Raising Rufus (5 page)

Martin's dad usually came home late in the days before the Trout Palace opened for the season, but today he was reasonably early, so the Tinkers sat down for a nice, quiet dinner together. But when his parents got into a boring discussion about money, Martin didn't have anything to contribute; anyway, he kept thinking about how strange and scary it would be if a volcano suddenly blew open underneath Menominee Springs. Finally, he excused himself early and went back out to the barn.

He knocked out his homework in short order, then went back to the volcano book. He figured he would read for a while and then go back up to the house and watch a little TV before bed, but he got so caught up in all the stuff about vents and fissures and lava domes that before he knew it, it was ten o'clock.

He might have kept at it even longer if it weren't for something very odd that grabbed his attention: once again, a
thunk
came from the shelf.

The oval thing had shifted again.

What the…?

He stood up and, eyes fixed on his prize object, warily stepped over for a closer look. He lifted it off the shelf and looked it over carefully. Why would it keep shifting out of place like that? It wasn't slippery. It wasn't lopsided. It wasn't especially heavy. He shook it, sniffed it, raised it to his ear. No answers to the mystery. Just coincidence, apparently.

He carefully placed it back on the shelf and grabbed a few more stones from his collection, pushing them underneath the oval thing on all sides. He checked and double-checked it to be absolutely certain there were no loose spots this time. When he was sure it was rock solid, he took a slow step backward.

Satisfied it would be okay now, he headed back to his chair to resume his reading. And the instant he sat down—
clunk!

Martin let out a gasp and his gaze shot back over to the shelf. The egg thing had shifted again!

What on earth is going on?
His muscles taut, his heart thumping, he took two tiny steps back over to the shelf and slowly reached for the object. He couldn't quite bring himself to touch it, as though he might get an electric shock. When his fingers were hovering just over the surface…

Reep reep deedy bip!

The sound made him nearly jump out of his skin. He knew instantly who was calling and why, but it was a minor distraction considering what was going on (or not) on that shelf. His eyes never left the oval stone as he picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

“Hi.”

“What are you still doing down there?” Martin could tell from his dad's sharp tone that he meant business.

“I'm just…um…”

“It's after ten. Get up here and get to bed.”

“Okay…uh…five minutes?”

“Now.”

“Please? I just have this—”

“I'm looking out the window, Martin. If I don't see your butt running across the yard in ten seconds, I'm gonna lock that barn up for good.”

“Okay, but let me just—”

“One…”

“Wait, can I—”

“Two…”

“Okay. Coming.”

Martin gathered his books and scooted out of there—though on the way, his eyes stayed fixed on that shelf as though drawn by magnetic force. He turned out the light only at the last possible instant before shutting the door.

Back at the house, he went through his usual bedtime routine, except tonight he was finished in half the usual time—teeth brushed, in his pj's, and ready for the sack in eight minutes flat. His mom, who was always at his bedside with a goodnight kiss, couldn't help but notice his speeded-up pace.

“You okay, pumpkin-puss?” she said as he buried himself under the covers.

“Sure.”

“You seem a little…I don't know, twitchy?”

“I'm fine.”

“Everything's okay at school?”

“Uh-huh.”

She studied him, looking just a bit concerned. He squeezed out an innocent smile. It wasn't the most convincing smile he'd ever come up with, but it was enough to persuade her to let it go. “Okay. G'night, squash blos— G'night, sweetheart.”

“ 'Night.”

She gave him a kiss and left the room, turning off the light on her way out.
Finally,
he thought.

Martin listened closely for the sounds of his parents getting ready to turn in—the footsteps in the hall, the whispering voices, the water running in the bathroom. When he heard the
clunk
of their bedroom door closing, he jumped out of bed and scurried to the door to take a peek down the hall. Just a few seconds later, the sliver of light escaping from underneath their door blinked out.

Martin quickly slipped on his shoes, tiptoed down the stairs, and shot out the back door without even bothering to put on a jacket, even though the night was a bit chilly.

In no time at all he was back inside the barn, eyes fixed on that oval thing. It was right where it had been fifteen minutes before. He slowly walked over, reached up, and tapped it lightly with one finger, though he wasn't really sure what the point of that was. He leaned in close and put his ear right up next to it, and then, without stopping to think why, talked to it.

“Hello…hello…this
is your captain speaking…. All ostriches report to the quarterdeck immediately—”

All of a sudden—the thing wobbled. Martin let out a gasp and jumped back, his eyes like saucers. It wobbled again.

“Holy mama,” he half whispered.

It wobbled a third time, and this time it didn't stop. Martin swallowed hard and moved in a bit closer as it kept on rocking back and forth, twitching and shaking as though a volcano were about to blow up underneath it. Then…

Crack!

A jagged split shot across the surface. The object was shaking even harder than before. Brimming with excitement and curiosity, Martin reached up and took hold of the restless stone with both hands. He moved it slowly over to his workbench, where he could get a better look at the little drama unfolding in front of him. But before he could lay it there gently, there was another loud
crack!
He flinched and let go, dropping it on the tabletop—and splitting it completely open. The pieces of shell dropped away, and there it was, the eager being making its first appearance in the outside world…

A baby lizard.

“Wow!”
Martin heard himself exclaim as the little creature slowly opened its eyes for the first time. It flopped around on the table, trying to get some sort of foothold, then looked straight up at Martin, blinked once, and let out a raspy
squeak.

“Wow,”
he said again. As the newborn kept trying to get its footing, he couldn't help noticing that this was no ordinary-looking lizard. For one thing, it was bigger than any baby lizard he knew of—a good foot and a half long from head to tail. For another, its front legs were much smaller than its hind legs—too small to be useful for much of anything, it seemed. It was a grayish-brown color, and its head was too big for the rest of its body.

Obviously, the poor thing was deformed. In an odd way, Martin could relate.

The lizard finally managed to get itself into a somewhat upright position on its hind legs and gave a couple more
squeaks,
gazing at Martin with begging eyes. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

“Hello there.”

Squeak.

“What do you want?”

Squeak.

“You want your mama, right?”

Squeak.

“I'm sorry, she's not here.”

Squeak.

“No, really.”

Squeak squeak.

Martin felt like he had to do something, but he wasn't sure what.

“Do you want me to—”

Squeak squeak.

“Okay. Okay. Hold on.”

He reached down and slowly, gently scooped the lizard up in his hands. He brought it up close to his face, and right away it nibbled at his chin, like an affectionate puppy. Martin couldn't help giggling.

“I'm
not
your
mama,
you know.”

A few weeks before, Mr. Eckhart had talked to the class about how a lot of baby animals bond to the first living thing they see; it's called imprinting. Martin wasn't sure he liked the idea of a lizard thinking he was its mother, but it looked like that was what he was going to get.

He locked gazes with the lizard, and the little thing just kept squeaking at him.

“What is it you want?”

Squeak.

“Are you hungry?”

Squeak.

“Yeah? What do you like to eat?”

Squeak squeak.

He looked around, then grabbed an empty cardboard box from the floor and put it on the workbench. “I'll go look for something. Wait here.”

He lowered the lizard into the box, which the little thing did not appreciate one bit. It squeaked and thrashed around as Martin backed away.

“Just for a minute. I'm coming back. Really. Just wait.”

He didn't know how long he could watch the creature's distress, so he forced himself to turn away and hurry out the door.

Martin sprinted across the yard to the house, not even thinking of what might happen if his parents caught him up and running around. He slipped through the back door into the darkened kitchen and made a beeline for the refrigerator. He swung the door open and stood in the bright light that flooded out into the room, scanning the bottles and jars and packages, hoping something would jump out and shout “Lizard food!”

But the food was not in a talkative mood, so Martin made his best guess and scooped up a loaf of bread, a head of lettuce, an apple, a jar of raspberry preserves, and a chunk of sharp Wisconsin cheddar. In grabbing the cheese from the back of the shelf, he managed to bang his elbow on a bracket, and before he could remember that he needed to keep it down, a loud noise escaped from his mouth.

“Ouch!”

It wouldn't have stung quite so much if he hadn't taken a direct hit on the cut he'd gotten when he fell through the rocks at the quarry. There was some fresh blood on there now, but Martin was less concerned about that than he was about getting caught by you-know-who. He held his breath, listening for the dreaded footsteps upstairs; but when they didn't come, he exhaled and quietly slipped back outside with his armload of lizard treats.

In the barn, he found the little lizard right where he had left it. Seeing Martin, it twitched and squeaked excitedly.

“See? I told you I'd come back.” He dumped his stash of goodies on the table and peeled off a small piece of lettuce, holding it up over the box tantalizingly. “Look what I've got…nice and green. Lizards love leafy stuff, right?”

The lizard squeaked and did its best to take the lettuce, though its footing was still a work in progress. Martin lowered the leaf enough for the creature to grab it in its oversize mouth.

He watched as the little reptile chomped and chewed on the leaf—but it wouldn't swallow. Finally, it spat out the lettuce altogether and squeaked insistently at Martin.

“No greens, eh?”

Squeak squeak!

“Okay, then. I know what you want.”

He picked up a knife from the shelf and cut a small piece of apple.

“Mmmm, apple. All sweet and delicious.” He held the piece out, his own mouth opening wide in sympathy with the lizard's gaping jaws. The little beast yanked the apple out of Martin's hand and it fell to the bottom of the box, where the creature could get a good sniff before digging in. But after a couple of whiffs, it was clear that there would be no digging; the lizard turned away and went right back to its squeaking and squawking, seeming even more worked up than before.

“Really? You don't want fruit?”

Squeak squeak squeak!

“Okay. Well, this I know you'll like.”

He opened up the bread package and tore off a tiny piece of crust.

“
Everybody
likes bread. Open the drawbridge…”

He reached into the box, and the lizard again stretched up and snatched the bread out of his hand greedily. But after three quick chomps, the verdict was the same:
ptui!

As the scaly critter launched back into its screechy tantrum, Martin folded his arms on the edge of the box, lips taut, eyes squinting.

“You are a very picky lizard. Didn't anyone ever tell you beggars can't be choosers?”

The lizard suddenly lurched up and took a nibble of Martin's forearm. “There's not much else I can— Hey!” He had thought the licking and nibbling was just an affectionate nuzzle—until he realized that what it was nibbling on was the fresh blood on the scrape below his elbow.

Martin jerked away.

“What are you doing? You can't have that!”

The lizard twitched and squeaked. It wanted more.

At this moment, a little black spider, obviously not paying attention to where it was going, dropped down on its invisible silk strand and landed inside the cardboard box. The lizard spotted it right away, and with a ferocious look in its eye that would have been downright scary if it weren't just a baby, it lunged over and snapped up the unlucky bug, swallowing it in one gulp.

The lightbulb went on instantly in Martin's head.

“Ahhh, so
that's
what you want.”

Squeak squeeeeeeeak!

“Okay, then. Don't move.”

He grabbed his bug net and a jar and scurried outside. Light from inside the barn spilled out through a small window near the door, where a dozen or so white moths were fluttering around, looking for whatever it is moths look for when they fly into a light. Martin swooped his net, snagging a bunch of them in midair.

Somebody
would be dining well tonight.

M
artin could tell it was light when he woke up, but he didn't feel like opening his eyes; he was just too tired. Better to doze off again until the alarm went off. But even in his groggy state, something seemed off.

He felt a tickle on his cheek, and his hand jerked up to scratch it. Then there was a strange clicking sound in his ear, and it wouldn't stop. Knowing his night of sleep was over, he slowly opened his eyes—and what came into focus was a big reptilian face, just inches from his eyeball.

Squeak.

Martin leaped to his feet, partly from being startled and partly from now realizing he had fallen asleep on the barn floor.

“Oh, no. Oh, no,” he muttered, trying to sort through about a dozen thoughts at once.
What time is it? How could I fall asleep on the cold floor? Is anybody else up yet? Yikes, I'm in my pj's!

The little lizard just looked up at him.

Martin's mind was a jumble, but one thing he realized was that time was not his friend just now.

“I've got to go.”

Squeak.

“I know. Sorry, but I have to. Um…” He looked around, trying to focus his thoughts, and spotted a pile of old bricks against the far wall. He had an idea, and it was going to have to do for now.

Putting himself in high gear, he started bringing the bricks to the corner next to his workbench and building a little rectangular pen against the wall. The pen was about five feet square, and when he had built up the bricks to about a foot high, he scooped up the lizard and put it inside the enclosure.

The creature had been perfectly calm while watching Martin stack the bricks, but when it found itself trapped within the walls, it twitched and squealed like a monkey with its tail caught in a mousetrap.

“I know, but I can't stay! I have to go to school.”

Squeeeeeak!

“Here…”

There were a few dead moths left over from last night's feast, and Martin dumped them into the pen.

“I'll get you more later, I promise.”

Squeak squeeeeeak!

“Be patient, okay?”

He hustled toward the door, then made a quick U-turn, swept up the human-food leftovers from the workbench, and raced out.

When he got to the house, he could see through the window in the kitchen door that sneaking in would not be an option. His mom was rummaging in the fridge—no doubt looking for bread and jelly and apples—while his dad worked on a bowl of cereal at the table.

Martin tried to think of a plan. Maybe if he went around to the front door, he could slip in without being noticed…? But wait. What about the food? Maybe he could just dump it in the woods.

His dad got up from the table and leaned out into the hall. Martin could hear him loud and clear as he called up the stairs.

“Martin! Let's go, buddy!”

He exchanged a few mumbled words with Mrs. Tinker, then hollered again.

“Martin!”
He gave a shrill whistle, his patience clearly running out.

Deciding he'd be better off just to plunge in and hope for the best, Martin popped in the back door. His parents stared at him.

“Hi,” he said, trying to be casual. “I, um…I went out early.”

Dad seemed ready to deliver a few sharp words, but Mom spoke first. “You're going to be late. Go get dressed. Hurry.”

Figuring the best way to end this conversation was to get upstairs as fast as possible, Martin dumped his armload of food onto the table and scooted into the hall.

“Why did you take those?” Mrs. Tinker said.

“I had a sandwich,” Martin called back as he raced up the stairs.

Before he escaped to his room, he heard his mom mutter, “A lettuce, cheese, and jelly sandwich?”

Mr. Tinker gave a muffled groan.

In class, Martin was so busy wondering and worrying about his new little friend that he could hardly pay attention at all. When Ms. Olerud called on him with a question about the Gettysburg Address, he blurted out “Stonewall Jackson,” and the whole class cracked up.

“Martin,” Ms. Olerud said. “You of all people, daydreaming. I'm shocked.”

Normally he would have turned scarlet with embarrassment, but this time he didn't really care; he was too eager to get out of there and get home.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so fascinated by that little deformed lizard. Maybe it was the way it had imprinted on him, and now he was feeling a bit…well,
motherly.
Or maybe he was also getting a bit of sneaky satisfaction from the whole thing, since he wasn't allowed to keep pets.

When Martin was six, he had begged his parents for a hamster. When they finally got him one, he became very attached to the little guy, who he named Orville. One day, while he was playing with Orville in the yard, a hawk swooped down and carried him away, never to be seen again. Martin was so distraught that he barely spoke for a whole week. Finally, his parents had to take him to a therapist to help bring him out of his gloomy state. So after that they made a firm rule: no more pets.

Martin could kind of see their point. But that was a long time ago, and besides, he wasn't really thinking of the lizard as a
pet.
At least, not yet.

After class, Martin was in such a rush to get going that he forgot to scope out the schoolyard before leaving the building. Sure enough, when he got halfway across the yard, Donald and his two pals appeared right behind him.

“Hey, Tinkles, have you seen my shnorkus?” Donald said.

“Your what?”

“Maybe it's in here,” Tyler said as he yanked off Martin's backpack.

“Yeah, let me see,” said Donald, grabbing the pack. He dug into it and pulled the books out one by one, tossing them on the ground. “Hmm, that's not it…. Nope, not there…”

Martin gritted his teeth. “Grimes…”

“Wait, there? No…” Donald turned the pack upside down and emptied it out completely. “Guess not. Let me know if you see it, okay, Tinks?”

Donald and his friends strutted off, snickering and snorting. Martin stood there like he always did after Donald's torments, feeling like an idiot. At least it wasn't a wrestle, and he was grateful for that.

As he knelt down to gather his books, he was surprised when somebody picked one up and handed it to him. At first he thought Donald was back for round two, but when he looked to see who it was, he saw Audrey.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He had no clue what else to say, so he just finished picking up the books and dropped them in his pack. Audrey kept staring at him, calmly unwrapping a stick of gum and popping it into her mouth. Then she pulled another stick from the pack and held it up.

“Juicy Fruit?”

“No thanks.”

“Guaranteed unchewed,” she said as Martin hoisted the bag over his shoulder. He stood there for a moment, trying to think of something nice to say, but nothing came to mind in his present grumpy, embarrassed state. Besides, she was wearing a really bright green beret, and it distracted him. So, with a pitifully small and totally forced smile, he mumbled, “See ya,” and headed for the gate.

Maybe he should have tried harder to be friendly, but he just couldn't understand why anybody would go out of their way to talk to him. What did she want? Anyway, he had urgent business to attend to and couldn't stop to chat.

Martin speed-walked to the library, where he found himself eighth in line to use a computer. Not wanting to wait, he headed into the stacks instead and checked out
A Field Guide to Reptiles.
His mom offered him another ride home, but he didn't want to wait for that, either, so he trotted back to the house on foot and, without bothering to stop off inside, went straight to the barn. And when he threw open the door, what he saw made his heart sink.

Tumbled bricks. Empty pen. No lizard.

“Oh, no!” he groaned as he stepped in to survey the situation. Why hadn't he been more careful building the wall? That lizard could be anywhere now!

Or could it? There was no way he knew for a creature that size to get out of the barn.

As he got set to start searching, he noticed something odd next to the workbench. He had put one of his bug-collection display cases on the floor when the lizard was on the tabletop the night before—and there was the case, right where he'd left it: empty! Every cricket, beetle, and butterfly in the case had disappeared, and the mounting pins were all bent, loose, or scattered around the floor.

“What the…?”

Just as he picked up the display to assess the damage…

Squeak!

He turned around and saw his little friend, gazing up at him from the floor.

“You!”

Squeak!

“You are a very bad lizard. Bad! Those were
my
bugs.”

Squeak!

“You have crossed the line, my friend. Just for that…just for that…” Martin tried to think of a fitting punishment, but nothing came to mind. The lizard was bobbing back and forth, obviously happy to see his “mom,” and somehow punishment didn't seem like the way to go. “Okay, I'll let it slide this time. But don't let it happen again!”

He gently brought the lizard up to the tabletop, then opened the reptile book and took a deep breath, ready to get to work. But the critter made a lunge straight at another bug display, and Martin had to snatch it away.

“Hey! What did I just tell you?”

The lizard made a great big fuss, dancing and squeaking up a storm.

“Okay, I get it! Don't be such a brat.”

He got up and grabbed his bug net. “I'll be back in ten minutes. Don't go anywhere.”

He darted out of the barn and headed for the woods, but stopped short when he thought of something.
This guy has such a big appetite…I could spend the rest of my days chasing bugs. Maybe there's an easier way…?

He turned right around and ran up to the house, where he retrieved a half-empty package of baloney from the fridge. His hunch turned out to be a good one: when he took the leftover lunch meat back to the barn, the lizard wasted no time digging in. It ripped and chomped and gobbled the stuff like a hungry hyena feeding on a zebra carcass.

Martin watched the whole thing with wide eyes. “Wow. You can really put it away, huh.”

While the lizard worked on the baloney, Martin combed through the reptile book. There was some pretty interesting stuff in there, all right, but none of the lizards looked anything like this one. Mainly it was those deformed legs. The front ones were really tiny, and although the back ones were plenty big and strong, the feet looked like a bird's—three toes in front, one in back. There was one exotic lizard in the book that could run on its hind legs, but it didn't look at all like Martin's friend. Maybe being frozen in that egg for all that time had somehow mutated its genes, he thought.

As he leafed through the book, he kept talking to the lizard, as though somehow it might suddenly speak up and explain what was going on. “How come you don't look like any of these?” “Nah, you're way too big to be that one.” “If you drop that baloney on the floor, I'm throwing it away.”

But of course, he was talking to a reptile, and the reptile seemed perfectly happy to feast on the meat, wander around on the workbench, and completely ignore everything Martin said.

Still, Martin was thoroughly captivated by the little creature, and he couldn't help but smile as he watched it explore the tabletop like a curious kitten.

The blissful mood was instantly wrecked when his mom opened the door and stepped in.

“Martin, your room is a mess. You were supposed to pick it up.”

Martin jumped to his feet, doing his best to block her view of the creature. “Oh, um…I forgot. Sorry.”

“I need you to do it before dinner.”

“Okay.”

He was doing all kinds of twisty contortions to keep his frisky friend hidden, and his mom gave him an odd look. He smiled innocently, and that seemed to do the trick; she headed back out the door. But before she was gone…