Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat Read Free Page B

dropped open.
    The Rat talked a little louder. Emmy caught a few words now—“pellets” and “appalling” and “lunch.”
    The squirrel looked distinctly dimwitted. The Rat gave an irritated snort. And then, with a sudden flurry, the squirrel leaped past the Rat, flew up three branches, and disappeared into a knothole.
    The Rat’s mouth fell open in ludicrous imitation of the squirrel.
    Emmy stifled a laugh.
    The Rat’s jaw snapped shut. “And just what, may I ask, is so funny?”
    â€œOh—nothing.” Emmy tried for a serious tone. “Are you enjoying your freedom?”
    The Rat gave a loud and disapproving sniff. “I might enjoy it more if certain people weren’t here.” He looked sternly at Emmy. “Some rodents are shyof humans. Understandably, I might add, given your long and bloody history.”
    â€œLong and bloody ?”
    â€œEven your nursery rhymes—need I remind you of ‘Three Blind Mice’? Hardly fit for children, I must say.”
    â€œBut that’s just a—”
    The Rat interrupted coldly. “It’s too bad I can’t have a little chat with a friend without you showing up to scare him off.”
    â€œ Me? ” Emmy was annoyed. “It was you —”
    â€œI beg your pardon.” The sarcasm was very apparent. “I shall resume the conversation which was so rudely interrupted. Kindly do not interfere.”
    Emmy was speechless. She watched as the Rat climbed majestically up the trunk, pausing now and then to shake a hind foot as if to ward off a cramp. He arrived at the entrance to the squirrel’s home, adjusted his neck fur, and knocked.
    There was a sudden wild flurry of gray fur at the knothole. One paw swiped out, claws extended.
    The Rat backed down. “I say,” he called, sounding aggrieved, “you could hurt someone like that!”
    The squirrel’s head poked out of the hole. His furry arm held the stem of a very large acorn.
    â€œI don’t really care for nuts, thank you,” the Rat began. And then, with one swift movement, the acorn was flung with startling accuracy at the Rat’s head.
    It landed with a crack. The Rat gave a yelp and tumbled down, somersaulting, his little pink feet flailing helplessly in the air. And then Emmy caught him.
    He lay cradled between her palms, limp and gasping for breath. His small, plump body was surprisingly soft in her hands. She could see the patch of white fur behind his left ear—such an even triangular shape—and a thin trail of moisture from his quivering nose. Suddenly she felt full of pity for this small, arrogant, impossible creature, and she stroked the back of his head gently with her thumb.
    The Rat opened his eyes. “Kindly do not pet me. My name is not Fido, nor is it Fluffy. Put me down at once.”
    Emmy set the Rat down gently in the grass. He struggled to sit up, looking very stiff.
    â€œYou have been of some service to me,” he said frostily. “But let’s get one thing straight. I have my own life to live, and I don’t want you following me.Your mere presence drove that poor squirrel mad, and he”—the Rat sniffed—“he was just about to invite me to lunch.”
    Emmy looked at him. “You honestly think that squirrel—”
    The Rat waved an airy paw. “I accept your apology. Now leave me alone.”
    â€œI’m not apologizing, you nutcase—”
    â€œGo away ! Leave me alone ! Get a life !”
    Emmy stared at the imperious Rat, and turned on her heel. “Fine,” she said bitterly. “I’m going.”
    She crossed Main Street without looking for cars. She heard the screech of brakes behind her as she reached the art gallery, ran past the alley with its overflowing trash cans, and up the worn wooden steps that led to the ballet studio.
    She paused on the landing, catching her breath. That ungrateful Rat. Now she