“Maybe I should go to the creek and wash off.”
“Suit yourself,” said Mephitis. “But I bet there aren’t a lot of red mice in the world. Know what I mean? Really sick.”
Junior grinned. “Oh wow! Do I look like I’ve been dipped in . . . blood?”
Mephitis grinned. “Yeah, right.”
“Nasty!” exclaimed Junior. “That’ll spin their eyeballs. Skunk, they’re going to really hate us now.”
“I guess,” said Mephitis, not quite so enthusiastic.
“Yeah. I’m pumped,” said Junior. “Let’s go.”
Side by side, they walked through the orchard. Neither spoke, though occasionally Junior looked down at his fur. Gray House loomed larger and larger.
“Mouse,” said the skunk, coming to an abrupt halt. “I’ve been thinking: maybe you should go on first.”
“Alone?” cried Junior in alarm.
“Sure. That way you could see what’s going down. I can wait here. Then, if everything is okay, you come and get me. Look, your Aunt Lilly doesn’t even want me to come. Probably true for all the others, too. Check it out. I don’t mind waiting.”
“Hey, homie, we’re supposed to be doing this together.”
“We can. Only later.”
Junior turned from his friend and looked at the house. The silence was prolonged. “Hey, Mephitis, want to know something?”
“What?”
“I don’t want to go, either.”
“You turning chicken?” asked Mephitis.
“I’m a mouse, dude.”
“I thought a mouse has to do what a mouse has to do,” said the skunk.
“Well, I wish my mother never asked me to come.”
“Yeah, but she did, and you did, so now you’re done,” said the skunk. “Anyway, your mother will be worried.”
“How come you’re so nervous about my mother all the time?”
“It’s not all the time. Anyway, I like her.”
“Yo, skunk,” said Junior. “She’s just a mother. Big deal. Let me tell you, nothing special about my mother.” He stared at the house. “But if I do go ahead, you’re going to stay right here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise?”
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Okay,” said Junior. “I’ll be back fast as I can.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Mephitis, but when Junior didn’t move, he said, “What’s the matter?”
“I’m seriously sorry I came,” said Junior.
“But you have to. It’s your family.”
“How come you always talk about my family?” said Junior. “What about yours?”
Mephitis shrugged. “Mom and Dad got sick. Died.”
“Oh,” said Junior, suddenly afraid to look at his friend. “Brothers? Sisters?”
“Just me.”
“I thought you said—”
Mephitis shrugged again.
“Ever wish you had parents around again?” said Junior.
“Too late for that,” said Mephitis, looking down.
Junior felt he should say something more, but was fearful of using the wrong words. “Hey, what I was saying about mothers—”
“Forget it.”
“Okay,” said Junior.
For a moment neither spoke.
“Just make sure,” said Junior, “you wait here.”
“Right.”
Embarrassed to think that he had made a fool of himself, and perhaps a little angry that Mephitis had allowed him to do so, Junior wanted to get away. He started for Gray House. “Smell you later,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Mephitis, and watched his friend go, the bright red fur easy to follow in the green grass. Once, twice, Junior turned and looked back. The last time he waved.
As soon as Mephitis was sure Junior was not going to look back any more, he turned in the opposite direction. “No point hanging around,” said the skunk. “Hey, except for maybe Junior, nobody likes me. Not really.” Tears stung his eyes. “Mephitis,” he told himself. “Face it. Why would anybody like a skunk? Why don’t you do the world a favor and go jump in the river?” With that he put his pointy black nose to the ground and waddled off in the direction of Glitter Creek.
CHAPTER 20
A Red Mouse at Gray House
IT WAS A NERVOUS JUNIOR who made his way out of the Old Orchard toward Gray House. Disappointed that his friend had not come along with him, he paused twice to glance back. The first time he looked, he could still see Mephitis, his black-and-white tail wagging in the grass. The second time he looked, the tail was gone. Junior stood and stared. “Probably went back to sleep,” he muttered, wishing he were doing exactly that.
Junior sighed. He was sorry he had asked Mephitis about his parents. He had had no idea the skunk’s parents were dead. He hoped Mephitis wasn’t mad at him for asking. He looked down at himself. He was very red. Maybe, he thought, being bloody looking is not such a good thing. He rubbed his belly. Though his paws turned pinker than normal, his belly didn’t change at all. Junior flung himself down and rolled about in the grass. He remained red.
Mama is going to kill me, Junior thought with increasing nervousness. Next moment he decided his predicament was not his fault. If Poppy hadn’t invited him, he would never have come to Gray House. It’s all so dumb was the phrase that kept running through his head. And if they see me with Mama, he thought as he continued on, they’ll think I’m still a baby.
Junior moved forward, only to pause and look back one more time. Still seeing no sign of Mephitis, the mouse pressed forward, eyes down, staring at his feet. When he finally did look to check his path, there stood another mouse directly in front of him. What’s more, the mouse was staring openmouthed at Junior.
Junior came to a halt. Uh-oh, Mama’s family. I think I’m gonna puke, he thought.
Junior cast his eyes down and crouched close to the ground. He told himself to hide all emotions: the less I show them, he thought, the more invisible I’ll be. Even so, he stole a look at the staring mouse and saw then that the mouse was young—younger than he. Junior felt better.
“Hey, hello!” called the young mouse.
“Hello yourself,” returned Junior.
“Who . . . and . . . what are you?” the young mouse asked. He was staring wide-eyed at Junior.
Junior frowned. “I’m a mouse,” he muttered. “What do you think?” He belched, only to be immediately sorry he had. What was always so funny with Mephitis now felt dumb.
“I sort of guessed you were a mouse,” returned the youngster. “But I never saw a red mouse before. What kind of mouse are you? Or are you just wounded?”
“I’m a golden deer mouse. That okay with you?”
“Oh, sure. It’s great. No problem. Where do you come from?”
Junior waved in the direction of the forest.
“The forest?”
“Yeah.”
“Dimwood Forest?”
“Right.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. How come you’re here?”
“My old mouse used to live around here.”
“Your mother?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
“Ah . . . Poppy.”
“Poppy?” shrieked the young mouse.
“You have some problem with that?” said a scowling Junior as he reared up on his hind legs and balled his paws into fists.
“You saying your mother is . . . Poppy? The Poppy?”
“What’s the big deal? Do you know her?”
“Know her? Of course I know her. Everyone knows Poppy. She’s famous.”
“She is?”
“Hey, duh, think of all the things she’s done.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. For one thing, she fought Mr. Ocax.”
“Who’s he?”
“You sure Poppy’s your mother? I mean, you must be joking. You gotta know, Mr. Ocax, the owl. The one who was di
ctator over this whole area.”
“Oh . . . yeah,” said Junior, who had never heard the name before. “That one.”
“You gotta know how, all alone, your mother dueled him—one porcupine quill against all his talons and beak. And she won! That owl got killed. So we were all free. Then she found this whole other place for the family to live. New House. And she had this friend, a giant porcupine. Then she went off to have more adventures in the forest. With beavers and stuff. I mean, she must be the most famous mouse in the whole world! And you’re her son? That’s fantastic. Cool. Like, you’re not just kidding me?”
“Why should I?”
“Well, if you don’t know . . . But that’s amazing. You are so lucky! I wouldn’t think with all her adventures she’d have time to have kids! What’s your name?”
“Junior.”
The young mouse held out his paw. “How do you do, Junior. My name is Cranberry. I’m really glad to meet you. I mean, seriously honored. Yow, Poppy’s son! That’s so amazing! No one is going to believe that I met you first. But I did, didn’t I? I’m so lucky. Maybe not as lucky as you, but you better come on. All my friends will give pips to meet you. I mean, your mother, I mean, she . . . must be the coolest mother in the whole world!” The young mouse started to run toward Gray House, only to stop and cry, “Come on!”
Junior, hardly knowing what to make of what he had heard, followed along at a slower pace, which meant the other mouse kept waiting for him to catch up. As they drew closer to the house, Junior began to see other mice.
“Hey, you guys,” yelled Cranberry. “Guess who I found? It’s Poppy’s son! No, really! Her real son! His name is Junior. And I met him first.”
Within moments a ring of staring young mice surrounded Junior. They gazed at him, pink noses sniffing, whiskers quivering.
“He lives in the forest,” Cranberry explained with excited authority. “He’s a golden deer mouse, but as you can see, he’s all red.”
“Is Poppy really your mother?” one of the other mice found the courage to ask.
“I guess,” said Junior, eyes cast down toward the ground.
“Is it true she’s amazingly strong?”
“I don’t—”
“Sure she is,” one of the other mice answered. “Everyone knows she kills owls and other huge, mouse-eating birds. And she’s a genius, too.” She turned to Junior. “Right?”
Junior said, “Well, maybe, but—”
“It’s so true,” said another mouse. “The whole universe knows she’s had these amazing adventures. How could you not know it? Wow! It would be so fantastic to have a mother who did those things. Isn’t that right?” he asked Junior.
“I suppose.”
“Doesn’t she talk about all that stuff?”
“No.”
The mice stared in disbelief at Junior.
“Whaddya mean?” someone finally said.
Junior shrugged. “She just doesn’t. That okay with you?”
Then another mouse said, “But you do know about all the things she’s done, don’t you?”
Junior felt his cheeks grow warm. “Sure. Sort of.”
“You’re just being modest,” said another.
“Is it hard having a famous mother?”
“Not really.”
“Can you tell us something she did? Something no one knows about?” The other mice quickly joined in, creating a chorus. “Please tell us! We won’t tell anyone. We promise.”
Junior looked around. The mice were waiting for him to say something. “Well,” he said, “on the way over here, we were attacked by a bear.”
“A bear!” they cried in horrified unison.
“But,” Junior continued, “she got us away.”
“That’s just what Poppy would do,” said one of the mice. “So amazing. A bear. How did she do that?”
“A friend—a skunk.”
“She has a friend who’s a skunk?” cried a mouse.
“Yeah. She called him and he—and I—helped.”
“You did?”
“I’m cool.”
“That’s incredible!”
“I’ve heard one of your mother’s best friends is a monster porcupine,” said another. “Is that true?”
“Yeah.”
There were ooohs and ahs.
“That’s so cool,” one of mice said. “Lungwort—he’s head mouse here—he says we should always stay away from porcupines. What’s Poppy’s friend like? Is he scary? Do you like him? Do you ever see him?”
“Uh, sure.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ereth.”
“He your friend, too?”
“He lives next to us.”
The mice stared at him with awe.
“Did Poppy come to stay?” a mouse asked.
“She will,” said another. “I’m sure she will.”
“She’s talking to Lungwort right now,” said another. “Probably telling him what she’s going to do about the bulldozer.”
“Be easy for her.”
“Wish my mother was like Poppy,” said another mouse.
“Actually, I’m related to her. My father is her second cousin. I think.”
“Lucky.”
“I guess,” said Junior, “I better go find her.”
“We’ll take you,” called someone. “But hey, how come you’re all red?”
“I . . . like it.”
“It’s so nasty. How’d you do it?”
“Blackberry juice.”
“Wow! That’s what I’m going to do, too.”
“Me, too.”
“No, me!”
Junior, swept along by the crowd of mice, looked up. Gray House was just ahead of them. It seemed huge, ungainly. Ugly. But even more than that, he could see his mother on the porch, and she was looking right at him. She did not look happy.
CHAPTER 21
Mephitis Meets Someone
A DEJECTED MEPHITIS WADDLED slowly through the Old Orchard in the direction of Glitter Creek. He was very sorry he had come on this trip. It had nothing to do with Junior. Junior was his best friend. For that matter, his only friend. It was just that he had thought the trip would be fun. Something different. But all the talk of Junior’s family upset him. It reminded Mephitis of his own family—the one he didn’t have. He had never felt lonelier.
That the day was bright and balmy was nothing to him. That he kept brushing by bright flowers, passing by fallen, crisp, ripe apples, was of no importance. He hardly felt or smelled the tall, sweet grasses that brushed his face. He would have preferred a soggy, gloomy rain. If it rained, he would have an excuse to dig under a rock or curl up in a log and go to sleep. Better to sleep than to be lonely. Sleep passed the empty times. Sleeping meant he didn’t have to solve problems. And if he didn’t try to solve problems, he couldn’t fail at it. He hated failing. Best of all, if he slept, he didn’t have to think. He had done a lot of napping before he became friends with Junior.
Except—Mephitis was not sleepy.
He did feel badly that he had broken his promise to Junior about staying at Gray House. But if the mice there were like Junior’s Aunt Lilly, endlessly complaining about his stink and his manners, it would just be awful. Skunks stunk, sometimes. That’s the way it was. A good thing, too. He had chased the bears away, hadn’t he?
Upon reaching the edge of the orchard, Mephitis had to decide which direction to go. What he really wanted was to run off to someplace where no one knew him. A new place. A place where he could be a brand-new skunk. Exactly how that skunk would be new and different, he wasn’t sure. Maybe, if he went far enough away, it would be easier to figure out.
That thought led to another: he would go to the creek and follow it for as long as he could. He’d let the creek lead him.
His decision filled Mephitis with new energy. He hurried along and soon reached the bank of the creek, which he scrambled down so fast, he could hardly stop himself.
Except—someone was
already there.
“Watch it, stink tail,” said the porcupine. “You almost ran into me. That wouldn’t be too smart.”
When Mephitis realized it was the porcupine who lived near Junior’s place, he backed away. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t see you.”
“Try opening your eyes,” muttered Ereth.
“I said I’m sorry,” said the skunk. He wheeled about and started off down the side of the creek.
“Hold it!” cried Ereth.
Mephitis stopped.
“You aren’t, by any crumb-covered chance, Junior’s skunk friend, are you?”
“What if I was?”
“Then what are you doing here? Weren’t you going with Poppy? Where is she?”
“Junior went to that mouse family house. I don’t know where Miss Poppy is.”
“How come you’re not with them?” said Ereth.
“Changed my mind.”
“Glad you have a mind to change,” said Ereth.
“Buzz you,” said the skunk, and started off again.
“Hey, whisper wit,” cried Ereth. “Did you get into a fight with Poppy?”
Mephitis stopped. “No way.”
“You rude to her? She send you home?”
“Why should I be nasty to her?”
“Because you’re a teenager, snot soup.”
“Hey, what is it with you?” said Mephitis. “How come you’re always saying mean things? I’d never be rude to Miss Poppy. I like her.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, she treats me decent, not like some I could mention.”
“She treats everyone nice,” muttered Ereth.
“Even you?” asked Mephitis.
“’Specially me,” said Ereth.
“That’s a stretch.”
“Hey, blot brain, are you looking to get a prickly tail in your face?” Ereth advanced on the skunk.
“Get any closer, pincushion,” returned Mephitis, “and you’ll get some stink in your snout.” He spun about, stood on his front paws, and aimed his backside right at Ereth.
“Snake suspenders!” cried Ereth, retreating a few steps. “Don’t get yourself in an uproar. I was just worried about Poppy.”
Mephitis lowered himself and took a few steps away, but then paused and looked around at Ereth. “The thing is,” he said, “we got separated from Miss Poppy.”