The New Kid (11 page)

“Cool. Because along with his food block, Mr. Nibblenose likes fresh fruits and veggies. He also can eat yogurt, so thanks, Dad! But he can’t eat cookies because sugary foods make rats hyper. He also likes cooked beans.”

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have any cooked beans. If Mr. Nibblenose is still hungry after fruit, vegetables, rat block, and yogurt, I suppose I can boil him up some beans. I aim to please.”

Carson lifted Mr. Nibblenose and put him down again. “I estimate that he would weigh in at about … hmmm … maybe one pound. We’ll weigh him on the bathroom scale when we get home.”

“That will not be necessary,” said Carson’s dad. “Let’s assume he’s a one-pounder and leave it at that.”

Carson’s dad parked in the driveway and unhooked the cage from the rack and put his rumpled tie loosely around his neck. He carried the cage into the house and put it in Carson’s room, on Carson’s dresser.

He walked into the living room and watched at a distance as Carson let Mr. Nibblenose and Genevieve sniff noses. Carson put Mr. Nibblenose down on the rug. “You gotta see this!” He motioned his dad to come around the corner.

“Here, Mr. Nibblenose!” Carson called. “Come on, big guy!” He smiled at his dad. “Just watch.… Here, Mr. Nibblenose​Nibblenose​Nibblenose! Watch! He’ll come around the corner any minute.”

They waited a minute.

“Hear him?”

They heard a tiny squeak.

“He’s coming.”

Carson’s dad and Carson peered around the corner.

Mr. Nibblenose was gone.

“Well, isn’t this just a fine kettle of fish, Carson.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. The front door’s shut and the back door’s shut, so he can’t get out.”

“Well, hurry up and close my bedroom door!” said Carson’s dad. “And make sure he’s not in there first. I don’t want a rat in bed with me!”

“Calm down, Dad. I already did. And there’s no way he could have snuck past us and gotten all the way down the hall. And anyway, we’ll find him before bedtime. He’s just investigating the place. Rats are nosy critters, the rat book says.”

Carson got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Mr. Nibblenose is right here someplace. If you’re worried,
maybe it will help pass the time if you boil the beans and cool them,” Carson suggested to his dad.

“I’m a private chef for a rat,” mumbled Carson’s dad. They went into the kitchen. Carson’s dad began soaking some pinto beans. Carson put a small plate of fruit salad under the sink.

The beans had been sorted, rinsed, soaked, cooked, and cooled, and Mr. Nibblenose was still missing. “Rats are most active at dusk,” Carson said. “I’m sure we’ll hear him fiddling with something.”

Where could he be? What would the kids in the class say if Carson lost him? What would Patrick say?

Carson’s heart really, really went through the floor when he thought about this: How would Mr. Nibblenose feel, lost and alone?

Carson and his dad quietly ate dinner. Carson said no thanks to the sorbet and berries for dessert.

“Are you serious?”

Carson was. “I’m full, Dad.”

But the truth was, Carson didn’t feel like he deserved dessert, after losing Mr. Nibblenose.

When they had done the dishes and were reading in the living room, Carson’s dad closed the
newspaper and said, “Maybe Genevieve can sniff him out.”

Carson let Genevieve get a whiff inside the Fluff Puff box. The box got stuck on her nose, but Carson pulled it off. “Go get ’im, girl!”

Sniffing the ground, she hurried into the kitchen, her tail wagging.

“See? She’s onto him!”

Genevieve found the dish of fruit salad and ate it. “I have never known another dog that likes kiwis,” Carson’s dad told Carson.

Well, at least we have the whole long weekend to find him
, Carson thought. But when he went to bed that night, he just lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling. Like Moose. Eyes wide open. He was listening—listening for the sound of tiny teeth chomping on something. He was listening for the sound of rustling paper. Of little scampering rat feet, if it was possible to hear such a sound as that.

But all he heard was the faint sound of his dad snoring in his room down the hall, with the door shut and a towel stuffed under the door.

Until … what was that?

Carson heard a squeaking noise.

He jumped up and hurried into the kitchen.

The squeaking noise was coming from behind Genevieve’s basket!

He could hear it.

Squeeeeak
.

Pause.

Squeeeeak
.

Pause.

Squeeeeak
.

Pause.

Never mind.

It was Genevieve’s nose.

Carson went back to bed and fell asleep.

At dawn, his dad appeared in the doorway wearing pajamas with pictures of baseballs on them. “Carson?”

“What?”

Carson sat up.

“Come listen outside my closet door.”

Carson and his dad walked quietly to the closet door.

It was silent.

Then he heard it—the distinct, distant, muffled sound of rustling paper.

Carson opened the door. But all he could make out in the dark closet was a row of shoes, neatly lined up, and a bootjack.

And, way in the back, the Dan Post cowboy boots.

One was tipped over. “I wish I could see better,” Carson said.

Carson’s dad found his key ring with a penlight on it. “Here. Squeeze this.”

Carson crawled into the closet and shone the penlight inside the boot. There was a big pile of shredded tissue paper inside, and it was moving.

In the center, Carson could see the pink end of Mr. Nibblenose’s nose and his two itty-bitty nostrils at the very tip!

“Yay!” cried Carson. “We found you!”

Carson crept closer. Suddenly he backed out of the closet and looked up at his dad. “You’ve got to see this to believe it, Dad.”

“Just tell me. What?”

“You have to look, Dad. You have to see for yourself.”

“Okay. Give me the light.” He pinched it a few times and it went on and off.

“Okay, Nicholas, you can do this!” he told himself.

Then he got down on his knees and cautiously approached the boot.

Mr. Nibblenose squeaked at him and he jumped back.

Carson’s dad stood up and Carson closed the door.

“I’m not sure how happy Mr. Lipman is going to be with a bootful of bald baby rats,” said Carson’s dad.

“I’m sure they’ll grow hair eventually,” Carson told him.

“What am I going to do with a closetful of runty rodents?”

“Squatters’ rights, Dad!”

“Nonsense!”

“Plus, they’re too delicate to pick up yet. They’re like puffy, soft, four-legged beige caterpillars!”

“Stop. You’re making me woozy just thinking about it, and squatters’ rights nothing!” Carson’s dad declared, hands on his hips. “I want that boot out of my closet and installed in the rat cage, and the rat cage and its contents returned to Mr. Lipman. Pronto!”

“Install a cowboy boot in a rat cage? Will it fit?”

“You bet your boots it will. I’ll make it fit!”

He stormed out of the room and into the garage. Carson heard some banging and clattering.

The
Caring for Your Pet Rat
book cautioned that mama rats can be protective of their young, but Mrs. Nibblenose seemed quite delighted to be out and about with Carson and Genevieve, nibbling kibble, during the half hour it took his dad to modify the cage door wider with wire cutters and c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y navigate the cowboy boot full of ratlets out of the closet and into the cage.

Carson’s dad called, “Okay, Carson! Bring her on!”

Carson’s dad had put the cage in the guest room on the dresser near a window. The curtains were drawn, because Carson’s dad suspected Mrs. Nibblenose would prefer the dark.

He stood at a distance while Carson carried her in.

Mrs. Nibblenose hurried through the cage door and hopped into the boot to check her babies.

That done, she hopped back out again and took a long drink from the water bottle.

“Okay. Monday morning and the whole clan is outta here!”

“Fine.”

Carson looked at the cage.

“How will we move it?”

Carson’s dad frowned. “You got me.”

“That’s okay, Dad. I don’t think we’ll be able to bring a cage with a bootful of bald Nibblenoses back to the classroom right away anyway. Do you?”

“Of course we will. Why wouldn’t we? I’ll rent a van if necessary.”

“Mama rats get stressed out about people looking at their pups. I think Mrs. Nibblenose will be happier right here for a while, don’t you? Right here in the guest room?”

“What pups?”

“Baby rats are called pups, and mama rats are called does, and if we’re going to have rats around for a few weeks, I think we should use the proper terminology.”

“A few
weeks
? Are you
kidding
me? The puppies will be safely hidden in a huge, soft, fluffy pile of shredded white tissue paper in a boot with hand-tooled leather tops high enough to protect a wrangler’s legs
from thorny desert brush. No one can see in there. No one!”

“When you go around to the other side of the cage, you can look in at them. See for yourself.”

Carson’s dad heaved a huge sigh. “This calls for a professional consult. Where’s the paper with the phone tree on it?”

Carson’s dad called Ms. Tapp, and she and Patrick came straight over.

“Yee-haw!” cried Ella. “Love the boot concept! What a novel idea for a nest! They’ll be very, very happy campers in there for a few weeks.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, the pups will need to be socialized in order to get them ready for adoption.”

“Of course.”

“So starting at, say, about day five, they’ll need to be handled gently every day.”

Carson’s dad pinched his forehead and looked at the floor. “Wow. That’s a tall order. I don’t actually usually socialize with rodents, to be honest.”

“Patrick and I can come over and start you off if you like.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, this situation is Mr. Lipman’s responsibility, not yours, Nick.”

“Thank you for reminding me of that.”

“He’ll have to find adoptive homes, and place the pups in advance. But I think he’ll appreciate our help. Patrick and I will be out of town for a family reunion on Carnival Day weekend, unfortunately, but maybe we can get things ready in advance, and you and Carson can set up an informational table for potential adoptive families.”

“Good idea.”

Carson and Patrick walked into the classroom together. “Boys? What’s up? You look like you swallowed a cat.”

“You tell ’im,” Carson told Patrick. They shared the astounding Nibblenose news with Mr. Lipman.

Carson added, “My dad wants you to call him.”

“Yes, I’m sure he does!”

“Leave it to Belinda,” he mumbled. “Good gravy. What a shock!” He ran his fingers through the top of his hair. “I’m going to let you tell the class.”

Mr. Lipman rang the chimes. Patrick waited for the class to be completely quiet. “Well,” he began. “It’s about Mr. Nibblenose …”

Wes lifted his desktop, stuck his head inside, and roared, “Aaaaahhhh-choo!”

He slammed the lid closed.

“My word, Weston,” said Mr. Lipman. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t have time to cover my sneeze so I aimed the germs into my desk. They’re trapped in there now. I might be allergic to Dandy’s doggie dander.”

“Get tissues and use the hand sanitizer, Weston.”

Nancy raised her hand. “Is ‘achoo’ an onomatopoeia?”

“Yes.”

She put it at the top of her list.

“Is ‘sneeze’ an onomatopoeia?”

“Affirmative.”

“Thanks.”

Patrick cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, boys,” said Mr. Lipman. “Carry on.”

Patrick announced, “As it turns out, Mr. Nibblenose is not a buck.”

The class stared at him.

“Mr. Nibblenose is a doe.”

The class still stared at him.

“A buck is a boy. A doe is a girl.”

The class still stared at him.

“Mr. Nibblenose is a Mrs. Nibblenose. And Mrs. Nibblenose had fifteen babies at Carson’s house that are now temporarily housed in a boot inside of a cage.”

Matthew said, “What?!”

And Shelly yelled, “Whoopee! We’ll have sixteen class rats!”

“Calm down. No, we won’t. We can’t!” cried Mr. Lipman.

“Yay! Fifteen baby rats!” the kids cheered.

Chloe and Zoe linked elbows and began dancing. “Wheeee!”

“Can we come over and see them?” several kids asked. “Can we, Carson? Huh?”

“Um …”

“Let’s have a baby-rat shower,” suggested Shelly. “A pup shower! And each person bring fifteen rat toys! Or one big toy that all fifteen pups can share!”

She ran over and began to leaf through the
Caring
for Your Pet Rat
book. She held up a page with a photograph of a carton full of sand and buried treats. “Anybody want to help me make an I Can Dig It Box?”

“We doooooo!” called Zoe and Chloe.

Patrick and Ella came back over after school in Ella’s van. They brought boxes of all sizes, masking tape, a drop cloth, and some wide plastic pipe. They brought some brand-new cardboard cartons, still folded, and some jumbo binder clips.

Patrick brought a pair of his uniform pants from the second grade that he found in the bottom of his closet.

They brought a paint-roller pan to make a shallow wading pool.

Working together in the guest room, Patrick, Carson, Carson’s dad, and Ella constructed a Free-Range Roaming Rat Arena for Mrs. Nibblenose and for the ratlets, once they were big enough to be out and about.

The Free-Range Roaming Rat Arena consisted of a plastic drop cloth on the floor with a freestanding cardboard corral around it.

Inside, several boxes with doors and windows cut into them were taped together to make a clubhouse. Ella created with segments of plastic PVC pipe some tube slides that came out of the windows so that doe and pups could slide from the clubhouse to the floor.

They also positioned rocks from the garden so that the rats could jump happily from rock to rock, and then up onto a small maple branch, which Carson had found by the rock wall.