Word of Mouse Page 8

  “I get what you’re going through, Isaiah,” she says. “Because I’m kind of going through some of the same stuff.”

  “thank goodness we have crumb cake.”

  “And double chocolate chip ice cream,” Hailey adds with a laugh.

  “and someplace safe with no melissas in it.”

  “Amen to that!”

  From that day on, I visit Hailey whenever the sun is up and my adoptive mischief is snoozing.

  I love our time together. Not just because Hailey sends me home every day with a napkin full of yummy-mummy goodies. What I really love about Hailey is that she listens. Even when I tell her about Mr. Brophy being the Mop Man and how I wish I could steal his keys and set my family free. She listens. I have never met any human, or mouse, quite like the white-haired Hailey.

  Well, maybe Mikayla.

  Mikayla’s sweet and kind like Hailey. She might be a good listener, too.

  She just doesn’t like to listen to me all that much.

  CHAPTER 36

  “Our brightest blazes are often kindled by unexpected sparks.”

  —Isaiah

  Back in the burrow with Mikayla’s mischief, it seems I’m getting more and more respect.

  Especially after I orchestrate what I call Operation Acorn.

  One night, on our daily food run into the Brophys’ house, I tell everybody to bring along as many acorns as they can carry. We haul them up to the countertops and chuck them like cannonballs at all the mousetraps we can see down below.

  The spring-loaded traps leap across the kitchen floor like crazy once we trip them with our nut bombardment!

  When the Brophys rush into the kitchen to see what’s causing such a ruckus, I use the diversion to launch a sneak attack on their dining table. We dash across their abandoned plates (all of them heaped with food) and grab everything we can carry—in our paws as well as a pair of napkin sacks!

  The next night, we grab a whole bag of Doritos (nacho cheese, naturally) we find hidden in Dwayne’s bedroom. We have to rip the bag open with our teeth and carry the cheesy triangles, one by one, down the sink pipe hole, but it’s a fun food run. We sing songs as we carry our cargo back to the burrow. I only wish Mikayla was with us. Perhaps she would’ve joined in on the chorus.

  Then there’s the trick I accidentally played on Mrs. Brophy. I don’t want to go into details, but suffice it to say, it involved a bowl of chocolate-covered raisins and the fact that mouse droppings look a lot like chocolate-covered raisins.

  “You could be a good leader, Isaiah,” James the Wise tells me. “We know that you are different from all the other mice in our mischief. But your differences give you certain advantages: inventiveness, resourcefulness…”

  “Blueness!” cracks Gabriel.

  We all laugh. I am, after all, what James the Wise calls a “team player.” This sort of good-natured ribbing is quite common in families. And when it comes to my adoptive family, I am quite willing to do anything and everything that needs to be done.

  Except talk about my past.

  That’s personal.

  And very, very private.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Silence is golden. Old mice are gray.”

  —Isaiah

  One night, James the Wise and the Council of Elders summon me to their high chamber.

  It’s time for my knees to start knocking together. The summons is very official-looking. Scary, even.

  But not as scary as the chamber where the elders are staring at me stonily.

  Why do the elders want to talk to me? I wonder. Did I do something wrong? Have they decided to kick me out of their mischief? Is it back to licking the bottoms of garbage barrels for me? What if I never see Mikayla again?

  “Isaiah the Blue,” booms one of the elders. “Step forward and hear your fate.”

  I do as I am told. I step forward to “hear my fate,” which, by the way, is a very ominous thing for an elderly mouse to yell at you, and by ominous, I mean not good.

  They’re going to kick me out. I just know it. I’ll be living in the gutter again.

  James the Wise rises from his throne at the far end of the chamber. “Isaiah.” His voice is strong and firm. “We, the elders of the Brophy Mischief, have taken a vote. Our verdict was unanimous.”

  Yep. Here it comes. The old heave-ho.

  “You, Isaiah the Brave, are henceforth and forthwith hereby to be known, now and forevermore, as…”

  I close my eyes.

  “… a true son of this mischief!”

  I gulp a little. They’re not kicking me out; they’re officially adopting me!

  I feel a huge surge of relief and happiness that I’m not being kicked out of the mischief. They like me! And maybe this could prove to Mikayla that we can be accepted even if we are a little different, especially by our own family.

  Family. My joy is dimmed by what I need to say now.

  “Thank you for this high honor, elders,” I say, bowing my head. “But I already have a family.”

  “Would you care to tell us about them?” a gray mouse named Griswold quickly asks. He’s rubbing his paws together like he’s eager to hear my story so he can blab about it to all his friends.

  “No, sir. Not really.”

  “We’re all quite curious,” adds an ancient mouse with a very toothy smile. Her name is Grundle. She’s lost all her whiskers and wears dark spectacles made out of discarded vanilla extract bottles.

  “In our family,” says Grundle, “we don’t have any secrets. Tell us, Isaiah. What made you so different? What made you so… so…blue?”

  My heart was sinking. Did they really want me for me, or for the amusement of having a strange blue mouse to tell tales about? I wasn’t ready to share my painful past, especially to these old gossips.

  Before I can speak up, James the Wise raises his paw. “Enough,” he commands. “We all have secrets, Grundle. For instance, I know those aren’t your real teeth. Those are two pieces of human chewing gum. Chiclets, I believe they are called.”

  Grundle quickly covers her mouth.

  So do all the other elders—to stifle their giggles.

  “If or when Isaiah is ready to tell us about his past,” James the Wise continues, “he will tell us. For now, Isaiah the Brave, you are an honorary son of the Brophy Mischief. Welcome to your new family.”

  I feel honored.

  And a little lonely, too.

  All this talk about a “new” family is making me miss Abe and Winnie and my ninety-four other brothers and sisters even more.

  It’s been so long since the day I escaped. I’ve even given up on re-marking my scent trail. Maybe Benji will never plan another breakout.

  Maybe I’ll never see my “old” family ever again.

  CHAPTER 38

  “A mouse wrapped up in himself makes a very small package.”

  —Isaiah

  Later that same night, I go outside to gaze up at the glorious moon.

  It’s what I do when I’m feeling bluer than usual.

  I heave a sad sigh. I miss my brothers and sisters so, so much. I remember them all, of course, but some more than others.

  Abe, my red-furred brother. He was my best bud in the whole world and such a joker! If he were here with me, we’d be doing that chocolate raisin prank every night at the Brophy house.

  And Winnie! I call her Winnie the Wonderful because—

  Yipes!

  I just heard something. A noise. In the shrubbery behind me.

  Leaves rustling. Twigs snapping. The kind of sounds a cat might make if it were stealthily slinking through the underbrush, preparing to pounce on its prey!

  Is it Lucifer? Is he on the prowl again? Am I the main course on his late-night dinner menu?

  “Isaiah?”

  I start breathing again. Right after I nearly jump out of my fur.

  It’s Mikayla.

  “Don’t do that!” I tell her.

  “Do what?”

  “Sneak u
p on me like that. You almost gave me a heart attack, and as I am a mouse, my heart is quite small. It wouldn’t take much to attack it!”

  “Don’t be silly,” she says. “You have a very big heart.”

  “No. It’s mouse-sized. Teeny-tiny. Can’t take too many more creatures stealthily sneaking up on it from the shadows.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking!”

  “You were slinking through the shrubbery.”

  Mikayla sighs. “I’m a mouse. It’s what we do. We slink or we scurry. Sometimes we dart, but out here in the yard, it’s mostly slinking.”

  I take a deep breath. Try to slow my rapidly pounding heart. It works. I no longer hear the tom-tom beat of war drums in my ears. “Sorry.”

  “You are forgiven, Isaiah. And when I said you had a big heart, I wasn’t talking about its size. I meant that you are compassionate and kind. I’ve seen you in action. How you rescued Gwindell. The way you always make sure everybody else has enough to eat before you take a single bite…”

  I don’t know what to make of this.

  Mikayla is talking to me. And rather sweetly, if I do say so myself. Therefore, I have to wonder: did Grundle or Griswold or some other withered old elder tell her to grill me? Do they think that because I have a mouse crush on Mikayla, I’ll reveal all my secrets to her, if not to them?

  “Have you been sent out here to interrogate me?” I ask rather meanly.

  Mikayla is confused. “To do what?”

  “Quiz me. Ask me all sorts of questions about my past.”

  “No. I just came out for a walk. I love strolling in the moonlight and thought you might like it, too.”

  I feel bad for accusing Mikayla. “Oh.”

  “Well, do you like strolling in the moonlight?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, it’s one of my favorite things to do. Moonlight strolling.”

  She smiles. “So why are we standing here?”

  “Good point.”

  And so we stroll together. In the moonlight.

  “So,” I say, “are Grundle’s teeth really made out of chewing gum?”

  Mikayla laughs. “Yes. Gwindell found an entire box of spare teeth hidden under her mattress one morning when we were fluffing up the beds.”

  “No wonder she has such fresh, minty breath.”

  This time, we both laugh.

  And then we talk. About everything and everybody—especially the Brophys. In fact, we’re having such a grand time, I muster up some of my newfound courage to pop the question I’ve been longing to ask ever since that first day we met.

  “Mikayla?”

  “Yes, Isaiah?”

  “Would you mind…I mean could you possibly… we’re all alone out here…”

  She smiles softly. “Would you like to hear me sing again?”

  “More than all the cheese in the moon up above.”

  She looks around. “Well, since we are alone and no one would hear…” She opens her mouth, and as the first lovely note of her song begins to sound, there’s a loud rustle as something huge leaps out of the shadows in front of us.

  Lucifer.

  CHAPTER 39

  “When the music changes, so does the dance.”

  —Isaiah

  Mikayla and I leap behind a huge rock—the kind that would shatter a lawnmower blade if the Brophys ever cut their grass—and hunker down low.

  But the cat isn’t after us.

  Tonight, it seems, he’s going for some baby birds chirping in the leafy oak tree where I crash-landed into the hawk nest.

  Wait a minute. Those chicks. Those are the very same baby hawks I met when their mother delivered me for breakfast.

  Up in the trees, Lucifer is swatting at the chicks. Batting their fuzzy noggins with the soft pad of his paw.

  “He’s playing Cat and Mouse with them,” I mutter.

  “But they’re birds,” whispers Mikayla.

  “It doesn’t matter what he bops. To an evil thing like Lucifer, life is one cruel game of Cat and Mouse.”

  “They’re just babies,” said Mikayla. “They can’t defend themselves.”

  “Where’s their mother when we actually need her?” I mumble. I hear another squawk. Lucifer just swatted another fuzzy head.

  Once again, I can’t believe I’m about to do what I’m about to do.

  “Wait here,” I say to Mikayla. “Hide.” I stand up.

  “What? Isaiah? What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Something I’m apparently very good at: acting like somebody else’s dinner!” I zip out from the darkness and find a bright pool of moonlight. “Yoo-hoo? Baldy! Over here!”

  Lucifer stops batting the baby birdies. Glares down at me with glowing yellow eyes.

  “You look like a wrinkled prune!” I call.

  “No he doesn’t,” says Mikayla, who, all of a sudden, is standing right beside me. “He looks like a plucked turkey!”

  “Um, Mikayla,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, “I thought you were going to hide and—”

  “You thought wrong.”

  Lucifer interrupts us with a horrible hiss. In a flash, he abandons the chicks and comes charging down the tree after us.

  “Fly, birds, fly!” I scream as I grab Mikayla’s paw so we can run away. “Fly!”

  “They might not be able to fly!” says Mikayla as we round the corner of the house with Lucifer in hot pursuit. “They’re just babies!”

  “Well, they need to learn! Fast!”

  Lucifer is right on our tails. The cat is extremely fast.

  He gains an inch or two on us every time we circle the house.

  Panting, I tell Mikayla, “We should split up. He’ll come after me, and I have treadmill training.”

  “Then why are you almost out of breath?” she gasps.

  “Because we’ve run around this house six times…”

  “We stay together,” she says. “We’re family.”

  “Well, that doesn’t mean we have to die together…” But I can tell it’s no use. Mikayla won’t abandon me. It’s very noble of her.

  It may also be very unwise. Because Lucifer is going to catch us.

  I’ve done the math in my head. Halfway through the next lap around the Brophy house, Lucifer will be in striking range. The lap after that, he’ll snag us both.

  He’s going to kill us.

  And eat us.

  Right after he tortures us for a few hours.

  The only good news? Well, the second I check in to mouse heaven, Mikayla will be there with me. They’ll give her an angel robe and a harp, and ask her to sing in the choir.

  It gives me something to look forward to after all the torturing, killing, and dying.

  Suddenly, there’s a screech behind us.

  A hawk screech.

  Mommy’s back.

  And now Mikayla and I have two killers chasing after us!

  CHAPTER 40

  “Faith gives one the ability to not panic.”

  —Isaiah

  The red-tailed hawk swoops down.

  I squeeze Mikayla’s paw and wait for the pain of that sharp beak snatching me up again.

  But it doesn’t come. I hear a yowl and throw a desperate glance behind me as I keep running.

  The hawk is attacking Lucifer!

  She yanks him off the ground, zooms skyward, and opens her claws. Lucifer drops like a ton of bald bricks!

  Of course, cats are very good at landing. They have an unusually flexible backbone and are born with a “righting reflex” so they have the ability to reorient their bodies as they fall and land on their feet.

  Which Lucifer does with a yelp.

  The hawk dropped him over the driveway, which is made out of concrete and full of pebbly potholes. Lucifer landed right inside one.

  While he’s hissing at the moon, I lead Mikayla across the street and into Hailey’s backyard.

  “W-w-what is this p-p-place?” asks Mikayla, her voice shaky. I suspect she may not have traveled as widely as she once
told me she had.

  “We’ll be safe in this house,” I say as we bound up the steps toward the back door.

  “Do humans live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we won’t be safe!”

  “Yes, we will. This human is different.” We hop through the pet door. “Upstairs,” I whisper.

  “I’m afraid,” says Mikayla as we tiptoe up the hall.

  “There’s no need to fear,” I tell her. “My friend Hailey is very sweet.”

  “Really? And exactly when did a human and a mouse, mortal enemies since forever, become friends?”

  “Oh, about a week ago. We met over crumb cake.”

  We traipse across the floor and scale Hailey’s bedside table. It’s late, so she’s sound asleep. I politely sit on top of her alarm clock and wait for her to wake up. Mikayla hides behind it.

  “I don’t see how you could ever be friends with a human,” Mikayla whispers from her hiding place. “They hate us!”

  “Well,” I say, pausing to reflect on the matter, “I suppose I could be friends with just about anyone—provided, of course, they wanted to be friends with me.”

  “You’re strange, Isaiah.”

  “Thank you. But I prefer the term different.”

  Hailey yawns, opens an eye. Mikayla gasps and ducks behind the clock.

  “Hello, Isaiah,” Hailey says sleepily.

  Since there is no keyboard handy, I just smile and wave.

  “Who’s your pretty friend?” she asks as Mikayla peeks over the top of the clock. “Any friend of Isaiah’s is a friend of mine,” Hailey tells her.

  Now it’s Mikayla’s turn to smile and wave, but she does it much more timidly than me.

  “You guys hungry?” Hailey swings her legs out of the bed and slips her feet into some very fluffy-looking half-shoes. “Let’s see what’s in the kitchen. My mom brought home cream horns from the bakery…”