When You Wish upon a Rat (14 page)

“Could I have some more soft drink?” Ruth asked. Mrs. Craze turned and looked at her severely.

“Could I or
may
I?”

“May I?” Ruth said in a small voice.

“I'm not sure if that is a good idea, dear,” her mother said softly. “You've got your party this afternoon, remember.”

Ruth nodded as though she totally agreed, but
what did that have to do with having another drink?
She tried to smile, but she could feel the heat rising into her cheeks.

Her mother was smiling at her. “You don't want to overdo it now, do you?”

Ruth shook her head. “No.”

They were both looking at her now, just as though she were a greedy little girl half her age who needed to be told how much she could eat.

Lunch over, her father folded up his brochures. “So, when does the party start?” he asked cheerfully.

Ruth looked at her mother, who was clearing the table, and tried to stay calm. It was just that her real father never took the
slightest interest in parties. Come to think of it, Ruth couldn't remember there being a party at their house
ever,
so this was all still very new.

“Like some coffee, darling?” Mrs. Craze asked her husband.

“I'll have it in the study, thanks.” He pushed his chair away from the table and smiled down at Ruth and ruffled her hair. “I've got some catch-up work to do. You have a lovely time with your friends, Ruthie, and I'll see you later for the birthday tea.”

“Dad?” Ruth was determined to catch him before the opportunity slipped away or she lost her nerve. “What happened to all your inventions?”

Both her parents stopped and looked at her, puzzled frowns on their faces. Their polite smiles unnerved Ruth further, but she tried not to show it.

“What are you talking about, Ruth?” Her father frowned as though he were trying to remember something.

“You used to work on them all the time,” Ruth went on gamely.

“Oh,
that
!” Her father gave a dismissive wave and laughed. “I gave up that rubbish ages ago! It wasn't getting me anywhere. It was costing money, not making us any. I finally got sensible.”

“What about you, Mum?” Ruth said tentatively. “Are you still making pots?”

Mrs. Craze threw back her head and laughed heartily, except
that it didn't sound like a real laugh. “Goodness me, no!” she said. “That time was so long ago I can hardly remember it!”

“And the boys?”

The smiles suddenly disappeared. They were both staring at her in a hard way, as though they were challenging her to go on.

“
Who?
” her mother said coldly.

“My brothers?” Ruth whispered.

For a few moments there was a heavy silence. Her parents continued to stare at her stonily. Ruth knew that she'd said the wrong thing and part of her wanted to backtrack, but somehow she couldn't. Then something quite weird happened. Mr. and Mrs. Craze turned to each other and began to laugh.

“Oh my goodness!” Mr. Craze had to get his hankie out to wipe his eyes.

“Oh, isn't she sweet!”

“Bringing them up!”

“Hilarious!”

Ruth tried to smile because they were finding it so funny.

“You are a funny one,” Mrs. Craze chuckled, coming around and smoothing Ruth's hair out of her eyes.

Being up close to her new mother, Ruth could see what was different about her. There was no light in her eyes at all. She looked over at her father and a shiver of alarm ran through her
because … his were the same. It was as if their eyes were made of something else. Something dead, like stone or … Her breath caught again.
Calm down, Ruth. Calm down.

“Ruth, what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Your face has gone white, dear.” Her mother's concerned, smiling face moved even closer. “Aren't you feeling well?”

“I'm fine.” Ruth gulped. “Really, just a bit …”

“A bit what, dear?”

Embarrassed, Ruth shrugged and turned away. Their eyes were making her feel strange. But she couldn't say
that.

Mrs. Craze took Ruth's arm. “What about a little rest before the others come over?”

Ruth couldn't remember the last time she'd had a rest in the middle of the day, but she let her mother help her up from the table. Maybe it would be nice to have some time on her own. She needed to calm down a bit and … get used to things.

“Yeah, maybe I'll have a read or something,” she mumbled.

“Good idea.” Mrs. Craze gripped her arm firmly. “Come on into the reading room.”

The reading room?
Mrs. Craze was leading her into the hallway. She pushed open the door to Paul's old room and Ruth stopped in the doorway and stared in wonder.

The room used to be full to bursting with her little brother's junk. All his toys were usually spread out over the floor, along
with his clothes, his books, and his sports equipment. The curtains used to be torn and the wallpaper faded and peeling. Not one trace of any of that was left. An odd, flat feeling made her think for a moment that she might cry. It was as if her little brother had never existed! His room had been painted and redecorated with nice curtains and tasteful prints, making it look much bigger. One whole wall was now a bookcase and it was filled with books and CDs and expensive-looking vases and ornaments. There were a couple of easy chairs and a big cream sofa under the window that looked particularly inviting.

She didn't cry because … this was
exactly
what she wanted.

“Have a lie-down there.” Her mother gently pushed Ruth toward the cream sofa.

Ruth did as she was told; she kicked off her sandals and lay down, resting her head on one of the big puffy cushions. She had never even sat on such a plush couch before. Lying there made her feel like a queen. “I'll bring you over some magazines,” her mother said, “then leave you alone.”

“Okay, thanks, Mum.”

Ruth took the magazines.
Vogue, Harper's, Hello!
Imagine if all her old friends could see her now! How envious would they be?

“See you in an hour, sweetie.” Her mother smiled from the doorway. “You have a nice relax.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

Ruth picked the first magazine up off the pile. She flipped through the hot new looks for next autumn and a gossip article about an actress that she had never heard of and yawned. She picked up the next magazine and read about a society wedding in England with eight bridesmaids and all the men in kilts. After looking at every picture she put that one down too, and simply lay there trying to familiarize herself with her new life. How wonderful it was. How lovely this room was. Everything was in its place. Everything was perfect.

Ruth loved the huge blue-and-white planter in one corner filled with maidenhair fern, and the nifty little ceramic table with a polished wooden chess set on top. She yawned again, remembering how she used to occasionally play chess with Marcus. In spite of the age difference they were of equal ability, more or less. He won sometimes; other times she did. But he never seemed to mind too much when she won. In fact, he was always nice about it.

“You're pretty good, Ruthie,” he'd say as he packed the pieces away. “For a girl,” he'd add, just to tease her. Some guys would hate to be beaten by their little sister.

Ruth was beginning to feel drowsy. The warm sun was shining in through the window and she was feeling so comfortable. She looked over to the corner where Paul used to keep all his special stuff—the plastic figurines, the dragons and
cars and superheroes, his video games and all his board games —and a pang of something that felt almost like sadness went through her. She closed her eyes.

She is wandering all alone in her new back garden. Along the paved paths and past the rows of roses. How lovely everything is! She goes past the swimming pool and the new gazebo, down toward the row of trees by the back fence. A strange little shed behind the trees is grabbing her attention. Funny that she didn't notice it before. Her curiosity grows as she gets nearer. Ruth takes a quick look at the house. She can see through the big glass windows that her mother is sitting on the couch, and she can hear the canned laughter from the television.

Ruth takes a deep breath and walks on down the path and behind the trees. Now that she is here among them, there seem to be so many more, and the shed is farther away than she thought. It is almost a forest.

As she gets nearer to the shed, she has an odd feeling of familiarity. Yet she knows that she has never seen it before. A slither of fear slides in under her rib cage. She turns back to where she's come from, but the house, the bright garden, and the sparkling pool seem so far away now. Will she be able to find her way back? Of course she will. Besides, curiosity is eating her alive.

Shadows from the branches overhead are falling on the
windows of the little shed. She creeps up to the window. At first she sees nothing. There is so much dust and grime on the glass. She pulls a hankie out of her pocket, wipes off the dirt, and peers in.

Someone is in there!

Ruth's heart beats quickly as she tries to summon her courage for another look. She wishes that it weren't so gloomy under the trees. Maybe if it were still bright and hot, she wouldn't feel so scared. And yet something is preventing her from turning back. She swallows and steps up to the window again. She stares in at two dark, blurry shapes; one short, the other much taller. Perhaps they are statues, but … of whom? Her eyes gradually adjust to the low light inside the shed, and the figures become clearer. The tall one is dressed in long shorts and a bright T-shirt; the shorter one has hair sticking out around his ears and that reminds her of …
Oh no!
A chill runs like an electric current up her spine. Here they are. Her brothers! Out in this gloomy little shed at the bottom of the garden. But what are they doing here?

Ruth shivers. They are facing each other, but they don't seem to be moving at all. A rush of terror overwhelms her.
What has she done?
She walks around the little shed, looking for the door—first one side and then around the corner to the other side—but finds none. She has never seen a building before with no doors. How did her brothers get inside?

She walks all the way around the shed again and finally sees
that there
is
a door, a small red one high up on the wall. Luckily, there is a wooden fruit box nearby. Ruth drags it over, climbs up, and, reaching as high as she can, just manages to push the door open. Scrambling up onto the ledge is difficult because there are no footholds. She tries three times and scratches one knee badly before she succeeds. At last she is sitting on the ledge. She looks down.

With no dirty glass between them, she can see that Marcus is smiling, one arm extended toward Paul as though he's about to ruffle his little brother's hair. Paul is looking down at the little figurine he is holding in one hand. Ruth's heart softens.

“Hey, Paul!” she calls loudly. “What are you doing?” It's a silly question. She can see that they are just standing there. She calls out again. “Hey, you guys. It's me, Ruth.” Neither brother moves. Maybe they can't hear her or—she shudders—what if they aren't real? “Marcus!” she calls desperately. “Hello!”

But neither of them gives any sign that they have heard.

Just as she is about to drop down into the shed, a sharp, shrill sound pierces the air. Is it a siren? She turns around. There it goes again, and again.
A siren or a bell?
She peers back through the trees to the house, which is farther away than ever.
Could the house be receding? Or is the backyard getting longer?
The house is now only a little dot in the distance. Ruth looks down at her brothers again and gets ready to jump, but the shrill ringing sound wakes her up.

• • •

She was back in the reading room, and although her heart was still pounding, she felt a wave of relief. Here she was, back in her perfect house. Seeing the boys in the shed had only been a dream.

“That will be the girls at the door, Ruthie,” her mother called. “Why don't you go and welcome them?”

“Okay,” Ruth called back. “Just be a minute.”

It was only a dream! Wasn't it? But it had felt so real.

Another shrill ring of the doorbell jolted Ruth from her reverie.

“Ruthie!” An irritated note had entered her mother's voice. “Get the door, please.”

“Okay. Coming!”