Crisis in Crittertown (7 page)

We heard engines and horns, the wheeze of braking buses. Children laughed and shouted. Then a loud bell rang. Grayson squeaked, “We must be at school!” He climbed up the math book and poked his head outside the backpack.

Nilla asked, “What do you see?”

Grayson reported, “It's even bigger than the B&B! Mostly brick, but old enough to have holes.”

The whistle blew again, followed by a woman shouting, “Everybody inside! Get to your classrooms!”

As Jill and Bill hurried to the third grade classroom, sounds of many footsteps and voices filled our ears. We smelled familiar things, like floor cleaner, coffee, perfume, and shampoo. There were also new smells like gym socks, poster paints, and something delicious from the far end of the building. It was all so exciting!

“Hey, Jill!” I recognized Jane's voice from the library. “Flopsy did the cutest thing this morning. While I was cleaning his cage, I put him in a box with newspaper in the bottom. And I swear Flopsy turned the page like he was reading!”

Jill laughed. “That's amazing!”

Jane said, “That's not the best part. The article was about rabbits!”

More third graders greeted each other. I struggled to determine who said what. When the noise died down, Mrs. Olson said, “Take your seats, please.”

Jill slipped off her backpack and put it under her desk.

Mrs. Olson went on. “Please take out your math books and homework.”

Grayson pulled Jill's lunch bag into the corner and gestured for Nilla and me to hide behind it with him. We held our breath as Jill's hands retrieved her math book and three-ring binder.

Jill didn't bother closing her backpack before stashing it under her chair. This gave us a chance to look around.

Mrs. Olson began going over the homework. “Raise your hand if you have a question about the first problem or if you'd like to share your answer.”

Tanya called out, “One hundred and eleven.”

Mrs. Olson sighed. “Please raise your hand, Tanya. One hundred and eleven is correct. Did everyone get that?”

The teacher walked the rows, glancing at everyone's papers. Javier quickly shuffled a drawing behind his homework.

Mrs. Olson stopped at Ian's desk. “Do you understand your mistake?”

Ian nodded. “I borrowed the one, but forgot to turn the nine into an eight.”

Nilla frowned. “What're they talking about? How can you ‘borrow a one'?”

I shrugged. “Just get used to not understanding everything.”

Nilla said, “Or I could learn math!”

I whispered, “If we live at school, you'll have plenty of time to study.”

Nilla smiled. “I bet I could even learn to carry ones.” Then she added, “I hope they aren't heavy!”

Chapter 8  
That Chatty Squirrel

After math, Mrs. Olson moved on to English. Nilla, Grayson, and I found out we're “nouns.” I teased Grayson. “You have trouble sitting still, so maybe you're really a verb.”

Some of the children were just as jumpy as Grayson. They jiggled their back paws and fiddled with their pencils. The longer I looked at them, the more they seemed like mice. Hands are so much like paws!

The white around their eyes was hard to get used to. But overall the biggest difference between people and mice seemed to be size. Well, that and the variety of human inventions like maps and globes.

From our geography talk at the library, Nilla recalled countries and “condiments.”

Grayson rolled over in his sleep and muttered, “Continents.”

Nilla grumbled, “Whatever.” She couldn't believe there were fifty states in the United States of America. “Why so many?”

“It's a big country,” I replied. “Each state is full of cities and towns. Some cities are big enough to need several zip codes.”

Nilla looked skeptical. But it's true!

We didn't know when or where the children would eat lunch. But from the tasty smell we'd noticed at the far end of the building, we supposed the school had a kitchen and a dining area.

I felt a rush of panic when Mrs. Olson announced, “Please get your lunches or lunch money, and line up for the cafeteria.”

We scrambled to hide behind Jill's math book while she reached in her backpack. The bell rang so loudly that I nearly jumped out of my fur.

Grayson smirked. “Relax, Cheddar.”

How could I relax?

Grayson wanted to follow the children and explore the cafeteria. We could have slipped under the door after Mrs. Olson locked it.

But I reminded him, “We can't be seen!” Then I said, “The cafeteria will still be here after the people go home.” That didn't seem to matter, so I added, “This is a perfect chance to explore the classroom.”

Grayson ran to Mrs. Olson's desk. I nibbled an eraser. Then Nilla wriggled into the bottom drawer and squeaked, “There's an open can of nuts!” We feasted on as many cashews as we dared. For dessert we tasted crayon tips. Despite their different colors, they all tasted alike.

We found some candy hidden in Tanya's desk. And I finally had a chance to see what Javier had been drawing.

Nilla looked over my shoulder and asked, “People can't fly, can they?”

“No, these pictures are…” I struggled to find the word. I recalled Nonfiction's handsome nephew. “…Fiction.”

Just then we heard a burst of noise from outside. We rushed to the windowsill.

We saw the children playing games: basketball, tetherball, and jump rope. They climbed on jungle gyms and tunnels, slid down slides, and rode seesaws. We didn't know what any of these things were called yet. But we recognized fun!

Nilla looked thoughtful. “I guess…it wouldn't be so bad to be human—at least a young human.”

We shared the children's sadness when recess ended. We hid behind someone's rubber boots in a cubbyhole to watch the third graders return.

Jill and Bill argued. Jill asserted, “Mom wouldn't do anything that funny.”

“I can't write that small,” Bill replied.

“Then who did?” Jill countered.

I wanted to introduce myself. But two things stopped me: 1. The fact that the children wouldn't be able to understand me any better than they'd understood poor Buttercup, and 2. The fear that if Mrs. Olson saw mice in her room, she'd be even meaner than when she caught Tanya chewing gum!

During the remainder of the school day, Grayson felt restless, but Nilla and I enjoyed every minute. Grayson couldn't wait to explore the cafeteria. He reasoned that if it were big enough, the dumpsters alone could support the whole colony!

Nilla worried that the “little humans” had keen eyes. “They're bound to spot someone.”

Grayson dismissed her concerns. “Kids are almost as big and slow as adults. You hardly ever see kids carrying brooms. I think it's worth the risk to have such a great new home.”

Nilla squeaked. “Can you convince Brownback of that?”

Grayson stamped in frustration. He turned to me, black eyes blazing, and asked, “What do you think, Cheddar?”

I knew he expected me to back him up. Instead, I said, “Maybe there's another way. Maybe we can get the children to help us!”

Grayson stamped his foot again. “Haven't you been paying attention? They can't understand when animals speak!”

“So we won't squeak,” I said. “We'll write. Clearly Jill was able to read my note.” I added proudly, “Bill thought my printing was neat.”

Nilla giggled. “That's true!”

Grayson remained skeptical. “Are you suggesting we write a letter to each kid? It took you forever just to write ‘Sorry we nibbled your sandwich. We were hungry!'”

I rubbed my shoulder. Maybe Grayson was right. It
had
been tiring to write those few words. Still, I wasn't ready to give up on the idea. “It wouldn't have to be ten long letters. We could write ten little letters to put in each child's desk. We'll number them from one to ten…”

Nilla sighed, “You and numbers. Why don't you give them stamps and zip codes, too?”

“No need,” I replied, before I realized she was joking.

When the final bell rang, I felt sad to see the students leave. Grayson was excited. Nilla tugged his tail. She said, “Some humans are still here. We better wait until it's completely quiet.”

Between after-school clubs and sports, it took a long time for the building to empty. While Grayson and Nilla watched the children play, I chewed a big piece of blank paper into ten small pieces.

Then we took turns pushing a pencil around to write:

1.  Dear Children:

2.  We are mice from under the post office.

3.  We'd like to be your friends.

4.  Our clan needs a new home.

5.  Can you help us stay here?

6.  Please protect us.

7.  We promise not to make a mess.

8.  Please don't tell anyone we're here.

9.  Thank you!

10.  Grayson, Nilla, and Cheddar

Grayson rubbed his shoulder. “I had no idea writing was so tiring!”

Nilla flopped on the ground. “I never want to write anything again!”

I felt just the opposite. “That's too bad, because I think we should write home to say we're all right.”

Grayson groaned. “Cheddar's right. Pops will be worried.”

Nilla frowned. “My folks must be worried, too.”

Grayson said, “Couldn't we tell a bird to give them a message?”

Just then a red squirrel landed on the windowsill with a loud THUD. He must have jumped from a nearby maple tree. The squirrel shouted, “Open the window!”

“How?” Grayson asked.

“Turn the lock, then the crank,” the squirrel instructed. I heard him mutter, “Mice don't know anything!”

The squirrel was much easier to understand through the open window. He asked, “Are you the three from the post office?”

We were too shocked to reply.

The squirrel laughed. “Of course you are!” Then he added, “You put quite a kink in old Rusty's tail, taking acorns from under his nest tree yesterday! And if you want to keep a secret, don't tell Buttercup. He talks to chickadees, and you know birds: chirp, chirp, chirp.”

After pausing for breath, the squirrel chattered on. “I'm Chitchat. Let me guess: The pretty mouse is Nilla; the bold one is Grayson; and that makes the chubby one Cheddar.”

I'm not really chubby, just full-furred. Nilla blushed. Grayson nodded. I asked, “Could you please do us a favor?”

“I have to know what it is first,” Chitchat replied.

“Could you carry a letter to the post office basement?” I answered.

The squirrel grinned. “That's easy. Treetops and wires cover the whole distance. I won't have to touch ground until I reach the parking lot.”

Grayson was still tired from writing the children's notes. So he gladly let me write:

Dear Post Office colony:

We are fine. Hope you are, too.

Here's what we've learned so far:

1.  The store colony is small but fierce.

2.  The library colony is very nice, but already crowded and there's a CAT!

3.  The B&B is no place for mice.

4.  The Elementary School seems possible.

We'll stay here to learn more.

I wasn't sure how to end the letter. “Sincerely” seemed too formal, and “Love” seemed too personal. So I settled on my favorite:

…Happy thoughts!

Then we each signed our names. I added:

“P.S. We've made good friends, including this squirrel, Chitchat, and the noisy dog called Buttercup.”

Chitchat smiled. “Nice of you to call me a friend. Some critters think I talk too much. That's how I got my name. But I believe in knowing the neighborhood.”

Grayson bowed. “We appreciate your help.”

Nilla asked, “Will you stop by again tomorrow?”

Chitchat said, “This is my territory. Besides, I'm interested in your ‘mission.'” Then he winked, “And I'm still laughing over grumpy old Rusty's acorns!”