Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry Read Free Page B

her at all!”
    â€œI know. She left the boat a mess after her sailing lesson yesterday. I found it when I went out for a sail at dawn. Lines tangled, mud everywhere … did she think I wouldn’t notice?”
    â€œShe’s been careless with her clothes, too. Maggie has done more mending in the last two weeks than in the past year. And such odd rips in the fabric, too—as if they had been clawed .”
    â€œAnd now these lies,” came her father’s voice. “I want to trust her, but how can I if she doesn’t tell the truth?”
    Up in her room, Emmy’s throat felt thick with words she couldn’t say. She wanted her parents to trust her, too. She wanted it more than anything. And she was responsible—they just didn’t know it.
    She had cleaned up the boat. She hadn’t ripped her clothes. And the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she hadn’t trashed her room while sleepwalking.
    â€œShe never used to be like this, back when we were poor.” Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you think all this money we have now is spoiling Emmy?”
    â€œMaybe. I almost wish your great-uncle William had left everything to those other shirttail relatives of his.”
    â€œDo you mean Jane Barmy and her parents?” Mr. Addison sounded shocked. “You must be kidding.”
    â€œNo, not them. Remember your aunts? The ones we named Emmy after?”
    â€œEmmaline and Augusta. Fine old girls. I used to stay at their place in Schenectady in the summers. They didn’t allow any nonsense! They treated me well, and I had a grand time sailing in the Mohawk River, but I had chores, too, every day of the week. And on Sundays I had to go early to church to ring the bells.”
    Emmy scowled. She didn’t want to hear about some old aunts she couldn’t remember meeting, or how many chores they’d once made her father do. What she wanted was to hear her parents say they had some faith in their only daughter.
    Of course she knew how bad everything looked—all the evidence was against her. But still, she couldn’t help wishing they believed in her a little more.
    Ding dong! Dinnnng doonnng!
    â€œOh, it’s that nice Joe Benson at the door,” said Kathy Addison. “He’s such a responsible boy, don’t you think? He’s in Scouts, and he babysits his brother, too.”
    â€œYes,” said Mr. Addison grimly. “I just hope some of it rubs off on Emmy.”
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    The bedroom door closed behind Emmy with a click , and her footsteps faded away down the hall. Beneath the bed, two rodents stirred, shook themselves, and crawled out from under the bedskirt, dripping green onto the carpet.
    The piebald rat glared. “Happy, Cheswick? Now that you nearly drowned me in mouthwash?”
    â€œBut, Jane, dear,” said the black rat, “you smell so minty fresh!”
    Jane Barmy snorted and dried her fur briskly on the dangling edge of Emmy’s bedspread. “Now, listen. First, we’re going to wreck her room—”
    â€œAgain?” said Cheswick. “Her parents are going to be furious!”
    Miss Barmy gave him a chilly glare. “The concept of revenge seems to be eluding you, Cheswick … but never mind.” She clawed up a bit of Emmy’s carpet, smiling with her thin rodent lips. “Next, we’re going to the Antique Rat. There’s a nice little hole in the ceiling, just right for spying.”
    â€œSpying?” said Cheswick, his ears alert. “What for?”
    â€œI want to find out more about those Sissy-patches. I have”—she rubbed her paws together—“an absolutely brilliant idea!”
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    Emmy stood at the kitchen counter watching Mrs. Brecksniff flip an egg. “But can’t I just eat in the kitchen?” She glanced at the door to the dining room, from which her father’s voice came faintly.