Showdown in Crittertown (6 page)

Tanya imitated Mrs. Olson voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to discourage you. I just thought you ought to know what you're up against.”

Tanya used her own voice to wail, “We're up against the wall! But we can't quit.”

April said something in her usual whisper. Javier leaned close and repeated, “Her father says, ‘when you're up against the wall, draw a door.'”

Javier looked puzzled. Then he drew a rectangle in his sketchbook and sketched a doorknob in the middle. He ripped out the page and handed it to April. “Here's your door. But I don't think it's going to do us much good.”

April hid her mouth as she laughed softly. “It doesn't work like that, but… thanks.”

Jill said, “I think what April's dad means is, we just need to keep trying!” She looked around the crowded garage. “After all, what else are we going to do with all these pinecones and Popsicle sticks?”

Everyone laughed, and most of the children took that as the signal to start making something. But Tanya said, “That's a good question, Jill. What
are
we going to make with all this stuff? I say we go to the library for some fresh ideas. There might be some new crafts magazines on the shelves by now.”

I knew there were, because the librarian had picked some up that morning. Normally, I'd be eager for a chance to glimpse Poetry. But knowing that we might soon be at war…

“I'll go with you,” Jill told Tanya. “I could use the walk. I'm sure Buttercup feels the same way.”

The dog wagged his tail so hard that his butt wagged, too. And we all laughed. None of us ever tired of laughing at Buttercup's butt.

Bill didn't want to go to the library. “I'd rather just build stuff.” The other boys decided to stay, too.

Jane scooped me up and put me in her pocket. “I know Cheddar will want to come. He loves the library.”

I would've squeaked “no” or written a note to that effect. But Grayson squeaked first. “See what you can find out, Cheddar. No one will suspect you.”

I wondered if I should feel insulted. Why wouldn't anyone “suspect” me—because everyone knows I'm a scaredy-mouse? I chose not to think about that. I simply agreed. “All right. But I don't even know what to look for.”

“Just keep your eyes and ears open,” Grayson squeaked. “Look for anything different. Listen to whatever's going on. I'm counting on you—and so is Pops.”

Jane started to lift Nilla, too, but she scampered out of the girl's hand. Jane shrugged. “I guess Nilla doesn't want to go.”

Grayson busied himself bending some wire. So Tanya said, “Looks like Grayson and Nilla want to stay here with the boys.” She patted Nilla's head with the tip of her finger and then added, “We'll be back soon.”

As we were leaving, I saw April use a thumbtack to stick Javier's drawing of a door up on one of the plywood walls.

He asked, “What are you doing?”

April giggled. “I don't know, really. I just thought it might lead us somewhere good.”

Chapter 7  
Library Spy

On the way to the library, I scribbled a note on a gum wrapper I found in Jane's pocket. It said,

Doing some research. Don't worry about me.

Then I signed it with,

Just keep thinking…happy thoughts! Cheddar

As Jane read the note to the other girls, I slipped off to the basement. I lingered in the narrow passage, listening to the sounds of the colony.

Many mice softly snored. Some cleaned their nests. I also heard the peaceful sound of pages being turned. Thanks to all the book sale donations, the library colony always had plenty of things to read, even without going upstairs.

I sniffed the air. Something was different. There was a fiery smell, but it wasn't at all like Cookbooks' roasted acorns.

I wasn't the only one sniffing. I heard Cookbooks herself announce, “I smell…”

Every mouse held its breath, dreading the word “cat.” Instead, Cookbooks concluded “…foreign mouse” just as I stepped into the basement.

She saw me and smiled. “It isn't a stranger. It's Cheddar!”

Cookbooks patted me with one of her plump paws. “We didn't know you were coming. But give me a minute, and I'll whip up a snack.”

“It's all right,” I said. “I just tagged along with the children. They came to get more craft project ideas.”

Cookbooks shrugged. “Recipes for making things you can't eat. Decorations. Toys. Lots of humans like that stuff. I don't see why. If I'm going to spend time making something, I want to be able to eat it.”

Poetry laughed her wonderful, musical laugh. “Some people prefer things that are more permanent than pie.”

Cookbooks shrugged again. “I suppose it's a matter of taste.”

Poetry said, “My grandfather is napping. But I know he'll want to see you—especially if you have any news.”

“No news!” I said quickly. “Just visiting with the kids.”

I looked all around the basement. In the daylight, it was nearly as shabby as the post office cellar. But the stacks of books everywhere gave it a certain charm.

Without being too obvious, I tried to locate the source of that strange smell. It seemed to be coming from the hot water heater.

I scurried over there. At my approach, several soldiers suddenly gathered to form a furry wall between the large machine and me.

“Is everything all right?” I strained to see through the gaps between their broad shoulders. I glimpsed General History and several other young males bent over some kind of oven. Their faces glowed from the heat. They wore heavy mittens to protect their paws.

Poetry caught up with me. “Don't mind my rude brother and his friends. They are…”

One of the soldiers broke ranks and placed his paw over Poetry's mouth. “It's nothing,” the soldier said. “Nothing wrong. Nothing to concern you.”

General History looked up from his task. “Cheddar? What are you doing here?”

He glared briefly at his soldiers before changing his expression to a stiff smile. “No one told me we had…visitors.”

“Only me,” I said. “Just wanted to say hello while the children do some research upstairs.” Then I added, “I thought I smelled something cooking. But I guess I was wrong.”

General History laughed nervously. “Oh, no! Just some…metallurgy.”

“Metallurgy?” I asked.

“A hobby,” General History said. “Making things out of metal, like jewelry and lamps.”

“That sounds interesting!” I exclaimed. “May I see?”

General History stepped forward and took my paw. Behind him the soldiers reformed their tight line, once again blocking my view. “Nothing much to look at,” he said. “And you don't want to singe your fur. Shall we see if grandfather's awake?”

I assured General History that I had no news, and therefore there was no need to wake Nonfiction. When Poetry started to talk to me, two of the soldiers intruded.

I tried to sound casual when I told her, “If you ever want to visit or write to me, just tell Chitchat to tell Buttercup. He likes visiting here because it gives him a chance to fuzz up Dot's tail.”

Poetry smiled. And it looked even more beautiful than the sun breaking through clouds. “Thanks, Cheddar. Maybe I will. It's about time I saw more of this town.”

The grim presence of the staring soldiers cast a shadow over both of us. So we said nothing more.

I felt the soldiers' eyes on me, even after I squeezed through the passage. I thought about trying to sneak into the library to be with the children. But knowing that Dot lurked in there made me decide to wait outside with Buttercup.

I told him Poetry might visit the post office. Buttercup winked at me. “You're sweet on her, aren't you? I can tell just by the way you say her name, like it's a song.”

I laughed.

“What's so funny?” he asked.

I explained, “The words to a song
are
poetry.” I felt my cheeks grow hot as I admitted, “Yes, I do think she's the prettiest mouse I've ever seen. But…” My voice trailed off. What could Poetry possibly see in me?

So I simply concluded, “Anyway, I hope it's all right that I told her you'd be willing to give her a lift.”

“Any time!” Buttercup replied. “You know how much I enjoy teasing Dot.”

I laughed.

Buttercup ran to the nearest window and barked. Bow wow wow, WOOF!

Jill rushed out the door. “Shh, Buttercup! You scared the library cat.”

Buttercup wagged his tail, and Jill patted his head. “I suppose you can't help it. You just don't know any better.”

Buttercup and I waited until Jill went back in the library to burst out laughing.

We spent the rest of the afternoon helping the children with their crafts. Nilla and I found that we could weave pot holders super fast by turning it into a kind of dance. It was fun!

When Buttercup left the garage to play catch with Bill and Wyatt, Grayson asked me what I'd learned at the library. I described General History's strange “hobby.”

“What do you think it means?” Nilla wondered.

Grayson frowned. “They must be making weapons!”

“Out of what?” Nilla asked.

Grayson's frown deepened. “Did you see a source for metal?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember everything I'd seen behind the soldiers. “Yes!” I suddenly squeaked. “I saw a box of ‘jumbo paper clips.'”

Grayson started pacing. “They must be melting the tips of the paper clips to sharpen them into swords, arrows, and spears!”

I shuddered.

But Grayson smiled. “Good work, Cheddar. Did you find out anything else?”

Before I could answer, Jane asked, “What's all the squeaking about?”

Jill handed me her assignment pad. I felt guilty lying to such nice children. But I had my “orders.” So I wrote, “Nothing much. Just the crafts.”

Jill looked skeptical. “Really? Then why did you stop working?”

“Yes,” Jane teased. “Look at all April's done while you've been squeaking.”

April blushed. Then she said softly, “I call them ‘imagination doors.'” She added, “You can put them anywhere you want your mind to wander.” She had used Popsicle sticks, twine, and tiny acorns to make several small doors. Instead of a house number or name, each one had a label like “the future,” “precious memories,” or my favorite, “happy thoughts.”

“I think they're great!” Tanya declared. “You could use them in a dollhouse, or just put them on a wall, your locker, a tree—anywhere.”

“I bet we sell a bunch of these at the fair,” Hannah said.

So we all started making “imagination doors.” Coming up with different labels for them was fun.

At least it would have been if my mind hadn't kept wandering to scary places. What if we did get into a war with the library colony? What if they really were making weapons far worse than anything our colony had?

“Why don't you write a label?” Jane prompted me.