The Orphan and the Mouse (24 page)

In the doorway, Miss Ragone looked back and asked, “Are you coming, Carolyn?”

Still caught up in the story, Caro dawdled. “Yes, ma'am. Jimmy will save me a seat.”

Caro finished straightening her papers and put her pencils in their box before standing up and starting for the door. On her way, she spotted something tiny, soft, and gray at the base of the back wall of the classroom—a mouse sitting up on its haunches, paws folded neatly over its heart. The paws
weren't blue anymore. Even so, Caro recognized her friend's pure white whiskers and air of perfect calm.

“Mousie, how are you? Climb up now so we can talk. We don't have long. Miss Ragone usually eats at her desk.” Caro knelt and extended her palm. The mouse stepped aboard. “Were you listening to the stuff about the mice in the walls? Now, don't you worry. The other kids think it's like a fairy tale, and Jimmy and I—we'll never say different.”

For a moment, mouse and human regarded one another with all the kindness, goodwill, and curiosity available to their respective species. Neither would ever understand the other. Each believed it was worthwhile to try.

Caro started to thank her friend for everything, but when the mouse cocked its pink half-moon ear, Caro stopped to listen, too. Miss Ragone was coming back. Hastily, the girl knelt, released her friend, and raised her pinkie finger to wave. To her surprise, the mouse raised its paw in return. “Oh!” Caro gasped, delighted, and at the same moment Miss Ragone came in, carrying a lunch tray.

“Carolyn, dear,” she said, “what are you doing down there? Are you all right?”

Caro stood up and turned to face her teacher. “I'm fine, Miss Ragone. I was just saying good-bye to a friend.”

Miss Ragone frowned. “Indeed? And was it . . . one of your mice?”

“Yes,” said Caro.

Miss Ragone set down her lunch tray and spoke gently. “Carolyn, you know, don't you, that real mice are dirty and make all kinds of mischief? They're vermin is what they are, nothing like the ones in the stories you tell.”

Caro nodded. “Don't worry, Miss Ragone. I'm not crazy. I like to tell stories, is all.”

Miss Ragone looked relieved. “I'm glad to hear it. Now hurry down to lunch, dear. It's macaroni and cheese today.”

Caro grinned. “Hooray—the mice love macaroni and cheese.” Then she dashed out the door before Miss Ragone could reply.