Crisis in Crittertown (8 page)

A twinge of guilt troubled my tummy. “Will you please tell Rusty we're sorry about the nuts and hope he gets over his cold soon?”

Chitchat nodded.

I rolled our letter around a piece of string and taped it shut. Chitchat seemed to understand my intention, because he bent his head to make it easier to tie the string around his neck. He said, “Very clever, leaves the paws and mouth free.” Then he leaped back up into the maple and called out, “See ya tomorrow!”

We spent the evening exploring the school. As Grayson hoped, the cafeteria was a paradise of crumbs. The dumpster was huge! We played in the playground, even though the seesaw and swings were way too big for us to move.

We nibbled more of the cashews out of Mrs. Olson's drawer. Then we tried to sleep. But that's hard to do in a strange place, especially with worries on your mind.

So Grayson stared at the stars. Nilla studied Mrs. Olson's math book. I snooped through the children's cubbyholes and desks. You can learn a lot from the things a critter keeps. I wanted to know these small humans. I hoped they'd feel the same way about us.

Chapter 9  
Trouble in the Tree House

At the first HISS of bus brakes, we hid behind the boots in the cubby hole again.

“Remember,” Nilla told Grayson. “We must be careful!”

Grayson protested, “I'm always careful!” Then he realized Nilla knew him better than that. So he just slid deeper into the shadows.

It was fun to see the children gradually find their letters. At first they accused each other, like Jill had blamed Bill the day before.

They soon discovered everyone had a note, and they put them in order. Tanya read aloud and then concluded, “It must be a joke.”

“Who'd do that?” Javier asked.

Tanya stared at each of her classmates in turn. Then she exclaimed, “I don't know!”

Grayson almost rushed out of hiding. Nilla caught his tail just as Mrs. Olson entered. Tanya hid the notes in her desk and muttered, “Mice can't write.”

Mrs. Olson asked, “What's that, Tanya?”

“Nothing. I mean, ‘Good morning.'”

When Mrs. Olson turned to write on the blackboard, Grayson slipped free and waved. Javier looked back at just the right moment. He kicked Ian's desk. And in seconds, every child had turned and seen the three of us waving from the cubbyhole.

When Mrs. Olson faced the class again, we ducked back into hiding. Do I even need to tell you how eager we all were for lunchtime? I felt sure that with the children on our side, the colony would be saved!

When Mrs. Olson briefly left the room, the three of us slipped into Jill's backpack. My stomach growled at the smell of her salami sandwich. But I was determined to wait for her to offer before nibbling her lunch again.

I didn't even have to ask. As soon as we entered the cafeteria, Jill broke off a piece, gave it to us and said, “I hope you like salami.”

I squeaked, “Not as much as cheese, but thanks!”

Jill looked puzzled. Then I remembered poor Buttercup. I took out Jill's assignment pad and wrote, “Yes, thanks!”

During the rest of lunch, the children were so full of questions that I nearly wore out my paw writing replies. Maybe they noticed, because at recess we all just played instead of trying to talk. When the children slid down the slide or swung on the swings, we rode in their pockets and sweatshirt hoods.

Grayson squeaked, “This is so much fun!”

I thought, “This can't get any better.” But after recess, it did!

The class went to the art room. Mrs. Brann, the art teacher, gave each table of children a box of “found objects.” Then she challenged them to “make something out of these.”

The objects included paper towel tubes, boxes, empty thread spools, and egg cartons. Mrs. Brann also provided the students with tape, scissors, pipe cleaners, string, and glue.

April whispered to Jill. “I'm going to make a seesaw for the mice.”

Jill squealed. “That's brilliant!”

Jane asked, “What's brilliant?”

And the idea of making “mouseables” instantly spread!

Wyatt turned a small box into a mouse desk.

Andy used one to make a bookshelf and laughed. “Maybe they can write their own tiny books.”

Javier made a chair out of two sections of an egg carton. Jill helped Jane turn a paper towel tube into a slide. Bill made a wheelbarrow out of a box and a spool. Ian used pipe cleaners and string to make a hammock.

Mrs. Brann marveled at all the “busy little hands.” So did Mrs. Olson. I heard her whisper, “Usually they need help with ideas.”

Mrs. Brann shrugged. “Maybe I ought to clean out the store room more often.”

Mrs. Olson asked each child about his or her creation. “How interesting that all of you thought of making miniature furnishings.”

“They're just toys!” Tanya exclaimed.

“For a dollhouse,” Hannah added.

“Well, you've done amazing work!” Mrs. Brann gushed.

Tanya asked, “Can we do this next time, too?”

Mrs. Brann said, “Yes,” then muttered, “I guess I'll clean my garage this weekend.”

The next few days felt like paradise. The children brought us treats from home, muffins from the B&B, pizza from the store. Hannah made tiny peanut butter sandwiches.

We posed in the small furniture while Javier drew our pictures. Nilla wore a little hat and vest that April made. Jane hosted a tea party using dollhouse dishes. We'd never eaten off plates before. We felt so elegant!

I wrote a note asking the children, “Would you mind if the rest of our colony joined us here?”

The girls squealed with delight, and the boys seemed just as happy.

Jane said, “I can bring in my dollhouse!”

“We can build them a house,” Wyatt said.

Andy said, “I wonder if we could hide it in one of the cubbies.”

Bill jumped in, “Why not? We can make it tall and skinny, with a spiral staircase of Popsicle sticks in the middle.”

It sounded great! Grayson nudged me. “Ask them if we can occupy several cubbies. And…”

“Hold on!” I squeaked. “Let me get a pencil.” Grayson never had the patience to write—or to wait for my writing to catch up with his squeaks.

I'd only gotten as far as “Grayson wonders if…” when we heard footsteps and voices. We looked up and saw Mrs. Olson and Principal Clark!

Mr. Clark exclaimed, “A mouse! What's a mouse doing in this room?”

We scrambled into the dark space under the cubbies. We peeked out at the angry grownups.

Mrs. Olson frowned. “Now I know why my cashews have been disappearing.”

Mr. Clark shook his head. “Where there's one, there are sure to be more. I'll call the exterminator first thing tomorrow.”

My heart sank straight past my paws. There would be no spiral staircase, no slide rides at recess, no tiny peanut butter sandwiches. We would be homeless!

Once the grownups were safely gone, the children did their best to console us. “Even if you aren't living at the school, we can still be friends!” Ian declared.

“We'll help you find a new home!” Wyatt promised.

“How?” April asked.

Half a dozen voices exclaimed, “What'd she say?”

Wyatt heard her and replied, “I don't know…yet.” His blue eyes narrowed with determination as he added, “But we'll find a way!”

Hannah had gymnastics and Ian had a piano lesson, but the rest of the class stayed after school to help us somehow.

Grayson started pacing. “There's no point going back to the post office just to stick around until it closes.”

“What's he squeaking?” Jill wondered.

I wrote the gist on her pad, as Grayson went on. “I've gotten used to making my own rules. Pops…” His voice trailed off miserably.

Nilla nodded and then asked, “What else can we do? It's not like the three of us can just start our own colony.”

Grayson patted Nilla on her shoulders. “That's exactly what we'll do!”

Jill tapped the short pencil in my paw and urged, “Come on, Cheddar. What did he squeak?”

My paw shook with fear and excitement. But I managed to write, “Grayson wants to start a new colony.”

Bill read the note over Jill's shoulder. “We can build you a house. It doesn't have to be in a cubbyhole. It can be bigger and better! I've always wanted a tree house!”

“Me, too!” Jill exclaimed. It was the first time I'd ever heard the twins agree.

The other children loved the idea, too. Their voices tumbled over each other's as they made plans.

They decided the old fairgrounds would be an ideal spot. It wasn't far from school. Lots of kids already hung out there. So it wouldn't seem odd if they built a tree house there.

“What're we waiting for?” Bill asked. “Let's meet at the grounds with boards, hammers, nails, and whatever else we need. I bet we can finish before dark!”

The children chose their favorite climbing tree, which had low branches. It was a great tree, but nothing went exactly as planned. They quickly realized the spiral staircase would have to wait.

The floor wasn't level, but it was sturdy enough to hold the children while they made a roof out of more boards covered with tar paper. We didn't have any windows or a door yet—just plenty of pretty fabric for curtains, and a toy van with plastic beds inside, and other pieces of doll furniture and toys.

Many of the children brought provisions, like beef jerky, trail mix, and (hooray!) cheese. The tree house was rough, but it would easily be big enough for the whole colony once the post office closed.

Grayson struck a grand pose and squeaked, “By then, Pops will respect me as a fellow leader. So we won't have to live by his rules.”

“What did he squeak?” Jane asked.

I took the liberty of changing Grayson's words to “Thank you, children! We will never forget your kindness in our hour of need.”

“Speaking of hours, we better get home!” Jill exclaimed.

For the second time that day, Bill agreed. “You're right, or Mom will kill us!”

I shuddered. Did human mothers really kill their young, or was this just another crazy expression?

“Yeah, it's getting dark,” Tanya said.

After quick farewells, the children left. Our tree house was suddenly very quiet. The sun sank to an orange smear on the Western sky.

Grayson stretched out on one of the plastic beds, gnawed on a grape, and exclaimed, “This is the life!”

Nilla agreed. “Change isn't always bad. This is much better than the post office basement.”

I started to say, “I'm sure the children will have it fixed up fancy in no time.” But halfway through, a strange smell made me freeze with fear.

Nilla must've smelled it, too, because her eyes grew wide and she whispered, “Do you smell fox?”

Grayson dropped his grape and ran to the edge of the platform. He looked down and squeaked, “Big fox!”

The fox laughed. “Little mice! Yum, yum, yum!”