Clutch grinned.
“What’s so funny?”
“The way you’re talking, dude. Sweet. You got it down right. I mean, this golden guy is one fast learner,” she said to Blinker.
Though pleased, Ragweed said only, “I mean it, Clutch. What’s the point of staying? Like, sooner or later, I’m going to get totally wasted.”
Clutch gave a thoughtful pull to her earring. “Hey, mouse, no one’s saying anybody has to be a hero. But you don’t want your tail leading the way, do you? I mean, lots of mice find city life too biggums. There are other places in the world. Except I bet you anything there’s, like, danger everywhere. Being new here, you just notice it more. I mean, no one wants dudes telling them how to live, except you have to plant your head somewhere, right? Put it this way, dude: Being a mouse ain’t easy anywhere. But hey, dude, if you want to nuzzle off, like, that’s tight with me. Or whatever.”
Ragweed, stung by Clutch’s words, stared at her but said nothing.
Blinker, however, clapped his paws. “Why, that’s . . . that’s a wonderful philosophy!” he enthused. “Defend yourself or nuzzle off. I need to keep that in mind. You see, most of what I know is from books. But you—both of you—have truly lived. I’m so impressed. Thank you for saving me with your inspirational words.”
Grinning, Clutch held out her paw. “Hit it, dude!” she cried.
Laughing, Blinker complied. Ragweed had not thought the white mouse capable of such emotion.
Clutch took Blinker off to one side, where they ate some crumbs. There she talked a great deal, telling stories about her life and the lives of her friends. Blinker listened with wide-eyed fascination, occasionally breaking in to say things like “Truly remarkable! Extraordinary! I am so impressed! It’s a wonderful privilege to have met you.” His praise made Clutch beam and talk even more.
In quite another mood, Ragweed kept to himself across the room. The more he reflected on Clutch’s words, the more he had to admit she was right. Being a mouse meant you did always have to work extra hard to exist. It was the price of being small. That wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he had left his family to see the world, but it was true.
The young mouse sighed. The truth was, though he had not done much so far, he’d gained a few things. There was his new friend Clutch. She was special. For sure, he would never have met such a mouse if he’d hung around the Brook, although it now made him uncomfortable that she was so taken with Blinker.
There were all the things he had seen, too, both from the train and in Amperville. Yes, he had experienced some amazing things.
And yet, what troubled him about Amperville was that all the mice thought nothing could be done about F.E.A.R. Life might be dangerous everywhere, but country mouse or city mouse, that wasn’t his style.
“If there were only some way . . .” he mused, staring up through the windows of the car at the sky.
Suddenly he heard Clutch say, “Hey, dude, what’s up? You’ve got, like, a weird look on your face.”
“Clutch,” Ragweed announced, “I’ve made up my mind.”
“Yeah? Cool. About what?”
“I’m going to crib here a while. But you know what I’m going to do?”
“What?”
“I’m going to deal with F.E.A.R.”
Clutch started. “Take on F.E.A.R?” she cried. “Are you, like, totally out of your mind?”
“Maybe I am,” Ragweed replied with a grin. “But, dude, a mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.”
CHAPTER 17
Silversides
“THAT WAS YOUR GOLDEN mouse again, wasn’t it?” Graybar asked a seething Silversides. The two cats were still sitting beside Clutch’s old Ford.
“Yes,” Silversides answered curtly. She was trembling with fury.
“And it’s about the third time he’s interfered with you, isn’t it?” Graybar prodded.
“Yes.”
“Hey, maybe you’re getting too old for this,” Graybar said.
“I’ll never be too old to kill a mouse,” Silversides snapped.
The cat continued to stare at Clutch’s entryway in silence.
“I know whose place this is,” Graybar said.
Silversides looked around.
“A mouse named Clutch. Sassy as they come. She skateboards. And she dyes her head different colors.”
Silversides turned quickly. “Green?”
“I think so. I’ll bet she’s the one who got in your face at the club.”
Silversides, who was sure of it, said nothing.
Graybar said, “Hey, speaking of colors, was that a white mouse I saw?”
Silversides grunted.
“Know anything about him?” Graybar asked.
“No,” Silversides answered.
“Suit yourself,” Graybar said.
Silversides started off. Graybar limped along by her side. “That golden mouse,” he said with something of a sneer, “he’s the one who keeps tugging your tail, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” Silversides admitted. “I’ll think of something.”
“We could have staked out Clutch’s place,” Graybar suggested. “Except there’s bound to be more than one way out of that old car. Mice are tricky that way. You can’t ever trust them to do what they should do.”
Silversides grunted again.
“Hey, you want some dinner?” Graybar asked. “Got a couple of fish heads no more than three days old. A good meal will cheer you up.”
“No, thank you,” Silversides said. “I’m going home.” Even as she spoke she remembered that the girl had said she could not return home until she brought Blinker back—dead or alive. Her teeth chattered with frustration.
“What’s the matter now?” Graybar asked.
“Nothing,” Silversides insisted. “I’ll see you later,” she said and stalked away.
Exasperated and angry, feeling that the whole world was against her, Silversides roamed the city. Even so, she soon found herself standing in front of her own house. She supposed she could sneak in through her flap and the girl would never notice. She was probably in school anyway.
Eager to get back to her sheepskin and get some sleep, Silversides went to the back of the house and butted her head against her cat door. To her astonishment it opened only an inch, a space
