Grayson asked, “What is it, Pops?”
Brownback shook his head. “The numbers are too big,” he began. “The cost of repairing Crittertown Elementary School…it’s way more money than the children can raise selling wreaths, pot holders, and brownies.”
Nilla sighed. “I was afraid of that. Too many zeroes! If they’re really ‘nothing,’ why can’t we just subtract a few to make things right?”
Grayson and Brownback looked at me. I told Nilla, “I’ll explain it later.” Then I muttered to myself, “At least I’ll try.” Math isn’t nearly as interesting to me as cheese. Did you know that humans in countries around the world make their own special kinds of cheese? And not just from cow’s milk—they use milk from goats, buffaloes, even camels! Look it up—you’ll be amazed.
The rest of the news was the usual mix of natural disasters, wars, fashion, and celebrity gossip. I asked Brownback to let me chew out an article about a peace treaty. I wanted some idea of what might persuade the library colony not to attack.
Just thinking about that huge task made me realize how tired I was. So I took a nap until Buttercup arrived to bring us to April’s garage for after-school fun.
As Nilla and I followed Grayson to the hole, he turned and whispered, “Don’t say anything about the war with the library colony.”
Nilla asked, “Why not?”
Grayson sighed. “Because if there really is going to be a war…well…”
Nilla looked down at her paws. I hoped she wouldn’t cry again. Tears wouldn’t dissolve her mistake with General History.
I said, “I guess it’s better not to involve the children or anyone else who might get hurt or…say something to our…” I couldn’t bring myself to call the library colony our “enemy.” But we all knew what I meant.
Buttercup must’ve smelled something, because all the way to April’s garage, the dog kept asking questions: “What’s wrong? Is someone sick? Did you lose your favorite toy?”
Finally, Grayson fibbed. “Oh, we’re just feeling bad because Brownback did the math, and he thinks the children’s crafts can’t save the school.”
Buttercup grumbled. “Why do humans care so much about numbers? You can’t eat them. You can’t smell them. You can’t chase them. What’s the point?”
Nilla agreed. “I’ve been studying math. And I’m getting better at things like carrying ones and multiplying. But I still don’t see why humans think numbers are so important.”
And so they chattered for the rest of the journey. Meanwhile, I tried to memorize every tree, mailbox, and driveway, because it occurred to me that if Brownback was right and the school closed, then everything might change. I wanted to preserve each detail of our after-school routine against the day when we might no longer make this pleasant trip.
I thought seeing the children would cheer me up. But the third graders felt just as gloomy as we did. Brownback wasn’t the only one who’d been “doing the math.” Mrs. Olson put a long division problem on the blackboard. It showed the amount of money needed to fix the school divided by the number of people in Crittertown. When the children had finally solved the problem, they realized that the crafts fair was not a good solution—unless they could somehow sell over $200 worth of cookies, key holders, and birdhouses to each family in town!
Tanya imitated Mrs. Olson voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to discourage you. I just thought you ought to know what you’re up against.”
Tanya used her own voice to wail, “We’re up against the wall! But we can’t quit.”
April said something in her usual whisper. Javier leaned close and repeated, “Her father says, ‘when you’re up against the wall, draw a door.’”
Javier looked puzzled. Then he drew a rectangle in his sketchbook and sketched a doorknob in the middle. He ripped out the page and handed it to April. “Here’s your door. But I don’t think it’s going to do us much good.”
April hid her mouth as she laughed softly. “It doesn’t work like that, but… thanks.”
Jill said, “I think what April’s dad means is, we just need to keep trying!” She looked around the crowded garage. “After all, what else are we going to do with all these pinecones and Popsicle sticks?”
Everyone laughed, and most of the children took that as the signal to start making something. But Tanya said, “That’s a good question, Jill. What are we going to make with all this stuff? I say we go to the library for some fresh ideas. There might be some new crafts magazines on the shelves by now.”
I knew there were, because the librarian had picked some up that morning. Normally, I’d be eager for a chance to glimpse Poetry. But knowing that we might soon be at war…
“I’ll go with you,” Jill told Tanya. “I could use the walk. I’m sure Buttercup feels the same way.”
The dog wagged his tail so hard that his butt wagged, too. And we all laughed. None of us ever tired of laughing at Buttercup’s butt.
Bill didn’t want to go to the library. “I’d rather just build stuff.” The other boys decided to stay, too.
Jane scooped me up and put me in her pocket. “I know Cheddar will want to come. He loves the library.”
I would’ve squeaked “no” or written a note to that effect. But Grayson squeaked first. “See what you can find out, Cheddar. No one will suspect you.”
I wondered if I should feel insulted. Why wouldn’t anyone “suspect” me—because everyone knows I’m a scaredy-mouse? I chose not to think about that. I simply agreed. “All right. But I don’t even know what to look for.”
“Just keep your eyes and ears open,” Grayson squeaked. “Look for anything different. Listen to whatever’s going on. I’m counting on you—and so is Pops.”
Jane started to lift Nilla, too, but she scampered out of the girl’s hand. Jane shrugged. “I guess Nilla doesn’t want to go.”
Grayson busied himself bending some wire. So Tanya said, “Looks like Grayson and Nilla want to stay here with the boys.” She patted Nilla’s head with the tip of her finger and then added, “We’ll be back soon.”
As we were leaving, I saw April use a thumbtack to stick Javier’s drawing of a door up on one of the plywood walls.
He asked, “What are you doing?”
April giggled. “I don’t know, really. I just thought it might lead us somewhere good.”
Chapter 7 Library Spy
On the way to the library, I scribbled a note on a gum wrapper I found in Jane’s pocket. It said,
Doing some research. Don’t worry about me.
Then I signed it with,
Just keep thinking…happy thoughts! Cheddar
As Jane read the note to the other girls, I slipped off to the basement. I lingered in the narrow passage, listening to the sounds of the colony.
Many mice softly snored. Some cleaned their nests. I also heard the peaceful sound of pages being turned. Thanks to all the book sale donations, the library colony always had plenty of things to read, even without going upstairs.
I sniffed the air. Something was different. There was a fiery smell, but it wasn’t at all like Cookbooks’ roasted acorns.
I wasn’t the only one sniffing. I heard Cookbooks herself announce, “I smell…”
Every mouse held its breath, dreading the word “cat.” Instead, Cookbooks concluded “…foreign mouse” just as I stepped into the basement.
She saw me and smiled. “It isn’t a stranger. It’s Cheddar!”
Cookbooks patted me with one of her plump paws. “We didn’t know you were coming. But give me a minute, and I’ll whip up a snack.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I just tagged along with the children. They came to get more craft project ideas.”
Cookbooks shrugged. “Recipes for making things you can’t eat. Decorations. Toys. Lots of humans like that stuff. I don’t see why. If I’m going to spend time making something, I want to be able to eat it.”
Poetry laughed her wonderful, musical laugh. “Some people prefe
r things that are more permanent than pie.”
Cookbooks shrugged again. “I suppose it’s a matter of taste.”
Poetry said, “My grandfather is napping. But I know he’ll want to see you—especially if you have any news.”
“No news!” I said quickly. “Just visiting with the kids.”
I looked all around the basement. In the daylight, it was nearly as shabby as the post office cellar. But the stacks of books everywhere gave it a certain charm.
Without being too obvious, I tried to locate the source of that strange smell. It seemed to be coming from the hot water heater.
I scurried over there. At my approach, several soldiers suddenly gathered to form a furry wall between the large machine and me.
“Is everything all right?” I strained to see through the gaps between their broad shoulders. I glimpsed General History and several other young males bent over some kind of oven. Their faces glowed from the heat. They wore heavy mittens to protect their paws.
Poetry caught up with me. “Don’t mind my rude brother and his friends. They are…”
One of the soldiers broke ranks and placed his paw over Poetry’s mouth. “It’s nothing,” the soldier said. “Nothing wrong. Nothing to concern you.”
General History looked up from his task. “Cheddar? What are you doing here?”
He glared briefly at his soldiers before changing his expression to a stiff smile. “No one told me we had…visitors.”
“Only me,” I said. “Just wanted to say hello while the children do some research upstairs.” Then I added, “I thought I smelled something cooking. But I guess I was wrong.”
General History laughed nervously. “Oh, no! Just some…metallurgy.”
“Metallurgy?” I asked.
“A hobby,” General History said. “Making things out of metal, like jewelry and lamps.”
“That sounds interesting!” I exclaimed. “May I see?”
General History stepped forward and took my paw. Behind him the soldiers reformed their tight line, once again blocking my view. “Nothing much to look at,” he said. “And you don’t want to singe your fur. Shall we see if grandfather’s awake?”
I assured General History that I had no news, and therefore there was no need to wake Nonfiction. When Poetry started to talk to me, two of the soldiers intruded.
I tried to sound casual when I told her, “If you ever want to visit or write to me, just tell Chitchat to tell Buttercup. He likes visiting here because it gives him a chance to fuzz up Dot’s tail.”
Poetry smiled. And it looked even more beautiful than the sun breaking through clouds. “Thanks, Cheddar. Maybe I will. It’s about time I saw more of this town.”
The grim presence of the staring soldiers cast a shadow over both of us. So we said nothing more.
I felt the soldiers’ eyes on me, even after I squeezed through the passage. I thought about trying to sneak into the library to be with the children. But knowing that Dot lurked in there made me decide to wait outside with Buttercup.
I told him Poetry might visit the post office. Buttercup winked at me. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you? I can tell just by the way you say her name, like it’s a song.”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I explained, “The words to a song are poetry.” I felt my cheeks grow hot as I admitted, “Yes, I do think she’s the prettiest mouse I’ve ever seen. But…” My voice trailed off. What could Poetry possibly see in me?
So I simply concluded, “Anyway, I hope it’s all right that I told her you’d be willing to give her a lift.”
“Any time!” Buttercup replied. “You know how much I enjoy teasing Dot.”
I laughed.
Buttercup ran to the nearest window and barked. Bow wow wow, WOOF!
Jill rushed out the door. “Shh, Buttercup! You scared the library cat.”
Buttercup wagged his tail, and Jill patted his head. “I suppose you can’t help it. You just don’t know any better.”
Buttercup and I waited until Jill went back in the library to burst out laughing.
We spent the rest of the afternoon helping the children with their crafts. Nilla and I found that we could weave pot holders super fast by turning it into a kind of dance. It was fun!
When Buttercup left the garage to play catch with Bill and Wyatt, Grayson asked me what I’d learned at the library. I described General History’s strange “hobby.”
“What do you think it means?” Nilla wondered.
Grayson frowned. “They must be making weapons!”
“Out of what?” Nilla asked.
Grayson’s frown deepened. “Did you see a source for metal?”
I closed my eyes and tried to remember everything I’d seen behind the soldiers. “Yes!” I suddenly squeaked. “I saw a box of ‘jumbo paper clips.’”
Grayson started pacing. “They must be melting the tips of the paper clips to sharpen them into swords, arrows, and spears!”
I shuddered.
But Grayson smiled. “Good work, Cheddar. Did you find out anything else?”
Before I could answer, Jane asked, “What’s all the squeaking about?”
Jill handed me her assignment pad. I felt guilty lying to such nice children. But I had my “orders.” So I wrote, “Nothing much. Just the crafts.”
Jill looked skeptical. “Really? Then why did you stop working?”
“Yes,” Jane teased. “Look at all April’s done while you’ve been squeaking.”
April blushed. Then she said softly, “I call them ‘imagination doors.’” She added, “You can put them anywhere you want your mind to wander.” She had used Popsicle sticks, twine, and tiny acorns to make several small doors. Instead of a house number or name, each one had a label like “the future,” “precious memories,” or my favorite, “happy thoughts.”
“I think they’re great!” Tanya declared. “You could use them in a dollhouse, or just put them on a wall, your locker, a tree—anywhere.”
“I bet we sell a bunch of these at the fair,” Hannah said.
So we all started making “imagination doors.” Coming up with different labels for them was fun.
At least it would have been if my mind hadn’t kept wandering to scary places. What if we did get into a war with the library colony? What if they really were making weapons far worse than anything our colony had?
“Why don’t you write a label?” Jane prompted me.
“Yes, Cheddar. You have such neat little handwriting.” Jill rolled a pen toward me.
I lifted the pen and held it over a square of bright paper trimmed with toothpicks. Where did I want my imagination to go? What door did I want to open?
“What’s he writing?” Javier asked.
Andy guessed, “I bet it says, ‘cheese store.’”
“Or ‘the moon,’” Bill chimed in. “Cheddar likes to think the moon really is made of green cheese.”
“What’re you talking about?” Ian asked.
“Haven’t you heard the old jokes about the moon being made of green cheese?” Jill replied.
“It’s because the moon looks lumpy, like cheese curds before they’ve hardened into ripe cheese,” Bill added. “Cheese makers call unripe cheese green, like green tomatoes.”
“So there’s no cheese that’s really green?” Javier sounded disappointed.
“Right,” Bill said. “And the moon isn’t made of cheese.”
Javier laughed. “Duh!”
Jane looked up from Cheddar’s writing. “It starts with a ‘P.’”
My body blocked the rest of the letters, so the children couldn’t read the label until I finished. I stepped back to make sure I’d spelled it right.
“Peace,” April read aloud in her sweet, soft voice.
“Peace,” Javier repeated loud enough for the other children to hear.
“That’s very nice,” Nilla squeaked.
Grayson shook his head. “Yes, ‘very ni
ce,’ but how do you propose to achieve it?”
Sadly, I had no idea.
Chapter 8 Opening the Door
As soon as we reached the post office, Grayson said, “We have to tell Pops about the weapons.”
Brownback agreed that secret metallurgy did suggest an arms buildup.
Grayson said, “There are plenty of paper clips at the post office. We just have to figure out how to heat the tips. And if General History can do that, so can we!”
Without waiting for his grandfather to answer, Grayson rushed off to find the best tinkerers in the colony. I started to call after him, but Brownback stopped me. “Let him go, Cheddar. I’d rather talk to you and Nilla.”
“Have you made any progress on the treaty yet?” he asked.
I looked down at the floor.
Brownback chuckled. “I know. Peace isn’t easy. That’s why I thought you might need some help.”
He folded his paws behind his back and started pacing. “The first thing we need to do is figure out what both sides want.”
He rolled a pencil stub toward me. “Here, take a piece of paper and write ‘post office’ on one side and ‘library’ on the other.”
When that was done, Brownback said, “We know the library colony needs more territory. Could we share some of our turf if we received something of equal value in exchange?”
“What’s as valuable as territory?” Nilla asked.
“Cheese!” I blurted out. It had been quite a long time since our last meal.
Brownback chuckled. “Write ‘food sources’ under ‘post office’ and ‘territory’ under ‘library.’” Then he looked deep in thought. “Does the library colony have any food sources they could share with us?”
Nilla grinned. “There’s old Rusty’s oak trees! They’re full of acorns.”
Brownback nodded. “I suppose that’s why the colony is getting so crowded. Lots of food means lots of babies. Well…now we’re getting somewhere.”
Brownback, Nilla, and I spent all night talking and writing. Actually, Nilla fell asleep for a while, but Brownback and I just kept going until we had a treaty that was longer than the both of us, including our tails!
Showdown in Crittertown Page 4
