“If you mean having his mind singularly on himself,” Melvin said, twitching his tail.
Oswald let out a splutter. He looked away.
Mo chuckled, glanced at Oswald. “He really has changed, or maybe these good parts were always in him.”
Melvin cocked his head. Oswald started stepping from paw to paw to paw to paw.
“Please, Melvin. Let us do this. We’ve been working on it for days—well, two, anyway.” He gestured toward the others.
Melvin wove through the chair legs and gave Oswald a sniff. “Well, OK. After all, Miss Ann saved me. I would have been put down if she hadn’t adopted me from the animal shelter. Let me know what I can do to make her birthday one to remember.”
Oswald made a chattering noise, and the animals emerged from shrubs and trees. Tiny and Chuck, the rats Reggie and Tessa, Hazel, Esmeralda the opossum, and Frank the crow made their way into the yard. They carried and dragged things. The rats and Hazel screeched to a stop when they saw Melvin on the porch.
Reggie stood on his hind legs, with one short forelimb across Tessa and the other across Hazel. “You didn’t say anything about a cat.”
“Of course we did. Remember—that’s why Queenie decided not to come,” Tiny said.
“Nope. Don’t remember that,” Reggie said, with his arms still protecting Tessa and the squirrel. “Must have been when I went to get pizza crusts for everyone.”
“Don’t worry your pointy little faces,” Melvin said. “I’m not a mouser, OK?”
“My face isn’t pointy,” Hazel said.
“All right if we get started?” Tiny asked.
“Of course. By the way, that’s Naja over there swimming around in the pool. I’ll let you introduce yourselves,” Melvin said then went into the house.
The animals followed him in and got to work. Frank draped streamers around the lights on the ceilings. Tiny blew up balloons with a pump then handed them to Mo, who tied them. It was Chuck’s job to stick the balloons up with pieces of tape Frank tore off.
Esmeralda got bunches of wildflowers and weeds out of a plastic bag and set out to find some vases. There was a tapping at the door.
“Oh, right. Forgot to mention. A few more are coming,” Oswald said.
“More?” Melvin said.
Oswald nosed the screen door open. “It’s Pixie and Simone,” he called over his shoulder toward Melvin. “The band should arrive in a little while.”
“A band? Pixie and who?” Melvin said.
Simone and Pixie walked in, dragging a plastic bag between them. Pixie stepped toward Melvin. She was wearing what looked like a brightly colored beaded lampshade. The beads jingled as she extended her right front paw toward Melvin. “Hi, you must be Melvin. I’m Pixie. Nice to meet you.”
Melvin looked unsure, “Um, nice to meet you.” Then he whispered to Oswald, “Why is she wearing a, um, a dress?”
Tiny had sidled up to them. He whispered, “She thinks she can pass as human.” Then, to the skunk and groundhog, “Hey, you guys made it! What have you got there?” he guided them into the house.
Simone pulled the plastic bag with her teeth, backing further into the house. Pixie smiled her toothy grin. “It’s a present for Miss Ann—a dress. It’s something we’ve upcycled. I hope she likes it. We had to guess her size . . . ” Her words faded into the hum of activity as she followed Simone.
Melvin looked around at the hubbub. “We’ve got to keep it down. Miss Ann’s gone upstairs for a nap before the party.”
“I’ll go tell them,” Oz said. “And where’s Joey?” He felt a pang of warmth and longing at saying his name.
“He’s next door, making a cake with Mrs. Edwards. It’s a surprise,” Melvin said.
“Got it,” Oswald said then scampered off to oversee the party preparations. Streamers were going up, chairs were being pushed to different places, Reggie was arranging a load of pizza crusts he’d collected just for the party, and Chuck and Mo were on the couch plumping pillows.
“That’s OK, guys, I think the pillows are fine,” Oz said.
“Just wanted to check,” Chuck said.
“Hey, I’ve always wanted to sit on a couch—I can see why they’re so popular,” Tiny said as he spread himself out and closed his eyes.
Oswald was relieved when he heard faint mariachi music from outside; relieved because they came, and because this could keep the raccoons busy and off the furniture. “Tiny, Chuck, the band’s here. We need your help.” The raccoons jumped off the sofa and joined Oswald at the door.
Eight raccoons, in long skirts, puffy white blouses, and large-brimmed straw hats filed up the porch. They each carried an instrument case and introduced themselves by number. One through Eight filed through the door and inside the house.
“Excuse me, who’s Melvin? I understand he’s the sound cat,” Number Five said.
“I’m your cat,” Melvin called out as he walked up to them.
Pixie rushed up to Oswald. The glass beads on the lampshade clinked. “We’ve arranged the dress on a chair in the study. I think she’ll really be surprised. What else can I do?”
Oswald opened and closed his mouth a few times. Pixie was desperate to be helpful ever since the unfortunate mistaken identity incident.
Tiny hurried up to them and gave Oswald a look. He put a paw around Pixie, and aimed her toward the back door. “I have an important job for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not, I’m here to serve!” Pixie’s eyes shone. Tiny escorted her out to the back deck.
Esmeralda crept out from under the couch and up to Oswald. “How do you do it? How do you keep from fainting with all this commotion?”
Oswald started to answer her, but Frank yanked him away with questions about streamers, and then Tessa asked Oswald to sort out an issue with the balloons.
Feeling apprehensive about the brouhaha of the party, Esmeralda slunk from room to room, and then into the kitchen. Finally, her natural urge to go up when scared got the better of her. She climbed onto a chair, and then onto the kitchen counter.
“Ooh, looks like one of those mud baths Oswald talks about. She slid the top off the large pot of chili and tested it with her snout. “Mmm, perfect temperature, too. Don’t mind if I do,” she said, climbing in.
30
YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT’S COOKING IN SOMEONE ELSE’S POT
“Miss Ann’s getting ready to come downstairs!” Tessa said as she skittered to the rest of the animals.
“Everyone, keep it down,” Oswald whispered. He stood on the dining room table, the animals gathered below and around him. His tail automatically wrapped and unwrapped itself around his front leg. “In that case, we won’t do a sound check,” Oswald said. Tiny nodded his approval. The Mariachi band stood at the ready with their instruments.
Although he wouldn’t admit it to Esmeralda, Oswald was also struggling not to faint with all the chaos, never mind his new role as leader. He appreciated Tiny’s and Melvin’s help. Everyone waited in silence.
The back door slammed open and Oswald winced. “Shh, everyone!” he whisper-shouted. They could hear Pixie humming to herself and her lampshade bumping against things. Oswald looked at Tiny, who hurried out of the room. The clock on the wall ticked. Tiny rushed back in. “I got her to stay out of the way—in the kitchen,” he whispered.
They could hear things being moved around and the clang of a pot lid. Tiny started to go back in, but Oswald indicated for him to stay as he heard Miss Ann’s footsteps coming down the stairs.
Oswald spied Joey through the window, on the Edwardses’ porch, carrying the cake. He’d be here any second. It took all of Oswald’s strength to not forget everything he was doing and run out and throw his paws around him.
Miss Ann’s footsteps grew nearer.
“Now!” Oswald whispered.
The band struck up a boisterous rendition of “Las Mañanitas.”
The doorbell rang. Why would Joey ring the doorbell?
Ther
e was a soft groaning coming from the kitchen. Why can’t that groundhog keep quiet for a few minutes?
Miss Ann rushed in. “What in the world is going on?”
“Happy Birthday!” the animals yelled.
A man with a woman was tapping on the screen door. “Sorry we’re early. Ms. Jones?” Joey stood on the porch behind these two people, holding the cake.
“No problem. Please, come in. Looks like everything’s started early.”
The moans and groans got louder.
The band got louder, still playing the classic Mexican happy birthday song.
“Joey? What’s going on here?” Ann yelled over the music as she rushed through the house, stepping past animals, over balloons, and brushing streamers out of her way.
The reporter and photographer followed her. The band played on at top volume.
Strange squeaks and chirps came from the kitchen. “Joey!? What on earth is going on?” Ann dashed into the kitchen, the reporters at her heels.
The chili was spilling over. The lid on the pot moved up and down—an odd sound grew louder each time the lid went up. Ann flung the lid off. She gasped and plunged her hand into the warm chili. She pulled out a limp opossum.
Ann immediately started washing the chili off of Esmeralda. Joey stood at his mother’s side, eyes big, still holding the cake.
Ann shook her head while she tried to rouse the possum. Ann did not look happy. “Is this some sort of joke, Joey? Is she playing dead?”
“Some sort of joke, indeed,” the woman reporter said.
Ann shook her head. “I had no idea.”
The photographer snapped pictures.
“I bet you didn’t,” the woman reporter said. She walked out of the room punching numbers on her phone.
Mr. Edwards leaned into the open window of a car. “The barbecue’s off. It’s a real shame.”
“This must be some sort of mix-up, is all. Our Miss Ann would never do anything like that,” the woman in the car said. They drove off.
There was an Animal Control van and a police car parked in front of the house.
An Animal Control officer and a police officer worked together, taking statements. The Animal Control officer did the talking to the animals. She crouched down and asked the Mariachi band, “Did any of you see how the opossum got in the pot of chili?”
“No. We were in the other room waiting to play, or playing,” Number Three, the violinist, said.
“Is she dead?” the raccoon holding a guitarrón said.
“No, she just fainted,” the Animal Control officer said. “The chili was only warm. But we’ll have to take her in for a full exam—protocol.”
“What did they say?” the police officer asked. The Animal Control officer got him up to speed.
The police officer took a business card out of his pocket. “Can you ask them to contact us if they remember anything else? We’ll get an interpreter.” The Animal Control officer gave the card to the raccoon with the fanciest dress. She joined her bandmates, and they headed out of Ann’s yard through the front gate.
Another Animal Control officer walked up to the other officer.
“The goose didn’t know anything. Was outside the whole time. She’s cleared to go back to the animal refuge now. The cat, crow, and squirrel didn’t see anyone put the possum in the pot,” he said.
“Weird. No one I talked to saw anything either—not the band, not the three raccoons over there, and not the other possum,” the first Animal Control officer said.
“Think they’re covering for the human, this Ann Jones?” the police officer said.
“I don’t know. Find anyone else?” the first Animal Control officer said.
“Nope. Not a soul. Just this,” he said and held up the garish beaded lampshade.
Joey sat on the front porch steps wiping his face with his sleeve. Oswald sat next to him. There was a cake with coconut icing on the table. Mr. Edwards walked up to them.
“You all right, son?” Mr. Edwards said.
“I was so scared. I thought it was Oswald.” Joey heaved a breath. “What’s going to happen now?”
Mr. Edwards leaned down and put his hand on Joey’s shoulder. It looks like they’re going to arrest your mom—put her in jail. Animal cruelty’s a big deal—a real crime.”
“But she didn’t do it! And they said the possum’s fine—just fainted! My mom would never do anything like that,” Joey said.
Mr. Edwards straightened up. “I know she didn’t do it—not our Miss Ann. But it doesn’t look good—she was the only one, well, the only human in the house. The photographer got lots of photos—”
“But didn’t the animals tell them she didn’t do it?” Joey said.
Mr. Edwards let out more air than Joey thought his old lungs could hold. “I gather the animals didn’t see anything. Didn’t see how it happened.”
Joey felt worried, scared, and guilty. If he wasn’t such an animal person, if he hadn’t been friends with Oswald, none of this would have happened. He thought for a minute.
“But why would she save that possum if she did it?” Joey worked hard to not cry.
The front screen door gave its friendly squeak, and Mrs. Edwards came outside, joining them on the porch. “Oh, Joey, I don’t know. They think she did that because she was caught. And . . . ”
“And what?” Joey said.
“They have her recorded on a phone call a while back. Remember when she called to have Oswald relocated that morning before you went to school? They recorded her saying she’d cook that possum next time she saw it,” Mrs. Edwards said.
Joey burst into tears. Oswald padded on his paws back and forth, looking up at Joey. Mrs. Edwards brought Joey into a tight hug. He sobbed.
Ann came out of the house. She looked like she’d been crying, too. She reached for Joey and hugged him.
“This will all get sorted out. I promise. But now I need you to be my little man,” his mother said. “OK?”
Joey nodded, “Always.”
“Your dad’s coming. You’ll be staying with them for a while. Suzette will bring you back here to school. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards have kindly offered to look after Melvin. I’m afraid Naja will have to go back to the wildlife refuge.”
“But her flying lessons. Mr. Edwards hitched my wagon up to my bike and everything . . . ” Joey trailed off.
Miss Ann tipped Joey’s face up toward hers. “I know. You’ve done wonderful things with Naja. Your dad said they’ll try to take you to the animal center. You’ll still get to see her.”
Joey shrugged. He couldn’t believe this was all really happening.
31
ICE CREAM
Joey twirled on the chair at the computer desk in the family room at his dad’s house. He was trying to Skype Melvin, but there was no answer. He spun around again, turning the room into a kaleidoscope of brown sofa, red recliner chairs, and speckled carpet. A set of blocks half-built into something sat in the corner. A plastic purple horse with a pink mane was stuck in the crack of the couch. Noah and Mary were already in bed. Seeing his stepbrother’s and stepsister’s toys strewn about made him feel funny—like he didn’t belong, but wanted to. He always felt normal with his dad. It was just Suzette and the kids he still felt a little uncomfortable around—like he had only just met them, each time. And it wasn’t like Suzette didn’t try. Sometimes she tried too hard, and that was just as bad.
The big TV on the wall was on low. The Wizards were playing the Detroit Pistons, an away game. Usually Joey would have been glued to the set, but not tonight.
Joey turned back to the computer screen and Skyped again, desperate for some connection to home. He couldn’t even think about his mom in jail. He remembered hearing grown-ups sometimes say that “things were too awful to think about” and it never made sense, until now. Every time his brain got anywhere close to it, he felt like he might throw up. So he tried to keep his brain away from the topic.
He heard his name from the kitchen, so h
e clicked on the keyboard, pretending he was doing something on the computer. His dad and Suzette were finishing the dishes from supper, takeout Chinese they got because Joey liked it, but he couldn’t eat much.
“You know, Joey can stay as long as he and Ann want. That was one of the reasons we bought this house, so he could have his own room,” Suzette said.
Yup, trying too hard.
“I’ll drive him to school. It’s on my way to work anyway. I want to have a word with the principal if he has time. You’re OK with picking him up?” Carlton said.
“Of course, no problem. Maybe he’ll get more comfortable with me.”
Don’t count on it.
“Don’t be silly. He’s fine with you,” Carlton said.
“Mm-hmm,” Suzette said in that way that really meant, “Don’t be stupid, we both know better.”
Joey was shocked. He had no idea Suzette realized he didn’t like her much. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. She was nice enough. But Joey couldn’t help but think that if it wasn’t for her, his mom and dad would still be together. His mom told him that it wasn’t like that. But he didn’t believe her.
Skype jangled on the computer.
“Melvin, hi,” Joey said.
“Hey, Joey. You OK? We’re all worried about you,” Melvin said.
“What do you mean ‘we’? Who’s there? Move. I want to see.” A rat scurried across the desk right in front of Melvin.
“What was that?”
“That was Reggie—Reginald. He’s cool. You’ll like him.”
“Is Oswald there?” Joey said.
“Yeah, he’s staying here. Keeping everyone in line.”
“Everyone? Melvin. The house cannot be messed up when my mom gets back.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep it straight.” Someone asked Melvin something off-camera. “I got to go. I’ll catch you tomorrow. Love and peace, my human brother.”
“Yeah, love, peace, out,” Joey said.
Joey jumped with surprise when Suzette put her hand on his back. “Glad you’re keeping in touch with your friends, furry or otherwise,” she said. “Your dad will take you to school tomorrow, then I’ll pick you up. I can take you to the animal refuge if you’d like. Your mom told me how good you are with that duck with the broken wing—”
Oswald, the Almost Famous Opossum Page 11
