Fuzzy Fights Back Page 6

  “Miss Wills, Miss Wills!” Two students, Maya and Natalia, burst through the door.

  “What is it, girls?” asked the teacher.

  They hurried up to her desk, book bags still swinging from their shoulders. “We heard there’s going to be some big meeting on Monday about getting rid of pets,” said Maya.

  Fuzzy crossed his cage and gripped the bars. Mrs. Krumpton had followed through on her threat already? His throat went drier than a ditch digger in the Sahara Desert.

  “They can’t really do that, can they?” asked Natalia, pushing her enormous glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  “You girls are well informed.” Miss Wills raised her eyebrows. “I just heard about it myself.”

  “You won’t let them kick Fuzzy out, will you?” asked Maya.

  “It’s not right,” added Natalia. Several students who’d just walked in echoed her complaint.

  The teacher held up a palm. “I agree. It’s a terrible idea to get rid of our classroom pets, and I’ll certainly speak against it at the meeting. But the decision’s not up to me.”

  Natalia pouted. “Why not?”

  Smoothing the girl’s hair off her forehead, Miss Wills said, “Honey, in our country, the majority rules—even when we don’t like the choices it makes.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Natalia.

  Miss Wills gave a wry smile. “Tell me about it.”

  More and more kids trickled into the classroom, but Fuzzy scarcely noticed. His attention was riveted to the conversation.

  “But won’t the principal stop this from happening?” asked Malik, sitting down.

  “Mrs. Flake’s power isn’t absolute,” said the teacher. “If the whole school votes to ban pets, there’s not much she can do.”

  “So we’ve got to make sure the school votes the right way.” Maya’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not getting rid of Fuzzy without a fight.”

  “Yeah,” said Heavy-Handed Jake, joining them. “There’s got to be something we can do.”

  Fuzzy’s heart lifted at all this support from his students. But he wondered what they could actually accomplish in just a few short days.

  Miss Wills surveyed the group. “You want to do something?”

  “Yeah!” they chorused.

  “Then testify at that meeting that you like having a pet in the classroom.”

  “But can’t we do something more?” Fuzzy was surprised to see that it was Abby who’d spoken up.

  Miss Wills considered for a moment. “Well, I suppose you could try to influence the rest of the students and their parents.”

  “You mean by telling them how awesome pets are?” said Malik.

  “Or collecting signatures on a petition?” asked Abby.

  “Exactly,” said the teacher as the morning bell rang. She motioned to the students to take their seats.

  Abby nodded and obeyed, her expression thoughtful. Even though Fuzzy now knew who her mom was, he couldn’t quite picture it. The two were nothing alike. Where Mrs. Krumpton was tall, blonde, and bossy, her daughter was short and quiet with mousy-brown pigtails.

  But her heart was in the right place.

  Fuzzy hoped his plan to go home with her would succeed. Even more, he hoped it wouldn’t land her in trouble.

  All through science and English lessons, Fuzzy fussed and fidgeted. Now that cheating time was at hand, he couldn’t sit still.

  Shortly before lunch, Miss Wills told the students to put away their books and break out their number two pencils. “And now, the moment you’ve all been dreaming of,” she said. “Our history test.”

  Mixed groans and chuckles greeted her remark.

  As she stowed her textbook in her desk, Abby sighed, grimacing at the girl next to her. This didn’t give Fuzzy a lot of confidence in her test-taking abilities. But luckily, he could help with that.

  In an agony of impatience, Fuzzy only just restrained himself from chirping during the test. He climbed up and down his platform, gnawed on his block, and circled his habitat. It seemed like a month of Mondays had passed by the time Miss Wills told the kids to put down their pencils and pass their tests forward.

  As the teacher was collecting their papers, the lunch bell rang. She told the students to go on ahead to the cafeteria.

  Fuzzy watched closely while she gathered all the tests into a red folder and slipped that file into the center desk drawer. Don’t lock it, don’t lock it, he silently pleaded. And for once, his prayers were answered.

  Miss Wills headed out for her own lunch without locking anything. Her desk was left wide open to intrepid rodents.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Fuzzy shoved his platform, ball, and blocks into escape position. He didn’t know exactly how long she’d be gone, so he had to hurry.

  Unfortunately, he hurried so much that he was nearly out of the cage before he remembered his hidden answer sheet. Duh. Fuzzy pulled his whiskers, then hopped back down to retrieve the test key.

  Folding it carefully and holding the slip in his mouth, Fuzzy retraced his steps. Up and over he went, landing on the table with an oof!

  So far, so good.

  Moving as quickly as the last days of summer vacation, Fuzzy slid down to the floor and hurried across to Miss Wills’s desk. He’d already eaten up five minutes. No time to waste.

  Up he scrambled onto the chair, then the desktop. Leaning over the edge, Fuzzy slid out the center drawer. There lay the red folder, right on top.

  Just as he reached for it, something clattered against the door. He froze.

  Should he hide, or wait it out? In an agony of indecision, Fuzzy stared at the door, eyes riveted and hackles bristling.

  No further sounds followed. His hammering heartbeat gradually slowed, and Fuzzy decided that someone must have bumped the door on their way down the hall. He reached down and lifted the folder onto the desk.

  Time to—

  Too late, Fuzzy realized he’d kept the test answers in his mouth this entire time. He spat out the folded slip of paper and gasped. There were bite marks on it.

  Suffering mange mites!

  With trembling paws, Fuzzy unfolded the test key. Were the answers still readable?

  He ran down the list. Nearly all the solutions were intact, except for three that had been marred by his bite. Fuzzy checked the clock. No time to dig out the teacher’s answer sheet again. His imperfect list would have to do.

  Separating Abby’s history test from the rest, he laid it on the desktop beside his cheat sheet. Yeesh. Nearly half of the girl’s answers were wrong. Fuzzy was no brainiac, but clearly someone needed to spend less time with video games and more time with textbooks.

  Snagging a pencil from the mug, he erased Abby’s first mistake, filling in the correct answer.

  Fuzzy gasped again.

  His writing was in red. He’d grabbed the wrong pencil!

  Erasing furiously, Fuzzy rewrote the answer with a regular number two pencil. This time, it looked right. He blew out a sigh. This cheating stuff was harder than it looked.

  Fuzzy worked his way down Abby’s test sheet, laboriously erasing and correcting as he went. The minutes ticked past, as fast as a falcon’s dive. By the time Fuzzy had finished up, only five minutes remained in lunch period.

  After a last quick check of his answers, Fuzzy blew away the eraser shavings and slipped Abby’s test into the red folder. Back into the drawer it went.

  Well, that’s that, he thought, preparing to jump down onto the seat. But Fuzzy paused with one paw dangling in space. He couldn’t squelch the nagging feeling that he’d overlooked something.

  But what?

  Scanning the desktop one last time, Fuzzy gave a wheek! His cheat sheet! There it lay, right out in plain sight where Miss Wills was sure to spot it.

  Careless guinea pig! That would be all he—or Abby—needed, for the teacher to discover the cheat sheet. Fuzzy snatched up the slip of paper, tucked it into his cheek, and scrambled down to the floor.

&nbs
p; Whew. As he crossed the room and scaled the table that held his habitat, Fuzzy began to relax. He’d gotten away with it. And then, just as he was scaling his cage wall, Fuzzy heard something: the clatter of a key in the lock!

  Adrenaline blasted through his veins. With a burst of speed, he scrambled the rest of the way up and flopped over the cage wall onto his platform.

  Safe.

  The door swung open. In strolled Miss Wills with Maya by her side. The teacher glanced his way. “Were your ears burning, big guy? We were just talking about you.”

  “Hey, what’s that in his mouth?” asked Maya.

  Fuzzy jumped.

  Oops. He’d forgotten to hide the evidence!

  Burning with guilt, Fuzzy chew-chew-chewed up the cheat sheet. The closer Maya and Miss Wills came, the faster he chomped. By the time they reached Fuzzy’s habitat, the last of the paper had vanished.

  Gulp.

  Fuzzy gazed up at them with as much innocence as he could muster. It wasn’t much.

  Miss Wills studied him with her head at an angle. “Well, whatever it was, it’s in his belly now.”

  “I just hope it doesn’t disagree with him,” said Maya.

  Fuzzy nearly barfed the pulpy paper back out. The whole idea of cheating disagreed with him. But sometimes a rodent’s gotta do what a rodent’s gotta do.

  Luckily, Miss Wills and Maya walked away without noticing that Fuzzy had set up his cage for escape. He clambered down to the pine shavings and quietly pushed apart his ball and blocks.

  That had been way too close for comfort. It would take a long nap and a short snack before Fuzzy felt like himself again.

  * * *

  In the clubhouse after school, the other pets crowded around, peppering Fuzzy with questions.

  “Did you find Abby’s test?” asked Mistletoe.

  “Did anyone catch ya?” asked Vinnie.

  “How’s the life of crime, you cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater?” Igor sneered.

  Holding up his palms, Fuzzy said, “Whoa, slow down!”

  Cinnabun rested her paw on his shoulder. “Mission accomplished, Brother Fuzzy?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  As his friends surrounded him, Fuzzy filled them in on his eventful morning, on the upcoming school meeting, and on his first experience as a cheater. When he finished, the others still had concerns.

  “But suppose somebody gets a better grade than Abby?” asked Mistletoe. “What then?”

  With a shrug, Fuzzy said, “I guess we try to figure out a plan B.”

  “We better plan fast if the meeting is Monday,” said Luther.

  Mistletoe shook her head. “I still can’t believe the kids and teachers might really kick us out. After all we’ve meant to them? So sad.”

  “Some of them are definitely on our side,” said Fuzzy. “My students are planning to testify for us.”

  Vinnie grinned. “And somebody’s been putting up pro-pet posters. We saw two of ’em in the office when we searched yesterday.”

  “And I ssspotted one in the hallway,” said Luther. “Mysterious benefactors, baby.”

  Sassafras hopped from foot to foot. “Never mind that—when will we know Abby’s grade? The suspense is killing me!”

  “By Thursday afternoon,” said Fuzzy. “Or Friday morning at the latest. That’s when Miss Wills usually announces the week’s top student.”

  Igor clasped a paw to his chest. “Ugh. I’m getting indigestion from waiting.”

  “Sure that’s not from eating?” said Vinnie. “I noticed those stale Girl Scout Cookies went missing.”

  The iguana stuck out his tongue at him.

  Jumping up onto the presidential podium, Cinnabun raised her paws. “Settle down, y’all. I’ve got the perfect way to pass the time.”

  “What, tiddlywinks?” scoffed Vinnie, under his breath.

  “Cuteness lessons,” said the rabbit, and she clasped her paws together adorably.

  “Eh?” said Luther.

  “Yay!” said Mistletoe.

  “No way,” said Fuzzy.

  The rabbit surveyed the group. “If Brother Fuzzy is fixin’ to charm our dear Mrs. Krumpton into changing her mind, he’ll need a little help.”

  “He’ll need a lot of help,” said Igor.

  Vinnie squinted skeptically. “And who’s gonna lead this charm school?”

  “Why, moi, of course,” said Cinnabun.

  Fuzzy slumped, shaking his head. When the rabbit got on a cuteness kick, not even the US Marines, King Kong, and the Green Bay Packers together could stop her.

  Mistletoe applauded. “Fantabulous idea!”

  Igor and Vinnie traded a look. “This oughta be rich,” Vinnie muttered.

  “And I trust you’ll do the exercises too, for solidarity,” said Cinnabun.

  The rat’s eyes popped. “But—”

  “Bless your heart, Brother Vinnie!” said Cinnabun. “And all of y’all will take part too?”

  The other pets bobbed their heads. What else could they do?

  “Then let’s begin,” said Cinnabun. “Lesson Number One: Bambi Eyes.”

  Igor frowned. “What’s that?”

  Dimples sprouted on the rabbit’s cheeks. “Why, only the most basic tool in the cuteness toolbox. Say, for example, you accidentally mess in your human’s bed or break some treasured knickknack. They pitch a hissy fit. What do you do?”

  “Hide in my shell?” said Marta.

  “Stare ’em down,” said Luther.

  “Run,” said Mistletoe.

  Indulgently, Cinnabun shook her head. “Bless your pea-pickin’ hearts. No, no, and no. You do … this.” She ducked her head momentarily and looked up again, her caramel eyes huge, dewy, and almost painfully cute. When she batted them, her audience melted.

  “Awww,” said most of the pets in the room. Even Vinnie was struck dumb. Fuzzy had to admit, Cinnabun knew adorable like Inuits know snow.

  “Simple, but powerful,” said the rabbit, returning to her normal expression (which was still pretty darned cute). “Now you, Brother Fuzzy.”

  Heaving a sigh, Fuzzy tried to follow her example. He dropped his head, then whipped it up fast, eyes open wide.

  “Were you fixin’ to act scared?” said Cinnabun.

  Vinnie snorted. “Looks like he just heard there’s a hay shortage.”

  “Oh, ha-ha,” said Fuzzy.

  “Try again,” said Cinnabun. “Only this time, make your eyes softer than a baby duck’s belly. Brother Vinnie, why don’t you join him?”

  “Me?” said the rat.

  “Why, yes.”

  Fuzzy and Vinnie tried the move, with varying degrees of success.

  “Brother Vinnie, your eyes tell me you’re sleepy,” said the rabbit. “Try adding some more sugar to your gaze.” She surveyed the rest of the group. “All of y’all, join in, now.”

  Fuzzy sent up a silent prayer and got ready to try Bambi Eyes again. The things I do for the good of this club, he thought.

  When you’re waiting to hear about something that will affect your whole life, every minute seems like a week, and every hour like a year. By the time Miss Wills made her announcement on Friday morning, Fuzzy felt old enough to be his own great-grandfather.

  He sat up straight, electrified, when at last he heard Miss Wills say, “Time to announce the top student of the week. Attention, everyone!”

  The boys and girls of 5-B leaned forward, focusing on her words.

  “Our newest student-of-the-week winner has never won before,” said the teacher. “And I’m very proud of her for how much she’s improved.”

  Her? thought Fuzzy. That’s promising.

  “She’ll get to enjoy two whole days of pet-sitting our class mascot, Fuzzy,” said Miss Wills, a smile tugging the corners of her lips. “And now, drumroll, please!”

  All the students pounded their hands on their thighs, and the classroom echoed with, Tuppa-tuppa-tuppa-tuppa-tuppa!

  “The top student for this week is
… Abigail Krumpton!”

  The thigh thumping turned to scattered applause. Abby’s jaw dropped, her hands flew to her face, and she fell back in her chair. She looked as stunned as a mullet that just met a mallet.

  Fuzzy knew what she was feeling, because he felt it too. Then, after the shock wore off, excitement set in: He was going home with Abby that afternoon!

  Wheek, wheek! Fuzzy popcorned, bouncing up and down like a rodent pogo stick, and stirring up miniature explosions of pine shavings.

  Kids laughed. “Hey, I think maybe Fuzzy likes the idea!” bellowed Loud Brandon.

  After the class settled down again, Miss Wills steered her students back to discussing centimeters and inches and all things measurement-related. The whole time, that wide, incredulous smile never left Abby’s face.

  Fuzzy’s heart melted for her. The poor girl had never been singled out as a good student, never had the privilege of pet-sitting him. He felt his own grin stretch wider just watching her.

  If it took a bit of creative cheating to bring that smile to her face, Fuzzy wasn’t at all sorry. (Well, maybe a teensy bit, but he tried to ignore it.) They would have great fun together, he and Abby. Moreover, Mrs. Krumpton would see that having a pet was a good thing, something to be encouraged, not denied.

  At lunchtime, Abby asked Miss Wills for permission to take a photo of Fuzzy. “It’s for my testimony on Monday,” she said.

  “I’m sure he won’t mind,” said the teacher.

  Fuzzy happily posed for a shot. Heck, he’d wear a Little Bo-Peep outfit and dance the mambo if she’d asked, so thrilled and relieved was he that the pets’ plan was moving forward.

  The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough for Fuzzy. After a short forever, the final bell rang, and Miss Wills dismissed her students for the weekend. Working with Abby, she transferred Fuzzy to his pet carrier. She handed the girl a bag full of instructions, food, and a few toys.

  Before letting Abby go, Miss Wills asked, “Now, your mother knows about this, right? And she approves?”

  “Oh, um, absolutely,” said Abby. “Mom is totally up for it.”

  “But I thought she wasn’t that crazy about pets,” said Miss Wills.

  Abby’s smile looked a little strained. “Uh, just in the classroom,” she said. “Mom’s fine with pets at home.”