Crisis in Crittertown (4 page)

Grayson shrugged. “You volunteered for this mission.”

I peeled myself off the sidewalk. Knowing that Nilla also felt afraid made me braver. As Grayson ran ahead, I whispered, “Everyone gets scared sometimes.” Nilla managed a queasy smile.

Luckily, we didn't have to cross any more streets to reach 1147, just a parking lot. A few cars were parked there, plus one long, yellow bus. The writing on its side said: “Crittertown Elementary School.”

Grayson looked puzzled. “The school's on South Street. Why is the bus here?”

“Maybe the students are visiting the library,” Nilla suggested.

Grayson scurried toward the door. “Let's find out!”

Nilla tugged his tail. “Remember the plan.”

Grayson stopped short. “Oh, yeah, look before we enter.”

I squeaked and pointed. “There's a bush near that window.”

We scrambled up branches too small for a cat to climb and hid behind a tangle of leaves. We peeked through the window at a bunch of small humans and two grown-up females in a room lined with bookshelves.

I recognized Miss Davis, the librarian. I figured the other woman was the children's teacher. Miss Davis talked about “learning how to look for a certain book and books about a subject.”

Grayson nudged me. I followed his gaze to some toys in the corner. I love toys! I saw a neat green truck. Then I saw why Grayson had nudged me. Inside the truck was a mouse!

We scanned the room. Mice hid under shelves, behind curtains, among the leaves of a potted plant! I counted at least five before THE CAT entered.

I'd never seen a cat up close before, except for the squashed ones in the postal parking lot. I've learned people go to zoos to look at tigers and lions, even though these big cats eat humans. Why admire a beast that could crush your bones for breakfast? Suddenly I understood. This cat was both terrible and beautiful!

She looked over the librarian's shoulder through the window—right into the bush. I told myself to look away. But I couldn't! The cat's amber eyes had pupils so big and black, I felt like I was falling down into them.

Grayson hissed. “Stop staring!”

But it was too late! The cat wriggled out of Miss Davis's arms and leaped onto the windowsill. She opened her mouth and chattered.

Have you heard that sound hunting cats make? If you aren't a mouse, it might sound like laughter. To me, it sounded like Death.

The students laughed. So did Miss Davis. “Dot must see a bird.”

Dot chattered again, and my paws lost their grip. I grabbed at air and then tumbled down. OUCHing and OOFing, I bounced from twig to twig before landing on the leaf-littered ground.

Grayson called down, “Are you all right?”

I brushed off broken leaves and twigs. “I'm fine.”

Grayson and Nilla quickly joined me.

He said, “So much for the library.”

She nodded. “I'll have nightmares about that cat for years!”

I asked, “Where should we go next?”

Three mice suddenly appeared beside us. I nearly jumped out of my fur! How could they move so silently over dry leaves?

Two waited behind the first, who announced, “I am General History of the library colony. Our leader wants to know why you are here.”

Grayson answered, “I'm Grayson. These are my friends Cheddar and Nilla. We're…exploring the neighborhood.”

I would've blurted out that we were looking for a new home. But why tell strangers your troubles? They might use such news against you.

Nilla squeaked, “We meant no harm. The cat just surprised us.”

General History briefly smiled. “Dot certainly can leap!” Then he added, “Nonfiction suggests waiting until closing time.”

When the soldiers were out of earshot, I asked, “When's closing time?” Then my stomach growled.

Grayson chuckled. “Too long for your belly and mine to wait.”

Woods surrounded the parking lot. Nilla and I followed Grayson into the underbrush. Each step released the sweet smell of rotting leaves and pine needles. Wind rustled in rhythmic gusts, freeing leaves to twirl down around us. This was different music from the songs on the post office radio.

Grayson must've heard it, too, because he said, “Sometimes I wish I were a wild mouse, foraging under the stars for seeds and berries…”

Nilla interrupted, “Freezing; starving; getting eaten by owls, coyotes, hawks, and who knows what else?”

Grayson chuckled. “Still, you have to admit the woods are great.”

Nilla squeaked. “They certainly are. Look!” She lifted some leaves to reveal a pile of acorns.

In the tree above us, a red squirrel chattered. “Get your paws off my pantry!”

Nilla said, “We'll only take enough for lunch.”

Between sneezes, the squirrel chattered too fast for my ears. He took turns between talking to himself and scolding us. “Don't make me come down there! Some day of rest! Strangers invading the woods and stealing my savings, and I'm too sick to forage for more. What's this neighborhood coming to? Thieves spoiling it for honest critters!”

Grayson tried to apologize, but the squirrel kept ranting. “Mice, bah! Never do an honest day's work.”

The squirrel's remark started an argument between my mind and my stomach. Were mice really thieves? No! We found food and ate it. And that was a good thing! The squirrel hadn't grown those acorns. The oak tree had plenty more. And there were lots more oak trees.

Grayson whispered, “Grab what you can carry and follow me!”

We ran until the squirrel's complaints and sneezes faded into the wind. Finally, Grayson stopped under a pine tree and panted, “Let's picnic!”

After we'd sifted the shells for crumbs, we returned to the library. Nilla spotted a drainpipe near the front window. We climbed it and saw the third graders in the front room learning how to use the computer.

Nilla asked, “What does ‘Tanya' mean?”

“Human names don't mean anything,” Grayson explained. “They're just sounds.”

Nilla said, “How do you know? Maybe they're words you just don't know yet.”

We watched the class a little longer. Then Nilla suggested, “Maybe ‘Tanya' means ‘tall and loud.'”

Grayson looked thoughtful. “Maybe ‘Hannah' means ‘girl with yellow head fur.'”

I shook my head. “Hannah's friend, Tanya, also has blonde hair.”

The only child whose name meant anything I recognized was April. And I had no idea why a girl and a month would share a name.

Two of the children looked very much alike. We later learned that Jill and Bill were twins, which means they were born in the same litter.

I knew Andy from the Crittertown Market. His parents own it, and the family lives above the store. Andy was the chubbiest kid in the class. Of course, I'd be chubby, too, if I lived in a place full of cheese!

Andy wanted books about animals.

Miss Davis asked if he wanted fiction or nonfiction.

Grayson, Nilla, and I exchanged a glance. Wasn't that the name of the library colony's leader? We learned with Andy that “nonfiction” means “facts, not make-believe stories.”

Andy's friend, Wyatt, also wanted nonfiction books about animals.

Instead of looking at books, the small, dark-furred boy named Javier sat in a corner drawing. Miss Davis showed him a shelf full of comic books, which were stories told mostly with pictures.

Nilla pointed at Jane and Ian. “What happened to their fur?”

Grayson chuckled. “Nothing. They're just redheads.”

I explained, “Some humans have fire-colored hair.”

Nilla stared. “They are all so strange!”

“You get used to them,” I said.

Nilla looked skeptical. “Why would you want to get used to humans?”

I felt too ashamed to answer. Was it wrong to like humans? Was I a traitor to mousekind?

When the kids boarded their bus, I wanted to go with them! I wanted to see what Javier had been drawing. I wondered which books shy April had chosen, why Jane wanted to learn about ecology, and so much more. But we had a chance to explore the library, and that meant staying until closing time.

Chapter 5  
The Cat's Game

The afternoon passed quickly. Grayson and I recognized some library patrons from the post office.

I wondered if the library clan would let us spend the night, or if Grayson would get to stay under the stars—with the predators?

Finally, only one car remained in the lot. Miss Davis opened a can of food for the cat. Then she turned off the lights and shut the door.

We knew this must be closing time. General History's voice called out of the darkness, “This way.” We followed him to a tunnel that opened into the basement. Red buttons on the water heater and furnace provided the only light. In their dim glow, we saw a neat row of mice.

The first had dark brown fur like General History's. But she seemed so sweet and gentle, and I liked her instantly. “I am Poetry. You met my brother, General History.”

Poetry introduced us to a smart-looking mouse named Biographies; a chubby mouse known as Cookbooks; a sly, dark mouse named Mysteries; and a giggly white mouse named Humor.

Many stood behind them, staring with friendly curiosity. Several called out names such as Computer Studies, Natural Sciences, and Local History. They seemed glad to meet us.

At the end of the line, Poetry presented her grandfather, Nonfiction. His muzzle was as white as Brownback's. He said, “Welcome! I hope you'll join us for food and bring us news from beyond these walls.”

At the word “news,” I glanced at Grayson. He'd also noticed how much Nonfiction resembled Brownback. This gave me hope. Could our colonies merge peacefully? If Dot were content with her canned food, maybe living in the library wouldn't be too bad. I'd miss the cheese crackers, Mike, and the radio, but still…

Cookbooks led us to a table made from several volumes of an encyclopedia. Nilla asked, “What's an encyclopedia?” And then, “What's alphabetical order?”

Nonfiction patiently answered her questions. An encyclopedia was a set of books full of facts arranged in alphabetical order. I knew about alphabetical order from the phone books and files at the post office. Things were easier to find if you put the As together, then the Bs, Cs, and so on. I always felt kind of sorry for the Zs. Who wants to be last all the time?

While Nilla struggled to learn to pronounce “alphabetical,” Cookbooks heaped the encyclopedia with acorns that smelled wonderful. She explained, “We remove the shells, sprinkle them with salty crumbs from the bottom of Miss Davis's potato chip bag, then toast them over a light bulb.”

Grayson took a bite. “That's delicious!”

Cookbooks beamed. “I might be the first mouse to invent a recipe.”

Nonfiction put down his acorn and asked, “May I assume your visit relates to learning human language?”

Grayson said, “We call it The Change.”

Nonfiction nodded. “It certainly was a big change! We've spent the past six months learning about it.”

“Six months?” I blurted out.

Grayson explained, “We've only understood people for a few weeks.”

General History leaped up. “I told you! Our colony was first!”