A few animals sloped off. Others stood their ground.
“I already paid,” a huge longhaired cat said. “I’m never allowed on the furniture; this is my only chance.”
“Mo, give the gentleman his money back,” Oswald said.
“Come on, Oz, it’s only ten minutes,” Mo said.
Oswald got into Mo’s face, his triangular head eye to eye with Mo’s masked one. “You know I have fifty sharp teeth . . . ” Oswald paused and bared them without moving an inch. “And I will rearrange your stripes into an unflattering plaid if you don’t give the cat his money back. Right now.”
Mo stepped back and blinked. “OK, OK, no need to get your tail in a knot. I’ll go get the cat his money.” Mo went into the house.
“And will you critters stop telling me what to do with my tail!” Losing his temper was also new to Oswald. He climbed up onto the railing and ripped down the sign.
Mo came back out and counted out ten cents into a small pouch sewn onto the cat’s collar. Tiny ambled out of the house.
“What’s going on, Oz?” Tiny said.
Frank flew over and perched on the railing. “Everything OK?”
“Don’t anyone move,” Oswald said. The couch customers had all cleared off, leaving Oz, the raccoons, and Frank.
“Oz, what’s wrong?” Tiny said in one of those ultra-calm voices folks save for crazy or violent beings.
“Why are you talking to me like that?” Oz said. “Like you’re afraid of me. Or you’re planning something.”
“Whoa there, buddy. We are afraid of you. Aren’t we, guys?” Tiny said. Frank, Mo, and Chuck nodded.
Oswald looked into their eyes—he didn’t recognize his reflection. And he definitely didn’t like it. He slumped on the porch and held his head in his paws. “I need your help.”
No one said anything for a moment.
A delivery truck pulled up in front of the house. The delivery woman walked up to the door with a package. She nodded hello to the animals. “Says on here I can leave this on the front porch. Have a nice day.” She put the package next to the door and left.
Oswald was surprised how loud rat paws could be. Tessa and Reggie skittered to a stop as they came out the front door. “I heard the truck. Must be that wonderful new lavender-scented quilt I bought,” Tessa said.
“How on earth did you buy that?” Oz said.
“We found a credit card in the table next to Miss Ann’s bed,” Reggie said. “It works great. All you have to do is give the magic numbers and everyone gives you stuff. Takeout, buttons for my collection—”
Oz let out a long, harsh sound and covered his eyes. No one else moved a muscle. When he looked up, he said, “This . . . has . . . all . . . got TO STOP!”
The animals looked stunned.
Tiny stepped forward and kicked at a food wrapper on the porch, “Um, this is more Oswald’s home than any of ours. So why don’t we all cool off and meet here on the front porch in, say, half an hour?”
Oswald exhaled. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath. “Thank you, Tiny. Yes, let’s all reconvene here in thirty minutes. Reggie, you go get that credit card, and Mo, can you get Pixie to come around, too?”
“Thanks for agreeing to meet. And I am sorry I scared you. I guess I’m learning a lot, including about myself, and, well, it’s not always nice,” Oz said. The others listened.
“This all has to stop. There are stains everywhere from spilled food, squirted ketchup—”
Tiny raised his paw. “My bad. I’ll clean those stains for sure.”
“Thanks for accepting responsibility, Tiny. You’re setting a good precedent,” Oz said.
“Tiny’s our president?” Pixie said. Her glasses threw reflections around the porch.
“Pardon me?” Oz said. Hazel started to chuckle, then Reggie and Tessa, and soon everyone was laughing. At Pixie. A storm brewed in her face. She gnashed her teeth.
Oz clinked a spoon against a mug. “Hold on, everyone. Pixie, I know what it feels like to be the butt of a joke.”
“I know you all think I’m dull and clumsy. I know none of you like me very much.” Pixie started to cry.
“Don’t be silly,” Tessa tried to comfort her. Oz decided it was better to be honest.
“You have to admit we didn’t meet under the best circumstances. I think you need to be realistic, Pixie,” Oswald said. “It will take a while before we all know how much of our unfortunate introduction was down to eyesight—”
Pixie’s crying turned into wailing. She waved her large body back and forth. She grabbed one of the raccoons and sobbed into his fur, then moved to the next.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.” She flung that raccoon to the side then clutched Tessa to her, making her disappear in her brown furry mass. Pixie continued to sob. “I didn’t know she was in there. I thought I was helping.”
“What are you talking about?” Frank said.
Pixie slumped to the floor. “Esmeralda. I cooked Esmeralda. She must have fallen asleep in the pot, because when I went into the kitchen, I saw the big pot of chili on the stove with the lid off. I thought somebody had forgotten to cover it. I turned the burner on to heat the chili for the party. I was only trying to help . . . ”
For a few minutes, no one said a thing. A car rolled down the quiet street. A woman walked her small dog.
“That’s great news,” Reggie said.
“What do you mean?” Pixie said.
“That it wasn’t Miss Ann who almost cooked Esmeralda,” Tiny said.
“They’ll let her out of jail once you tell them you did it,” Mo said.
Pixie jumped up, eyes wild, teeth bared. She flung her paw against her forehead and leaned against the chair as though she might faint. “I can’t give myself up. What if they decide I’m a dangerous animal? A danger to the public? They could . . . you know—” She let out a wail. “They could put me down!”
Everyone was quiet for another moment. The tweeting of the neighborhood birds contrasted with the serious conversation.
“You mean they can kill you, if they think you’re violent?” Tessa asked.
It seemed most of the animals knew this to be a fact, given the uncomfortable nods and “uh-huhs.”
“But this was an accident, an honest mistake. You didn’t know anyone was in the pot,” Oz said.
“An ‘honest’ mistake?” Pixie said. “That would make me an honest groundhog?”
“That’s right,” Frank added. “Like Oz said, it was an accident. No one would ever think there was an animal in a pot of veggie chili.”
“You didn’t see her in there?” Mo said.
“No. Truly, I didn’t,” Pixie said.
A lawnmower buzzed in the distance.
“I have an idea,” Oz said. They all looked at him. “You know how they black out people’s faces and change their voices on TV sometimes? To protect their identity?” It seemed most of them knew what he was talking about.
Oz continued, “Melvin knows how to operate a video camera, and he’s good on the computer. If he’s willing to help, what if we make a video? Then we could send it to the police, to Animal Control, the press—the humans who can do something about it. That could get Miss Ann out. And we could protect Pixie’s identity.”
“I don’t know about all this,” Pixie said. “Wait, you said a video, right?”
They all nodded.
“Would it be on YouTube?”
Oswald looked at Tiny, who nodded. “Well, I don’t see why not,” Oswald said.
“OK, then. I’ll do it.”
36
NO DOUBT
Wednesday was the next day Joey could go to the animal sanctuary, because Ms. Harris didn’t work that Tuesday. Joey wore plenty of bug repellent and the mosquitoes mostly left him alone. Ms. Harris pushed the rickshaw toward Naja’s building.
“Hop in. I’ll drive.” Ms. Harris grinned.
“You sure? I’m kind of heavy,” Joey said.
<
br /> Ms. Harris laughed. “You’re a regular bean pole. Come on.” Joey got in, and Ms. Harris pedaled the rickshaw over to the flock disorder unit. They were chatting and laughing as they walked in.
“Hi, Joey, Ms. Harris. Glad to see you—honk,” Naja said. She flapped her wings. Joey opened the gate to her pen and walked in without asking Ms. Harris. He crouched down and Naja waddled up to him, resting her neck across his shoulder. He ran his hand down her smooth back feathers, breathing in the smell of her, like dust and sun.
“Hey, Naja.” He smiled. She was definitely getting better.
Joey stood up and bird and boy walked out, then Joey and Ms. Harris helped Naja into the rickshaw.
“Glad someone gets to have fun around here.” She smiled and left for her office.
Joey pedaled his goose friend down the path away from the building, clattering a rhythm of wheels against the boards. They came out of the shade into an open area of grassland with the Patuxent River in the distance. A path cut across the field on a diagonal. Naja started flapping extra hard.
“OK, girl. Give me a minute, let me get up to speed,” Joey said.
Joey pedaled as he counted, and Naja honked. She flapped, took large, full strokes, and launched. Joey pumped as fast as he could. Naja glided for a moment then landed back on the rickshaw. They did this twice more. Then Naja said, “I’d like to try taking off from the ground.” Joey brought the rickshaw to a stop.
“OK.”
“You know, like a regular goose.” She looked excited.
“What should I do?” Joey was a little nervous, but he didn’t know why.
“You’ve already done so much for me. Thank you,” Naja said. She ran, honked, ran a few more steps, and then took off. Her strokes were quick and strong with the tips of her wings coming into the middle her chest. Her long black neck stretched out. She paddled her webbed feet with each beat of her wings.
She gained height, her strokes became smaller, and she glided. She was headed toward the break in the trees.
“I’ll wait here,” Joey yelled, but Naja had already flown through the trees, over the river, and away.
“What’s going on? Is he OK?” Carlton asked Ms. Harris. Joey pedaled the rickshaw in circles about fifty yards from Carlton’s car.
“Naja left a little while ago,” Ms. Harris said.
“Naja?” Carlton said.
“That goose he’d been helping.”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” Carlton said, rubbing his forehead. “It’s been a lot going on for all of us, especially for Joey.”
“I know. Joey did a great job with that goose. He’s the one that got her to fly again.” Ms. Harris paused, looked at Joey still riding in circles. “It’s hard rehabbing animals. You go through a lot with them, and when it works—you say good-bye.” They both watched Joey pedaling for a moment.
Carlton offered his hand. “We want to thank you for all you’ve done for Joey. Helping him with his school project, placing Naja at his mom’s house . . . ”
“How’s that going? Any news? None of us can imagine Ann doing anything like that,” Ms. Harris said.
“I know. None of us can. But the district attorney is under a lot of pressure from animal groups after it hit the newspapers. What bad luck—a newspaper photographer being right there.” Carlton shook his head.
“They’re keeping her in jail until the hearing. They want to ‘send a message,’ that sort of thing. Well, anyway. Thanks again. Joey’s going to miss coming here. He talks about wanting to be like you when he grows up,” Carlton said.
Ms. Harris laughed. “That’s a first. It’s been a real pleasure working with your son. He’s a fine young man. He doesn’t have to stop coming, you know. There’s plenty he can do. You’re all always welcome.”
“Maybe when all this clears up. That would be nice.”
Joey slammed the car door. His dad didn’t say a thing, he just waved to Ms. Harris as they drove down the long drive, surrounded by fields and trees too thick to see through. Carlton rolled the windows down. The smell of green and river and dusk washed over them.
“Hey, we have jerk chicken tonight with plantains and everything,” Carlton said.
Joey stared out the window.
“What for? Is this a good-bye dinner? You sending me away?”
“Joey! What would ever make you think a thing like that?”
“Everybody else leaves. First you, then Bradyn moves away. Mom made Oswald leave. Then she goes. Now Naja. . . . That’s it—no more friends with animals or people for me. Not worth it.” He promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but that wasn’t working out so well.
“Oh, Joey—you can’t let that stop you. It’s just life, son,” Carlton said while taking quick glances at him as they drove past more trees, then fields, with a few houses and barns. “I know it’s hard.”
“I didn’t know there were this many farms out here,” Joey said.
“Dang, with what you three kids eat—you keep at least five of them in business.” Carlton looked over to Joey, who laughed despite that being another thing he’d promised not to do. He’d wanted to stay mad at his dad for letting his mom throw him out all those years ago. They passed through more woods before they got to the end of St. Thomas Church Road and turned right.
“Mom goes a different way,” Joey said.
“Does she now?” Carlton raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, past the high school.”
“Oh. That’s where your mother and I went.”
They turned left onto Duley Station Road. More trees and houses.
“How come you let her throw you out?” Joey said.
“Let who throw me out?”
“Mom.”
The road turned left. More farms.
“Now, Joey. We’ve been through this.”
“If you were a real man, you wouldn’t have let her do that. I’m just saying.” Joey was surprised at his brashness. But he’d wanted to ask this for a long time.
“So that’s what you think. All right then.” Carlton pursed his lips, stared straight ahead. They turned right past Mattaponi Elementary School.
“Is that where you and mom went, too?”
“Your mom did, but my family—if you could call it that—didn’t move here until I was in junior high.”
“What do you mean about your family?” Joey looked at his dad. He never heard him talk like that.
More curves in the road, more stretches of trees punctuated by houses.
“My mom and dad didn’t want to be together. They hooked up when they were real young. Too young. Kind of like your mom and me.”
“So?”
“Well, for my folks, they thought staying together for the kids was the right thing. But we saw nothing but fussing, and arguing, and hurt between them, for years. Man, back then I’d do anything to get out of that house.” Carlton paused while he turned onto the highway. “Like I said, your mom and I, we met in high school. We were just too young to know what we wanted. That’s what happened between me and your mom. She didn’t kick me out.”
“It wasn’t because you liked Suzette?”
His dad didn’t say anything for a minute. They turned right onto Trumps Hill Road. “Whatever you want to think, Joey, I wish you’d stop blaming Suzette. If I hadn’t found her, I’d have met someone else. No doubt.”
Joey was quiet during dinner. If it hadn’t been Suzette, it would have been someone else, ‘no doubt.’ He watched Noah and Mary. Noah reminded him of a chubbier version of himself. And Mary was smart. She asked good questions and always wanted to know how things worked.
After dinner, Joey helped clear the table, then was excused. He went on the computer in the family room as usual, did some homework, and uploaded it. From where he was sitting, he could hear Suzette and his dad’s conversation.
“Oh, poor little guy. He was attached to that goose. Good for the goose, of course. Why couldn’t she stay around these parts?” Suzette said.
“You
’re asking the wrong guy—I don’t know anything about geese,” his dad said. They dried the pots and pans and put them away.
“There’s been so much change. What do you say we go over to Ann’s on Saturday? Let Joey have some time with his cat—what’s it called? Marvin?” Suzette said.
“Melvin.”
“OK, Melvin. And I could give the house a once-over—keep it straight for when Ann gets back. You could mow the grass. Noah and Mary could play in the yard—it’s fenced in,” Suzette said.
“I don’t know. I’ve got enough to do over here without getting involved in all that . . . ”
“Come on. It’s for Joey.”
37
VIDEO
Oswald charged up the steps to the Edwardses’ porch on Thursday morning. “Ready?” he said to Melvin and Zola. They looked like they were, both sitting at attention, a red bow tie in Zola’s mouth.
“Mr. Edwards said Tiny could borrow it,” Melvin said.
“Excellent choice, excellent,” Oswald said. His tail made curlicues in the air. “Please thank him for me. We’d best be going.” Oswald turned down the steps with Melvin and Zola in tow. Today was the video shoot.
It had taken two days for the animals to agree to a plan and to gather everything they needed. They’d decided on a two-part video: a re-enactment of what happened, and Pixie’s confession. Oswald would direct and narrate—explain to the viewers what they were about to see and what they just saw, that sort of thing. And of course, he would do the reenactment of Esmeralda getting into the pot of chili. Tiny would interview Pixie for the confession. Melvin would shoot the video and edit it on the computer afterward. During the editing, Oswald and Melvin would put subtitles in for the majority of people who don’t understand Animal. And Zola would help with security—help Oswald keep control, although all the animals wanted to make this work.
Then yesterday they got some good news. Before they would go ahead with the video, they wanted to find out how Esmeralda was. “I’d feel funny re-enacting the accident, if you know . . . ,” Tessa had said. The animals agreed and asked Mrs. Edwards if she wouldn’t mind finding out for them.
Oswald, the Almost Famous Opossum Page 13
