When You Wish upon a Rat (4 page)

“It's your brother!” her mother begged.

“So?”

“You can help him out.”

“When does he ever help me out?” Ruth grumbled.

“It won't hurt you.” Her father stared at her over his glasses. “It's only a few hours. Don't be a drama queen!”

“Do you have any idea how long
a few hours
is when you're doing something you hate doing?” Ruth said sourly.

For some reason both her parents burst out laughing.

“We do actually, Ruthie,” her father said.

“What else were you planning to do?” Marcus grinned. “Sneak
off with a book?” He looked around at the others. “Remember the concert last year!”

“I didn't read while
you
were playing!” Ruth retorted.

“Still, it wasn't very nice,” Mrs. Craze said gravely. “Not very nice when a whole lot of people who have practiced all year are trying their hardest and giving their all.”

Ruth rolled her eyes and took another mouthful of cereal.
Not very nice?
That concert had gone on for
hours!
So what if she'd quietly read a book? What harm did it do?

“It's not fair,” Ruth exploded. “He would never do it for me!”

“But you don't ride,” Paul chipped in, “so how can he?”

“Be quiet, Paul!”

“No offense, Ruth, but you've got no friends,” Marcus said lightly. “So what else
would
you do?”

Ruth gulped and stared at him for a moment before turning away.

There was an odd pause, and they all stopped what they were doing. Her father turned down the television, looked questioningly at Ruth and then at his wife, then to Marcus and back to Ruth.

Ruth could feel a blast of heat rushing up into her cheeks. She was filled with a sudden wild urge to chuck her bowl straight at her brother's head. How nice it would be to see all the slushy cereal sliding down his acne-spotted face.

“Ruth has friends,” she heard her father say.

“She doesn't,” Marcus said quietly as he examined a hole in his sport sock.

“What about Lou and … those other nice girls?” Mrs. Craze asked uncertainly.

“They don't like her anymore,” Marcus informed them.

Ruth stuffed another spoonful of Weetabix into her mouth to ward off the misery rising in her chest. She stared at the wall in front of her as she chewed.
As though they knew anything about her! As though any of them had any idea what her real life was like!
Even if she sat them down and told them everything that went on at school, they wouldn't get it. She took another spoonful and tried to think about something nice. A trip to Disneyland would be good. Her own bungalow out back with separate kitchen facilities would be even better.

“Well … Marcus might get on the state team!” her mother blathered on as she handed him a protein drink in a huge plastic mug. “He needs our support.”

“Otherwise, I'll start taking drugs.” Marcus winked at Ruth, who stared back stone-faced.

Typical.
He always tried to undo mean stuff with some stupid joke.

“Glad that's sorted out, then.” Mr. Craze pushed his empty bowl away and stood up. “Marcus, you be sure to pay your sister back sometime, you hear?”

“Sweet,” Marcus said, and went back to flexing his calf muscles.

Ruth shifted position and her foot hit something under the table. She bent down, picked up the wallet, and handed it silently to her father.

“Oh, you're a gem, Ruthie!” His eyes lit up. “Thanks, love.”

“Well done, Ruthie!” Her mother beamed at her. “You really are a whiz, darling.”

Ruth shrugged. All the
gems
and
whiz darlings
in the world did not make up for the fact that she did not want to be in this shambles of a kitchen—why was there a red plastic football on top of the fridge, for example, and why were there strips of greasy paint hanging from the ceiling?—at such an unearthly hour with any of these people whom she was apparently required to help out and be kind to, for no other reason than that they were her family. Ruth frowned.
Family.
As far as she was concerned, family was completely and utterly overrated. She lowered her head and tried to think of something more pleasant. How come being an orphan got such a bad rap? In every book, play, and film, it was the orphan you had to feel sorry for. Ruth could think of at least half a dozen things about being an orphan that would be wonderful.

While she was finishing her cereal a small, wayward idea disassociated itself from the pack of old, boring ones in Ruth's head and raced to the front.
Where had it come from?
Nobody,
least of all Ruth, asked for it to start pinging like an electronic bleeper. It had arrived for no obvious reason, and it was different from any idea she'd ever had before. More importantly, it was
growing.

The longer she sat there looking at all the dirty dishes on the table, knowing it was more than likely that she would be the one to clear away and wash up, the stronger it got.
If you really want something, then … you've got to make it happen.
She could almost hear Mary Ellen's voice in her head, and that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

All of a sudden, her mouth opened and the words tumbled out before she could even think.

“I can't do it,” she said quite firmly, getting up and taking a pile of dishes from the table to the sink.

“Can't do what?” Marcus stopped what he was doing on the floor and turned around.

“I can't come today,” Ruth said, hardly able to believe herself.

Mr. Craze turned off the television and Mrs. Craze straightened up from packing food into the cardboard box.

Paul stopped whistling and playing with his toast. In fact, amazingly, the kitchen went quiet all over again. Ruth turned her back and filled the sink with water, aware that they were all looking at her.

“What did you say, Ruth?” Mr. Craze asked.

“Sorry, I forgot. I can't come today,” Ruth said calmly, only
half turning around. Her heart was hammering in her chest.
What would she say now?

“Why not?” Marcus was outraged.

“I completely forgot that I have plans with Lou's family.”

“Plans with
who
?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Ruth!”

“And I can't get out of it,” Ruth blundered on. “Look, I would have told you before. I just forgot. This has taken me by surprise too.”

“What
kind
of plans?” Mr. Craze asked, openmouthed.

“Lou's grandfather had a massive heart operation yesterday,” Ruth said, squirting some detergent into the sink. “He's in intensive care. Lou wants me to come and stay with her while her parents go and sit with him all day at the hospital.”

Ruth could feel her family staring at her back.

“I'm a … close family friend.” This last part was true in a sense. Even though she and Lou had fallen out, Lou's parents still probably loved her. Ruth knew they thought she was a good, steady influence on their little princess.

“But, Ruth,” her mother said, bewildered by this sudden turn of events, “why wouldn't Lou want to be with them at the hospital?”

“Her parents think hanging around the hospital is … damaging,” Ruth said. She had no idea where any of this was
leading. But the memory of hanging around hospital waiting rooms when Mary Ellen was sick had floated up from nowhere. It had been mind-numbingly boring as well as heartbreaking.

“Damaging?” Mrs. Craze spluttered.

“To Lou's young psyche,” Ruth said, nodding seriously.

“Her
what
?” Mrs. Craze shook her head. “Where in heaven do you get such terms? Why didn't you tell us?”

“I just told you, I forgot,” Ruth said, turning around.

They were all staring at her blank-faced.

She decided to go for broke. “Ring them if you want to check.”

Mr. and Mrs. Craze looked at each other, then at Marcus and Paul, and then back at Ruth.

“But I'm going to feel pretty mean if I have to let them down at this late stage.” Ruth turned back to wash the first few plates, trying to look unconcerned. She usually went to great pains to tell the truth, even when it made everyone else feel uncomfortable. She was stunned with herself, as well as a little scared.
What if they found out that she was lying?

we'll just have to rope in somebody else when we get there.”

“I guess you will,” Ruth murmured.

Luck was on Ruth's side for once. Her parents and brothers were in such a hurry to get away, they didn't bother calling Lou's parents to check her story.

She stood on the front path to watch them leave, and once the car disappeared around the corner a wave of pure relief broke over her.
Yes
. She was free for a whole day!

There would be no shouting brothers, no raucous sports shows on television, no radio replays of boring football matches! No parental voices bossing everyone around. No loud explosive burps or unexpected farts followed by hoots of ridiculous laughter.

She finished the washing-up, wiped down the benches, and swept the floor. Then she got the washing in from the line because it looked like it might rain. The whole day was in front
of her. It was only a matter of deciding what to do with it. First things first; breakfast had been ruined earlier, so … she would make herself a little feast.

Ruth piled her six slices of peanut-buttered toast with jam onto a plate, then poured herself some milk with loads of chocolate syrup, and took it all into the front room. This was by far the best room of the house. It was lighter and bigger than the others, and although most of the furniture was worn, there were a few nice things that had belonged to Mary Ellen—the big shiny wooden table with matching chairs, the deep blue leather lounge suite, and the antique sideboard. Ruth loved her aunt's stuff even though it didn't go with the other battered bits and pieces. Actually, she loved it
because
it didn't fit in. Ruth put her plate and glass down carefully on the table and went to turn on the heater.

There was a collection of family photos on the wall above the sideboard. Some were properly framed and others were simply pinned or taped to the peeling wallpaper. Ruth sat, eating her food and looking at them. There was a big schmaltzy one of her parents looking into each other's eyes on their wedding day.

They were both vaguely
normal-looking
in the photo.
How things change,
Ruth thought. Then there was a formal family portrait of the five of them together: Mum and Dad, Marcus, herself, and Paul as a baby. There were a few smaller ones of
grandparents and Ruth's mother with her two sisters when they were young. Even at thirteen, Mary Ellen looked by far the most interesting of the sisters.

Most of the photos were recent, though. Marcus holding up the bike trophy he'd won the year before. The next was one of Marcus with Paul on his shoulders at the beach, both of them grinning wildly. Ruth was in the background staring with admiration at them. She could remember that day. It was weird now to consider how she used to think that Marcus was wonderful and Paul utterly cute.

Then there was a collection of Paul shots: looking sweet playing in the sandpit at kindergarten; another taken on the first day of school. All in all, there were at least a dozen family snaps featured on the wall, but only one of Ruth by herself. It was a small black-and-white photo at the edge of the collection.

She got up, took the photograph off the wall, and lay down on the floor in front of the heater, staring hard at herself. She liked this photo. The confident, easy way she was staring into the camera reminded her that things hadn't always been so bad. Someone, she couldn't remember who, had caught her standing against the back fence, squinting into the camera. Rodney was poking out from under her arm as if he knew what was going on and didn't particularly approve. Ruth smiled. Rodney had often looked like that. Annoyed and disapproving.