ten years, is in?”
The woman stared at Oswald, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot. She must not speak Animal. Children sat at desks behind her. They all had light-blue tops and navy-blue pants or skirts. Two held their hands in the air, straight up. Was this a salute? One girl with thick, dark wavy hair waved her hand at the back of the teacher’s head.
“Joey Jones. He’s in Ms. Tinderclaw’s class upstairs,” the girl said.
The teacher turned toward the girl, annoyed. “Thank you, Valeria, for interpreting.”
“Upstairs—Joey’s upstairs,” Oswald called to the others.
“There, on the left,” Mo hollered. The animals, with Frank flapping to keep balanced on Chuck’s back, skidded and scrabbled to make the turn. Pixie’s towel fell to the floor. Then, wham—a woman coming down the stairs with a large stack of files tripped over them. The woman shrieked as she tumbled down the stairs, files spilling everywhere.
Doors opened. Teachers rushed out. Two helped the woman up. Others gathered the files. Students peered out of the open doors.
Lots of voices said lots of things:
“Wow, are we having an assembly?”
“You all right?”
“I’m fine, just surprised.”
“Someone call the front office.”
“Don’t worry, Animal Control’s coming.”
Already up the stairs, the critters bounded and loped as fast as they could. There were doors—so many doors—lining both sides of the hall.
“Oh, dear, oh my,” Oswald said.
“Stop your whining,” Mo said. “Tiny, come here, give Chuck a boost.” Tiny hurried over. Chuck climbed on his shoulders, with Frank still balancing on his. Chuck knocked on the door. A man with short hair and a bow tie opened it.
“May I help you?” He didn’t look surprised to be talking to a double-decker raccoon with a crow on top.
“Excuse me, Mr. Stazco,” a voice said from behind the animals. It was Valeria, the girl from the classroom downstairs. “I’ve been sent from the front office to escort them.” She waved a piece of paper, then clasped both hands and the paper behind her back. Mr. Stazco smiled and thanked her before closing the door.
“It’s really a bathroom pass. Quick, follow me. I’ll show you where Joey is.”
“This is very kind of you, Valeria,” Oswald said.
“Call me Ria. No problem. I kind of know Joey. Our moms are friends.” She hurried down the hall, stopping at room 235.
“This is it.” Ria ran back down the hall, her footsteps echoing and her long hair bouncing on her back.
An ear-splitting bell sounded, followed by a recorded voice from speakers on the ceiling: “This is an emergency. Please listen carefully for instructions.” There was the sound of someone tapping on a microphone, then a man’s voice.
“This is your principal, Mr. Grant. We have been infiltrated by a pack of unchaperoned animals. All pupils are to stay in their classrooms until the problem is contained. And do not touch the animals under any circumstances. Thank you.”
“‘Problem?’ I don’t like his attitude,” Oswald said.
“Forget it, Oswald. We’ve only got a few minutes, if we have any chance of helping Joey,” Tiny said.
Tiny walked up to the door and gave a loud rap. A woman opened it and made that human error of looking over their heads at first. When she saw them, she gasped and shoved the door closed, but Pixie had already positioned herself with her back against the doorjamb and her four paws against the door.
“Hurry, everybody in!” Pixie grunted with the strain. She showed her teeth and the teacher stepped back from the door. The animals scampered over Pixie and stood in a group at the front of the room. The teacher backed up against the wall next to the whiteboard. Her voice was shaky.
“Stay back, children. Do not touch them. They might have diseases.” There were gasps across the room. Some stood up to see better.
Oswald climbed onto the large empty chair at the front. He looked across the sea of young, receptive faces. The children all wore those light-blue top
s. He marveled at how the teacher could tell them apart: they had no striped fur on their faces and he couldn’t see many of their ears; the ones he could see weren’t much help in telling the kids apart. He looked at each one in turn. Then he saw Joey. He felt desperate and hopeful at the same time. He ran across the desks to him. “Don’t touch the animals!” The teacher screeched.
“Joey, wonderful to see you!” Oswald said and snuggled up to him before he could stop himself.
“Aw, how cute,” a girl said.
“Wow, Joey—you know all these animals?” a boy said.
“How’d you get them to do all this stuff?”
“How’d they know what room you were in?”
“How’d they get past Mr. Robinson?”
Lots of kids asked lots of questions.
“Class—quiet!” The teacher climbed on her wheeled chair, and moved it toward the door by moving her hands along the wall until reaching the phone.
“This is Ms. Tinderclaw in room 235. The animals Mr. Grant was talking about? They’re in my room.” There was a pause. “Yes . . . yes. . . . Well, I’m afraid Joseph Jones has had contact.” Another short silence. “Yes, he did know. . . . Oh . . . OK . . . I will. Bye.” Ms. Tinderclaw hung up and turned toward the class. “Joey, the animals have been asking for you—seems a girl in a class downstairs understands Animal, too. You will need to go down to the office after they’re contained.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with this, Ms. Tinderclaw. Honest,” Joey said, then he continued to Oswald in a whisper, although everyone could hear anyway.
“Oswald—what are you doing here? Who are all these guys?”
Oswald, the Almost Famous Opossum Page 8
