“I’m trying,” the white mouse replied faintly.
“You ready?” Ragweed asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Like, when I say go, dude, jump to the other side. We need to do it together.”
“I understand,” Blinker said.
“Here we go.” Taking a deep breath, Ragweed began to count, “One . . . two . . . three! Like, jump!”
At the word the two mice leaped. With a lurch, the bottle began to roll down the side of the junk pile. Unable to stay on his feet, a suddenly helpless Ragweed tumbled head over heels. Blinker, who was used to the exercise wheel in his cage, ran with the bottle’s spin. Even so, both mice received a complete soaking.
The bottle came down on the side where Graybar was waiting. Startled, he scampered away.
Inside the rolling bottle, Ragweed continued to turn somersaults, while a panicky Blinker kept running in place. When the bottle finally reached level ground, it continued to roll—thanks to Blinker’s efforts—but now it began to spin, too. Unable to keep to his feet, the white mouse slipped. Blinker and Ragweed were hurled about at random, drenched in the sticky soda, until gradually the bottle came to a stop.
“Where are we?” a groggy Blinker asked.
After allowing his head to settle, Ragweed bent to peer through the neck of the bottle. “Cool!” he announced. “Like, I can see the hole in Clutch’s car. We’re pointing right at it. It’s no more than a few feet away. And no cats in sight. Killer easy. Mouse, you did awesome.”
“I did?” Blinker said.
“Staying on your feet and running. Gave us some extra energy. Tight. Where’d you learn that trick?”
“I run a wheel a lot.”
“A wheel?”
Blinker explained how the wheel in his cage worked.
“Weird. Anyway, the rest should be sweet. Let’s get out of here. You first. Then I’ll come.”
“What if the cats see me?”
“If it gets too bad, like, forget me. Take care of yourself. Go for Clutch’s nest.”
“I wish I had never left my room,” Blinker murmured.
“We’ve got to keep going, dude.”
“I’ll try,” Blinker said dubiously.
“Hang in there,” Ragweed said by way of encouragement.
“Okay,” Blinker whispered. He squeezed through the bottle’s neck. Once out he turned back and called softly, “Everything is all right. They’re here, but they’re still watching the garbage pile.”
“Cool,” Ragweed returned from inside the bottle. Shaking his rear legs free of the brown liquid, he slipped into the neck of the bottle and wiggled forward. The moment he did, he knew he’d made a bad mistake: He’d forgotten to stretch his front paws before him. Now they were pinned uselessly to his sides. Fortunately, his wet, slippery fur made his passage possible. By wiggling, twisting, and squirming, he managed to move forward until he finally poked his head out of the bottle top.
Blinker was waiting nervously. “Hurry,” he whispered.
“I’m trying, dude, I’m trying,” Ragweed replied, keeping his voice low. The next moment he stopped moving.
“What’s the matter?” the white mouse whispered.
“Blinker,” Ragweed said, panic edging into his voice for the first time, “I’m stuck. I can’t move. You’ve got to help me. Pull me out.”
Blinker started to reach for Ragweed’s paws, which were not there. “But . . . what shall I hold on to?” he cried. Jittery, he spoke loudly.
“My ears!” Ragweed cried. “Grab my ears!”
“But I’ll hurt you,” Blinker stammered.
Behind them, Silversides and Graybar meowed.
“The cats have seen us!” Ragweed yelled at Blinker. “Get me out of here! They’ll bite my head off!”
“I’ll hurt you,” Blinker squealed.
“Don’t worry about hurting me!” Ragweed screamed. “It’s my life I’m worried about.”
The cats were drawing closer.
Blinker grasped Ragweed’s ears and began to pull. Heels dug in, he leaned back and pulled and pulled again. Slowly, painfully, Ragweed began to slip out. “More!” he shouted, though his ears hurt awfully.
With a sudden pop Ragweed burst out of the bottle. He came out so suddenly, Blinker tumbled backwards. As for Ragweed, he flew over Blinker, landing hard but not far from Clutch’s door.
By this time the cats were sprinting toward them.
Ragweed leaped to his feet. “Run!” he shouted and hurled himself against Clutch’s entryway. It would not budge. Though he banged and banged on the wood it remained stuck. Then he remembered what Clutch had told him, and he pounded the upper right section. The wood fell in. Ragweed followed. The second he landed, he jumped up and turned around.
With the two cats right behind him, Blinker was scrambling to get to the hole.
Ragweed dashed out, grabbed the white mouse by a paw, and dragged him inside, then flung the wood over the entryway—right in the cats’ faces.
“Hey, dude, you do make an excellent entrance,” said a voice behind them.
CHAPTER 16
Some Ideas
“WHAT’S UP?” CLUTCH ASKED LAZILY, not bothering to suppress a yawn. “I just got back, saw you weren’t here, and went back to sleep.”
“Silversides,” Ragweed managed to say while gasping for breath. “And Graybar.”
“Hey, what else is new?” Clutch replied casually. She gestured toward Blinker. “Who’s the pale dude?”
“Oh, right,” Ragweed said, rubbing his ears to take away the pain he still felt. “This is Blinker. Blinker, like, this is Clutch.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Blinker murmured.
“Likewise,” Clutch returned. “Hey, dude,” she said to Blinker, “like, you’ve got killer fur.”
“Thank you,” Blinker said, blushing through his whiteness.
“Is it real?” Clutch asked.
“Real?”
“Or is it, you know, like, dyed?”
“I’m afraid it’s the way I am,” Blinker replied apologetically. “I . . . like the green fur on your head. And your earring.”
“The head is dyed. The earring’s totally plastic.”
“They are very nice,” Blinker said.
“Clutch,” Ragweed said, “Blinker lives in Silversides’s nest.”
Clutch’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m afraid so,” Blinker admitted.
“What’s the deal?”
“Tell her your story,” Ragweed prompted.
Clutch listened with great interest, occasionally murmuring “Cool” or “Awesome.” When Blinker was done, she turned to Ragweed. “How did you two dudes meet?”
“Just over by the railway tracks,” Ragweed said. “Like, I was leaving town.”
“Leaving town!” Clutch exclaimed. “How come?”
“Clutch,” Ragweed said,
