When Grayson woke from his morning nap he asked, “What’s all this?”
He looked at the letters. “At this rate, you’ll never have enough to send to every nest in town.” Then he grinned slyly. “But there is a way!”
Grayson’s ideas scare me. I still shudder when I recall the time I helped him trip a trap. So with a dry mouth and a nervous stomach I asked, “What do you mean?”
“The copy machine!” Grayson squeaked. “I’ve seen Mike use it lots of times. You put what you want to copy on the glass, type a number, then push ‘copy.’”
I said, “We’ll have to wait until Mike goes to lunch.”
“Of course,” Grayson agreed.
I taped twelve of the neatest invitations to a piece of paper to make one sheet as big as the glass plate. As soon as Mike left, Grayson and I slipped this page under the post office’s back door.
Mike had turned off the radio. The office was very quiet as we crawled toward the copy machine. It took two of us to lift the lid. Grayson grunted, “Put it facedown on the glass.”
I looked from him to the paper and grunted back, “With what?” I thought of Nilla napping in her nest. We should have woken her. Clearly this was a three-mouse job!
But Grayson doesn’t give up. He stretched a foot toward the page. I stretched out a foot also. Between the two of us, we managed to turn the sheet over and center it on the glass.
My paws ached from holding the lid over our heads. It reminded me of a trap! I dreaded getting squashed under it and being photographed dozens of times while the life leaked out of me.
As soon as we released the lid, it fell with an awful bang. We froze, but no one heard the noise.
Grayson tapped the “copy” key. Nothing happened.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Grayson shrugged. “I don’t know!” He jumped on the key with both feet. Suddenly, we heard the familiar whirr and saw the bright light flash under the glass.
“Cover your eyes!” I squeaked, putting my paws over my face. I peeked through my fingers and saw Grayson staring into the light.
“We did it!” he exclaimed as a sheet of paper oozed onto the tray. “Now for twenty more!” Grayson tapped the number keys. “Do you think twenty is enough?”
Nilla would’ve tried to do the math: twelve invitations on each page times twenty copies. Instead, I looked at the stack and said, “Let’s get these on their way. We can always make more.”
We were halfway to the door when I shouted, “The original is still on the glass!” We scrambled back to retrieve it. With my heart pounding with panic, I wondered what Mike would think if he found our invitations.
Back in the basement, the Critter Post recruits helped Grayson, Nilla, and me chew the big pages into single invitations. Then we rolled up each one with string to tie around a mail carrier’s neck.
Nilla scolded. “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me!”
Grayson shrugged. “What’s that human expression—‘you snooze, you lose’?”
Nilla got so mad that she chewed right into an invitation. Grayson laughed.
All the Critter Post carriers were eager to help with this special delivery. Birds, chipmunks, and squirrels spread the word around town so fast that I could hardly believe it!
Before the school day was over, pinecones and other craft supplies started pouring in. Birds brought old feathers, certain that “the children can think of a use for them.”
Some generous squirrels even parted with acorns. Not Rusty, of course. He still thought the whole campaign was “pure foolishness.”
I couldn’t wait to share the good news with the kids. But Buttercup was late!
Grayson grumbled, “Where is that silly dog?”
“I see him!” Nilla squeaked.
“What’s that behind him?” Grayson asked.
The Lab pulled something large and red. Grayson and I recognized it at the same time. We squeaked in unison, “A wagon!”
Buttercup tugged the wagon’s handle and stumbled around its bulk.
I said, “No wonder he’s late.”
Buttercup dropped the handle long enough to bark, “Sorry I’m late.” Then he bumbled toward us again. When he reached the post office, Buttercup explained, “Chitchat told me about all the supplies. So I figured I better bring the wagon.” Then he added, “The children make it look easy to pull. But it’s hard!”
By the time the wagon was loaded, we were so late that Jill and Bill came to us.
“There you are!” Bill exclaimed.
Jill added, “We were starting to worry!”
Then they saw the wagon heaped with pinecones, balsam boughs, acorns, and more. With the twins’ help, we soon reached April’s garage.
The kids were amazed at all the supplies the Crittertown critters had already gathered. Tanya declared, “This is going to be awesome!”
Everyone started working right away. The kids quickly learned that Magazines was right. Not to brag, but having mouse helpers makes crafts go much quicker.
Tiny paws easily arrange balsam branches to form wreaths. And we’re good at turning Popsicle sticks and other craft supplies into Christmas ornaments.
Jane said, “It’s too bad you can’t be with us in art class.”
Hannah agreed. “I think Mrs. Brann would like you.”
Grayson hesitated. But I shook my head and wrote, “Too risky.” Then I added, “Remember when Principal Clark called the exterminator?” I also remembered him calling me “vermin.”
April sighed. “It’s too bad grown-ups can’t know you the way we do.”
Javier added, “Just imagine if people and mice all over the world started working together. Think of the things we could build! I bet you guys would be great at making computers, with all those tiny circuits and switches…” His voice trailed off, and he started sketching.
“He’s off again,” Bill observed. “On another one of his nutty ideas.”
I wondered, was it nutty? Besides, what’s wrong with nutty? I love nuts, especially roasted acorns! Think of all the lives that could be saved if people stopped hating mice. Instead of building traps, we could build things together. Maybe even spaceships like the one that went to the moon. I know it isn’t really made of cheese, but…what a vision!
We worked until April’s mother said it was time to go home. The children were very proud of all the things they made in just one afternoon.
Tanya declared, “This is going to be the best crafts sale ever!” and everyone cheered.
Chapter 5 A Dark Rumor
That night Grayson, Nilla, and I felt too excited to stay in the basement. Grayson begged his grandfather to let us make a quick Dumpster run.
Brownback agreed. “As long as the Postmouseter goes along to keep you from turning this ‘quick run’ into a grand tour.”
We weren’t even halfway to the big, blue metal container when we heard someone chattering in the tree overhanging the parking lot. Chitchat had “big news!”
Grayson was skeptical. “That gossip thought it was ‘big news’ when Mike got a new car.”
I thought the postmaster’s car was big news, too. But I didn’t feel like arguing with Grayson. Luckily, I didn’t have to because Nilla piped up. “Let’s at least hear him out.”
Without waiting for Grayson’s reply, she rushed off to meet Chitchat. Grayson and I followed.
Grayson said, “So what’s your ‘big news’?”
Chitchat glared at him. “Well if you’re going to take that tone…”
Nilla smiled. “Don’t mind him, Chitchat. I’m dying to know, and so is Cheddar.”
Chitchat scrambled down from the tree so he could stand close to us. He looked over both shoulders before he began. “I just heard this from old Rusty, who lives in the woods behind the library.”
Grayson groaned. “Oh, that old crank.” Grayson was still sore from the scolding Rusty gave us the first day we visited the library. We took some acorns from the old squirrel’
s pantry, and he called us a bunch of nasty names.
Chitchat frowned. “Rusty may be cranky, but he’s no fool. He overheard a meeting of some of the younger members of the library colony. It seems they’d been gathering under his tree for a while, and this morning Rusty heard them talking about war.”
Grayson suddenly snapped to attention. “War with whom?”
Chitchat smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”
For a moment, I feared Grayson might be foolish enough to try to fight a squirrel. But with great effort, he calmed himself enough to say, “I’m sorry I doubted you, Chitchat. This is vital news, and we appreciate your bringing it to us.”
Chitchat barely waited for Grayson to finish his apology before he gushed, “With you! With the post office colony! The library’s gotten quite crowded, and General History thinks the post office would make a ‘more secure headquarters.’”
Grayson said, “The library was awfully crowded last night. But how could General History think that we’d just let them take our territory?”
I looked over at Nilla. She seemed greener than the time we ate some spoiled sardines. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head. Her eyes filled with tears.
Grayson turned to her. “What is it?”
Nilla covered her face with her paws and moaned. “I told him.”
“You told what to whom?” Grayson asked.
“I told General History…everything!” Nilla wailed. “While every mouse was squeaking about ways to save the school, he took me in the corner and asked me a whole bunch of questions, like how many mice are in our colony and who guards the entrance holes.”
Grayson yelled, “How could you be so foolish? What were you thinking?”
Nilla wiped at her tears. “I…” Her voice sank to a whisper. “I thought he…liked me. And that he was just asking all those questions so he’d have an excuse to talk to me.” She broke into full sobs.
I patted her shoulder.
Grayson fumed. “You told the enemy general all our most vital data!”
“I didn’t think he was our enemy,” Nilla wailed. “I thought…” her voice trailed off.
“I understand,” I said. “The library colony has been so nice to us. It’s almost as if they were part of our colony.”
Grayson frowned. “But they’re not! And now…”
Nilla broke into fresh sobs.
I couldn’t stand to see her suffer. So I told Grayson, “Please don’t be so hard on Nilla. Who knows what you would have told Poetry if she asked you?”
Grayson opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Instead, he just punched his fist into his other paw. “Traps, poison, and brooms!” he cursed. “You’re probably right. In any case, what’s done is done.”
I nodded my head toward Nilla and whispered to Grayson, “Don’t tell me, tell her.”
Grayson sighed. He put one paw on Nilla’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
She cried harder and then sniffled. “Yes it is! But what can we do about it?”
Chitchat yawned. “Sorry. I know you mice love to stay up all night. But squirrels prefer waking with the sun. I should’ve been in my nest hours ago.”
Grayson grumbled. “But you couldn’t wait to tell us the bad news.”
“What was that?” Chitchat challenged.
Grayson shook his head. “I’m sorry, nothing—just me worrying out loud. Thank you for staying up late to keep us informed.”
He sounded so much like his grandfather that I half expected to see white hairs on his muzzle.
Chitchat yawned again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to leave.
Nilla called after him. “Please…don’t tell anyone else what a fool I’ve been.”
Chitchat turned around and shook his head. “You’re no more a fool than the rest of us—just young and in love.”
Nilla looked horrified. “I am not!”
Grayson turned away so Nilla wouldn’t see him chuckle.
I shrugged. “It’s all right, Nilla. Your secret’s safe with us, right Chitchat?”
The squirrel nodded. “I won’t tell anyone! Not even if they pulled my tail and threw me in a dog kennel.”
“Thanks,” Nilla said, as Chitchat scampered up the tree trunk and vanished among rattling twigs.
We made a quick check of the Dumpster. We found several treasures, including a whole cheese wedge that wasn’t even moldy—just past its “best if sold by” date.
I was so pleased with this find that I spoke without thinking. “No wonder the library colony wants our territory. I bet they never find treats like this!”
Nilla’s miserable expression made me wish I’d kept my cheese-loving mouth shut.
Grayson looked annoyed, too.
“I’m sorry,” I said. But it was too late.
Nilla sighed. “It doesn’t matter. We’re going to have to face the truth sooner or later.”
“We don’t have to tell Pops the whole story,” Grayson began. “We’ll just say that we ‘heard a group inside the library colony plans to attack,’ and ‘we have reason to believe they may know about our defenses.’”
Nilla looked grateful, but also doubtful. “Won’t he wonder about that ‘reason to believe’?”
Grayson shrugged. “We’ll say our source didn’t know how they knew about our defenses. After all, it could just be a chatty cricket or a nosy mole.”
Nilla grinned. “That’s right. I’m not the only one around here who has a big mouth and a small brain.”
I chuckled. “Your brain is fine. You’re even learning math!”
Grayson smiled. “Okay, so that’s what we’ll tell Pops. Then we can start building up our defenses. More guards, more patrols, maybe some new weapons.”
I could tell Grayson felt excited. War would give him a chance to prove himself as a leader.
But I felt miserable. I didn’t want to fight Poetry’s colony. I didn’t want to risk my life—or take someone else’s. There had to be another way!
Arriving with a whole wedge of cheese made us heroes. Every mouse in the colony scrambled for a bite.
I felt too heartsick to be hungry—even for cheese! Besides, we were busy. As soon as Grayson said, “We have news,” his grandfather led the three of us into his nest.
Nilla hardly asked any questions. In fact, she was so quiet that Brownback asked, “Are you all right, my dear?”
“Just tired,” she fibbed.
Grayson distracted his grandfather with plans for patrols and new weapons.
Brownback sighed. “That’s all good strategy,” he told Grayson. “But if it’s only a small group within the library colony that wants war…”
I jumped on this opening. “Then maybe we can make a treaty instead!”
Brownback nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“Nonfiction may not want to go to war, either,” I gushed. “After all, he once said you were ‘a mouse after his own heart.’”
Brownback looked alarmed. “Why would I want his heart?”
Nilla giggled. “Another crazy human expression that’s not as nasty as it sounds. It just means you’re like him and he’s like you, or something like that.”
I nodded. “His grandson, General History, is the one who wants war. If we can offer Nonfiction another way to solve the library colony’s overcrowding problem…”
Brownback started pacing as he finished my thought. “That would be much better than risking lives and wasting resources in a war.” He reached the wall of his nest and turned around to face us. “Grayson, why don’t you move ahead with building up our defenses? It can’t hurt to be prepared. Double the guard at each hole, and change the schedule so the guards serve shorter shifts. We need them to be extra alert!”
Grayson rushed to obey. Here was his chance to strut around and give orders!
His grandfather called after him, “And make a list of all our weapons. Before we start to make more, we need to know what w
e have.”
Grayson groaned. Tidying the storeroom and counting weapons didn’t sound like fun. But he knew better than to argue when “Pops” was in such a serious mood.
Once Grayson was on his way, Brownback turned to Nilla and me. “I think you two are better suited to the task of writing a treaty between our colony and the library.” He winked at Nilla. “Since you’re becoming so good at math, you can help Cheddar number each clause.”
“What’s a clause?” Nilla asked. “Does it have anything to do with Santa?”
I smiled. Nilla must be all right. She was back to asking questions!
Chapter 6 Negative Numbers
The next morning, Grayson, Nilla, and I sneaked up to the post office after the carriers left on their routes. I hoped the clerk had brought in more toasted pumpkin seeds. Mike and the carriers didn’t like the seeds much, but “somehow” they kept disappearing anyway. (Ha, ha!)
The seeds weren’t nearly as good as cheese, but they made a fine snack. And we had grown quite fond of the quiet mornings at the post office, listening to Mike’s radio and catching up on town gossip.
That morning the school secretary came to buy three rolls of stamps. Mike was surprised. The secretary explained that Principal Clark was inspired by the children’s letter-writing campaign. “He’s writing to the alumni and summer people. He thinks lots of people will want to keep Crittertown from losing its school.”
Nilla squeaked, “What’s alumni?”
Grayson and I had seen that word on many pieces of mail. “Alumni associations” were always mailing things about school events like fundraisers.
I explained, “Alumni are people who graduated from a certain school.”
Nilla nodded, then asked, “What’s graduated?”
We went on like that for most of the morning. I was glad when Mike’s lunch hour finally arrived. We filled an envelope with pumpkin seeds and slipped some newspapers out of the recycling bin to carry back to the colony.
As always, Brownback insisted on “right of first reading” of the newspapers, before any mouse could tear them up for nesting. He found an article about the “school budget crisis” that made him frown.
Showdown in Crittertown Page 3
