The Infamous Ratsos (3 page)

On the way home
from school on Friday, the Ratso brothers pass by Mrs. Porcupini’s house. Mrs. Porcupini spends her days leaning against her cane and staring out her window with a sour expression on her face, like she’s just sucked on a pickle. She seems to reserve her sourest looks for the Ratso brothers.

Ralphie Ratso’s brain is not quite as big as his brother’s, but it is filled to the brim with ideas. He reaches in and pulls out a nasty one.

After Big Lou gets home and the Ratso brothers eat their dinner and wash the dishes and put them away and get into bed and turn out the light, Ralphie whispers his plan to his brother.

Then he says, “After tonight, everyone in the neighborhood will know how tough the Ratso brothers are.”

They wait until they hear Big Lou’s snoring, and then they sneak out of the apartment and down the stairs and outside. They creep over to Mrs. Porcupini’s house. Ralphie reaches into his pockets and pulls out two big bars of soap.

“Let’s teach that prickly pickle not to give us sour looks,” he whispers. “When she looks out her window tomorrow morning, she won’t be able to see a thing!”

“Pretty clever,” says Louie. Though he still considers himself the smart one.

The brothers begin rubbing soap all over Mrs. Porcupini’s window. When they’re done, they have plenty of soap left over.

“Let’s keep going,” says Ralphie.

The Ratso brothers soap each and every one of Mrs. Porcupini’s windows. By the time they’re done, the sun is coming up. Louie lets out a big, long yawn.

“Shhh!” says Ralphie.

But the sound has already woken up Mrs. Porcupini. She goes to the picture window and lets out a little yelp of surprise.

The Ratso brothers start running. But they’ve been awake all night soaping windows, so they’re too tired to run very fast. And Mrs. Porcupini is already calling for them from her front porch, so they don’t get very far.

“Louie and Ralphie Ratso!” she shouts. “Come here this
instant
!”

“We’re really in trouble now,” Ralphie says.

“Finally,” says Louie.

When they climb the steps of the front porch, the Ratso brothers can see that Mrs. Porcupini’s sour-pickle expression is gone. In its place is an expression that looks very much like delight.

“I haven’t been able to wash my own windows since I hurt my knee,” Mrs. Porcupini explains. “It pains me to look out a dirty window. You boys saw someone in need and did something about it. I can’t wait to tell everyone in the neighborhood how helpful you two are!”

“We’re not helpful, we’re TOUGH!” Ralphie insists.

But Mrs. Porcupini isn’t listening; she is too busy showing them where the garden hose is and how to hook it up. The Ratso brothers spend the rest of the morning rinsing off all the soap until Mrs. Porcupini’s windows sparkle in the sun.

When they get home,
the Ratso brothers want nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep all day. But that isn’t going to happen. Because waiting for them in the kitchen is their father. In his hand is an open letter, printed on crisp white paper.

“This just came from the school,” Big Lou says. “Do you boys have something you’d like to tell me?”

“He did it,” the Ratso brothers say at the same time, each pointing at the other.

“You’ve both been busy. According to Mr. Ferretti, you welcomed a new student to the school and made her lunch. And according to Miss Beavers, you stopped a bully from terrorizing another student,” Big Lou says, rereading the letter. “And then, this morning, when I went out to get the mail, Mr. O’Hare told me you two shoveled his sidewalk during the snowstorm.”

“It was an accident,” Ralphie tries to explain.

“Which part?” asks Big Lou.

“All of it,” says Louie.

“So you’re not really nice, or kind, or thoughtful, like everyone’s saying?” Big Lou asks.

“No, and we’re not helpful either, so don’t listen to whatever Mrs. Porcupini tells you,” Ralphie says. “We’re TOUGH!”

“We just want to be like you,” admits Louie.

“Like me?” says Big Lou.

“Yeah, you’re tough. Being nice and helpful is for softies,” says Ralphie.

Big Lou looks at the photo of Mama Ratso on the wall. He hangs his head.

“The last thing you want is to be like me,” he says. “It’s been hard on all of us since your mother’s been gone. But you two have found a way to take care of yourselves and be good to others.
I
should be trying to be more like
you.
”

Louie and Ralphie blink.

They look at the photo of Mama, too. They think about how soft and warm she was. And how good she was to them.

“Being tough all the time is so . . . so . . .
tough
,” says their father. He puts his arms around the Ratso brothers and pulls them close.

“I think I have something in my eye,” says Louie.

“Me, too,” says Ralphie.

Before long, they are crying, Big Lou loudest of all.

This is Louie Ratso.
This is Ralphie Ratso. This is Big Lou Ratso.

Everyone in the Big City knows the Ratsos. And everyone stays out of their way. Because who knows what they might be up to next?