Oswald, the Almost Famous Opossum

by Sara Katherine Pascoe

  “I know.”

  “You know I love . . . we all love having you here. You can stay anytime. I’m just sorry it had to be for these reasons,” his dad said.

  “Yeah. It’s fun.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really,” Joey said.

  His dad smiled. “Good. Good to know. Well, goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  “You know, if you want to talk some more . . . ” his dad said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m cool. I’ll probably want to talk another time,” Joey said.

  “OK then,” his dad said and finally left.

  Joey waited for a few minutes then fired up the computer, slid his closet door open, and unzipped the bag.

  “That took long enough!” Melvin said. He lay on the carpet and panted. “I don’t feel so hot, man.”

  Joey opened the window and leaned out, looked around, and came back in. “Here, get some fresh air. There’s a roof out here and a tree next to it. Should work for getting up and down.”

  Melvin jumped into the open window and hurried across the roof. A branch swayed and leaves rustled.

  Joey waited at the window for Melvin. After five minutes he began to wonder where the cat could have gone. After ten, he started to worry. There was a soft knock at his door. “Joey, it’s me—Mary,” came a whisper. Like there’s another six-year-old girl in the house. He let her in. She struggled to drag her bunny-shaped pajama bag into the room.

  “He’s in here,” Mary said and plopped it on the floor. “He’s heavy.”

  Joey loosened the pull cord. Melvin came out. “Big house. Wrong window. Could happen to anybody,” Melvin said.

  “You understand what he’s saying?” Mary said.

  “Yeah, I always could. You might when you’re older.”

  Mary shrugged. “Maybe. Noah understands animals. Hey, do you want to play Twister?”

  “It’s too late. How about tomorrow?” Joey said.

  Mary’s eyes narrowed. “Mom’s allergic to cats.”

  “Come on, I know you’re cooler than that. I promise I’ll play two games of whatever you want tomorrow if you keep quiet.”

  Mary thought for a moment, agreed, and skipped back to her room.

  Joey locked his door, even though he wasn’t supposed to; getting yelled at was a risk worth taking. Then he and Melvin worked together to put the subtitles on the video. It was faster with Joey’s typing.

  “Wow—that is really something. I knew she didn’t do it, but this . . . ” Joey said when they finished. He got up from the computer and paced back and forth across the room. “This is wild. I mean, this has got to do it. They should let my mom out the minute, no, the second they see this.”

  “The micro-second!” Melvin added.

  Joey stopped in his tracks. “My dad’s got to see this—then he’ll believe it.” Joey paced some more.

  Melvin tilted his head, “I don’t know—”

  “What do you mean? How could he not believe it—and then send it to the police and court and stuff?” Joey said.

  “I don’t know, Joey. He might still not believe it, and then worse—call anyone we send it to and apologize for his ‘over-enthusiastic son’, blah, blah, blah. I mean, I could just hear him, ‘I certainly hope this doesn’t interfere with the case.’ You know what grown-ups are like.”

  Joey plunked down on his bed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  The two sat there for a moment staring at the dark window, unable to see what lay beyond. Joey gave a deep sigh.

  “OK, we’ll just do it, then.” Joey thought for a minute, then continued, “So Oswald did this? It was his idea?”

  Melvin was already tapping on the keyboard. “Yeah, the possum’s all right.” There were a few more keystrokes. “There—it’s on YouTube.” Joey looked over Melvin’s shoulder.

  “Hey, you’re a lot quicker on the keyboard. Would you send the link out? Here’s our list,” Melvin asked, opening an email.

  “Are you kidding? Of course!” Joey sent the email to everyone on the list the animals had made—the police department, the Washington Post, and Prince George’s County Animal Control—with the YouTube link and contact details for “Mr. Oswald Opossum, representative of Ms. Groundhog.”

  After that they tried to go to sleep, with Melvin under the bed and Joey lying awake, mind whirring, stunned and hopeful.

  40

  THE NEED TO LEAVE

  “I think that about covers it, Mr. Oswald,” Detective Bonita Lavender said. She wore a gray pantsuit and a purple blouse. She clicked her briefcase shut. “If your client did this, like she says in the video, this could free Ms. Ann Jones. I’ll talk to the district attorney.”

  “And I’ll take this back to our office,” the Animal Control officer said. The officer came with the detective, to interpret for the detective as well as to represent Animal Control, given Pixie’s concerns about being labeled a dangerous animal. “I’ll see what sort of immunity they might be willing to provide in return for her testimony. I agree—if it really happened like you show in the video, it certainly looks like an accident.”

  Oswald stood up on the couch and extended a paw. There were two mugs and a bowl of coffee on the table. It was a dull, drizzly Saturday.

  “Thank you, Detective, Officer, for your time and for taking us seriously. My client understands what’s at stake here—the conviction of an innocent woman.”

  Detective Lavender paused at the door. “I’ll stop by to tell you as soon as we know. Hopefully tomorrow.”

  Oswald saw them out.

  Frank, Reggie, Tessa, Hazel, Chuck, Mo, Tiny, and, of course, Pixie waited in the study. Oswald was met by a chorus of questions. He explained everything Detective Lavender told him. After much discussion and some confusion, they all agreed on one thing—there was nothing to do but wait.

  The rain and the waiting stretched Saturday out. They watched movies, went out for food, bickered, and napped. Oswald kept reminding them to keep everything neat this time, in case Miss Ann did come home soon. Reggie’s collecting was getting worse. He’d brought back all sorts of odds and ends he found outside—a doll’s head, bottle tops, and a couple of LEGOs. “As long as you keep it neat and tidy.” Oswald could see his collecting got worse when he was nervous.

  Sunday morning, they heard a knock at the door. Mo and Tiny managed to open it. The rest of the animals scuttled into the study or out the cat flap hole, too nervous to face the detective.

  “Hi, it’s Detective Lavender, and the Animal Control officer from yesterday,” Ms. Lavender said.

  “Yes, yes, do come in,” Mo said, still on Tiny’s shoulders, then jumped down.

  “Nice to see you, Detective, Officer. I’ll go get Oswald,” Tiny said then loped into the back of the house. There was the sound of animal voices and nails scrabbling.

  Oswald walked into the living room. “Good to see you both, Detective, Officer. Can I get you some coffee?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. “Mo, Chuck, could you get us coffee, please?” Oswald said.

  Sounds of crockery clinking, water sloshing, and raccoons fussing came from the kitchen. Oswald smiled and drummed his digits on the coffee table. As much as he was bursting to hear what they had to say, part of him was also putting it off, in case it was bad news. A moment later, Chuck pulled and Mo pushed a skateboard into the living room with two mugs of coffee sloshing on top.

  “Thank you,” the Animal Control officer said. Detective Lavender smiled and took out a folder. Oswald held his breath.

  The Animal Control officer spoke, “We think we have a good deal for Ms. X. If she agrees to give the police a statement in person, and her statement is found to be true, we cannot anticipate any reason to detain her.”

  “That does sound fair. But can you tell me what you mean by ‘cannot anticipate’? You might still have to keep her—as a ‘dangerous animal’?” Oswald said. He swallowed hard.

  The Animal Control officer leaned forwa
rd. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I just can’t say absolutely, one hundred percent, what the outcome will be until we go through it all. Say if she went wild during the interview and bit someone—that sort of thing.”

  “Yes, yes. I do understand,” Oswald said and jumped off the couch. “This is terrific news! Let me go get her.”

  He raced through the house and out the cat flap hole. “They agreed—the deal’s on!” Oswald stood panting, looking at all the animals gathered on the deck. “Where is she?”

  The animals were quiet.

  “She said she had to go to the bathroom,” Simone said.

  Tiny cleared his throat. “She didn’t come back—Pixie’s gone.”

  41

  TO SEE A MONDAY

  “Joey, are you sure you’re well enough to go to school?” Suzette peered out the minivan window. She had that worried-mom look on her face. The back seat was empty. They had dropped off Noah and Mary first. He stood next to the car. Don’t go all gooey stepmom on me now of all times. He tried not to show the strain of carrying an extra fourteen pounds in his knapsack.

  His explanation for not seeming right this morning, a slight stomachache, was backfiring. He needed a reason for the expressions he must have been making from the effort of carrying his knapsack with Melvin inside. At least for Suzette, who seemed to notice everything the way his mother did. Jeez, do you all have a worry gene or something?

  He loved having Melvin at his dad’s house over the weekend, and Mary was cool with it, but it had been nerve-racking. Mary snuck him food, although it was mostly peanut butter sandwiches. Now, Noah, he was hard work. Got into everything and nearly discovered Melvin more than once. Joey wondered if he was such a pain when he was little. He’d ask his mom when she was back home.

  That was another thing. Every time he thought about his mom, and he was surprised how often that was, he felt kind of sick. Oh man, I’m nothing but a big old baby about this.

  Although Joey liked school for the most part, he was never as glad to see a Monday before. He and Melvin had worked out a plan. Melvin would hide in Joey’s knapsack, and Joey would let him out near school. Melvin would walk home. He’d made that trip lots of times when he used to walk Joey to school. As far as the Edwards were concerned, they would probably just think they hadn’t seen Melvin for a few days. Nothing out of the ordinary for a cat. Joey was dying to know if Oswald had heard anything from the police yet.

  Suzette drove off. Joey waved and smiled. Finally. After she turned a corner, Joey crossed the street where there was a house with a low brick wall around the yard. He put his knapsack on it, unzipped it, and pretended he was looking for something. Melvin hopped out and sat there like he’d been there all along.

  “Hey, doc!” It was Ghalib. He swung his leg off his bike and glided to a stop. “I see your cat came with you—cool.”

  “Oh, right. He just came up to say hi before school, with me living at my dad’s and all.” Joey said.

  “That’s real decent.” Ghalib nodded and looked at Melvin as though he saw him in a new way. “Hey, any news about your mom?”

  Joey felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Kids kept asking him about his mom. He knew they meant well. Or at least most of them did. Ghalib did.

  “Nah, nothing yet,” Joey managed.

  “Sorry, man,” Ghalib said. He looked glum, then brightened, and gave Joey a friendly thwack on the arm. “I’m sure she’ll be back real soon, driving you nuts like moms do.” He grinned. “Catch you later.” He rolled his bike across the street toward school.

  “He seems all right,” Melvin said.

  Joey looked across the street at everyone going into the school. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Go on, you better go before the bell rings. I’ll come by in the mornings before school, so we can catch up,” Melvin said. He turned to leave.

  Joey got that nervous feeling in his gut—he didn’t want to part with Melvin. But he also thought that was kind of babyish. He kicked a pebble. “Hey.”

  Melvin turned to face Joey.

  “Thank Oswald for me, will ya?”

  “Sure, man.”

  Joey had trouble concentrating in class. He was glad for lunch when he sat with Ria and her friends. None of them asked about his mom. He figured Ria told them not to. It was nice to have a breather. At recess, he shot hoops with Ghalib against a couple of the older boy’s friends. A bonus of being tall for your age was that people liked you on their side.

  The afternoon seemed endless. His teacher was telling them about the Mayan civilization. Usually he’d be interested. But he found himself counting the painted cinder blocks on the wall.

  “Joseph Jones, please come to the front.” Ms. Tinderclaw’s voice barely made it into Joey’s brain. She was standing by the door.

  “Joey, are you with us?” she said.

  “Yes, Ms. Tinderclaw. Yes, the Mayans. Sorry, what was the question?” Joey said. The class tittered.

  She was using her kind, soft voice, so he wasn’t in trouble. “No, Joey. Someone’s here to see you. Come here, please. And bring your things, I think you’ll be leaving school early today.”

  That got his adrenaline going—didn’t sound good. She held the door open for him and he walked out into the hall with his heart thumping. When he saw his father in the hall waiting for him, it took all his strength not to burst into tears. “Uh-oh. Is it about Melvin? If it is, I’m really sorry. But he didn’t mess anything up, I mean you didn’t even—”

  “Hang on a minute. Relax,” his dad said.

  Joey felt relieved, but when he looked at his father again, he could see he was emotional, too. He’d only seen his dad get like that once, when his grandmother, Joey’s great-grandmother, died. That sent another shot of fear through him.

  “Is everyone OK? Mom? Suzette? Mary? Noah?” Joey said.

  His dad put his arm around his shoulder and walked him down the hall. “Everyone’s fine, son. Better than fine. Your mom’s out of jail.”

  42

  THE SECOND BEST NEWS

  “I parked up at your mom’s, easier to walk back,” Joey’s dad said as they left the school. But Joey couldn’t go slow. He broke into a run.

  “Be careful!” Joey’s dad called out after him. He thought he heard his dad chuckle.

  It was a nice day, but it wouldn’t have mattered. There could have been a hurricane. The houses, trees, and people were a blur.

  “Hi, Joey!” Mr. Edwards yelled from his porch. He never yelled. He was beaming and holding Zola back.

  “She’s back, Joey! She’s back!” Zola barked.

  “I know!” Joey bounded through the gate, up the porch steps, and through the front door. In two strides, he hug- attacked his mom. She’d had her back to the door as she’d been talking to a couple of people. He didn’t care who saw him.

  “Mom!”

  His mother kissed the top of his head, “You, you, young man, are the thing I missed the most.” She held him at arm’s length and looked at him hard. “You’re more handsome than I remember.” There were tears streaming down her cheeks. Joey burst into sobs.

  “Can you give us a minute, please?” she said to a man who looked familiar and a woman who went out onto the porch.

  Joey realized the man was the photographer from the paper. But the other person was different—not the lady from before.

  “The newspaper again?” Joey said.

  “Yes, but they sent a different reporter. Not the lady who called in the animal incident.”

  Joey’s dad tapped on the screen door. “Hi.” He looked bashful. Joey had never seen him look like that before. In a flash, Joey wondered if he’d been a shy kid, too. He’d told Joey this enough times, but Joey thought he only said it to make him feel better.

  “Hey, Carlton, come on in. How was our boy?” Ann said. “Was he any trouble?”

  “Not at all. You know it’s great having him around. You should have seen him with Mary—got on like a
house on fire,” Carlton said.

  “Probably up to something, in my experience,” she said and ruffled his hair again, but Joey didn’t mind.

  “I’ll let you all settle in. I just wanted to say welcome home. Suzette will bring Joey’s things and the computer back this afternoon, after she’s picked up the kids.”

  “You want anything before you go—a cup of coffee? There might be sodas in the fridge,” Ann said.

  A TV truck pulled up in front of the house. A cameraman and a woman got out.

  Ann looked stricken. She touched her hair. “Carlton, would you stall them? This is turning into a real zoo,” she said.

  “I can do that.” Then to Joey, “Here’s my cell, text Suzette and tell her I’ll be here helping out.” Joey took his dad’s cell, texting as he walked out the back.

  “Hey Joey—my main hu-man!” Melvin rolled around on the warm deck.

  Joey gave Melvin a rub. “Did Pixie talk to the cops? Did she give her statement?”

  Zola’s head popped over the fence. “She must have. But we don’t know for sure.”

  Oswald popped out from under the deck. “Joey—wonderful to see you!” He started up the deck steps then stopped, looking unsure as to whether or not he was welcome. He cleared his throat, “Yes, yes. Well, it was all up in the air after, see, after Pixie ran off—too scared to talk to the police face-to-face was all we could surmise.”

  There was a commotion next to the garage. Grunting, leaves crunching, and branches snapping were followed by a green-and-yellow lampshade rolling out of the overgrowth.

  Pixie lay spread-eagled, catching her breath. “I came back to tell y’all that I did it. I went to the police and made my statement.”

  “You did it then! It worked—my mom’s home!” Joey spilled down the steps and ran toward Pixie and Oswald, arms spread for a group hug, a huge grin splitting his face. Oswald retreated under a bush, looking nervous at the prospect of physical contact. But Pixie ran toward Joey with her own toothy grin. After he let go of Pixie, he crouched down and looked at Oswald blinking out from the dense foliage.