New skateboard in paw, Clutch led her friends out of her car nest through a long, narrow tube. Outside it was already dark. The moon was low. Only a few stars were out.
After a careful check to make sure the way was safe, Clutch dropped her board and pushed off.
“What is that?” Blinker cried, running along by Clutch’s side.
“My wheels, dude. A skateboard.”
“It looks very exciting,” the white mouse said. “Do . . . do you think you could teach me to do that?”
“Nothing to it, dude,” Clutch said.
“I would like that,” Blinker murmured.
Though Ragweed said nothing, he wished he had thought of asking Clutch for lessons.
The three mice zigzagged across town. The streets and alleys had no sign of cats, humans, or even other mice. The only sound was the occasional crumpled aluminum can, caught in a wisp of wind, grating across the pavement like a broken rattle.
After some fifteen minutes of hard scampering and skateboarding, Clutch said, “Here we are.”
They had entered a narrow alley. The only light came from a few flickering street lamps. A rusty garbage can overflowing with old, torn books dominated the way. On the back of the building was a window with a screen shielding cracked glass. A large, rusty padlock held a steel door shut.
“How do we get in?” Ragweed asked.
Clutch said, “There used to be a hole by this door.”
After poking about the door frame, she called, “Sweet! It’s still here.” She propped her skateboard against the outside wall and dove into the hole. Blinker and Ragweed followed.
The three mice found themselves in a gloomy hallway littered with paper and heaps of broken-backed books. The floor was filthy. The walls were covered with tattered posters. Mounted low on the wall was a large wheel. Hanging beneath the wheel was a massive coil that to Ragweed’s eyes looked like a snake. He froze.
“What’s that?” he asked Clutch nervously.
“Not sure,” she replied.
Blinker considered it. “I saw one of them in a book,” he said. “It’s called a hose, and it shoots water. Humans use it for putting out fires.”
“Hey, this dude knows sweet stuff,” Clutch said.
Blinker grinned shyly.
The mice moved forward and stood upon the threshold of a large room. On three walls were shelves, some of which contained a few books. More volumes were on the floor. Virtually all were broken. The whole area was littered with paper and broken boxes. The wooden floor was filthy.
Clutch gazed around. “Like, what a mess,” she said.
“Yeah,” Ragweed said, “but if we can clean it up, do you think it’s usable?”
Clutch gazed about. “Never heard of a club this large. You could fit the whole town’s mouse population in here. But, the main thing is, we’d have to work it so cats can’t get in. Ever. Know what I’m saying? It’s either the best or worst ever.”
“There were screens on that back window,” Ragweed pointed out. “That entry hole was too small for them, and the back door is locked.”
Clutch made her way to the front of the store and examined the main door. It was shut tight. “There’s another hole up here,” she called. “Too small for cats. Just right for mice.”
The front wall of the store was mostly taken up by a large plate-glass window. Though it too was cracked, it had no holes.
On the glass were painted letters. Ragweed read them out loud.
“What’s that mean?” he asked, unable to make sense of it.
Blinker stared hard at the letters.
Clutch, more interested in the room, turned back to examine the space.
“Well, what do you think, dude?” Ragweed asked her.
“Be different,” Clutch said, taking in the huge space with her eyes. “Needs an awesome amount of work. But it’s cool. Just better be as tight as your tail is to your bod.”
“Could we get other mice to help?” Ragweed asked.
“No problem,” Clutch said. “I got zillions of pals. They’ll help. Hey, what are we going to call this place?”
“Beats me,” Ragweed said.
“I’ve figured out what those letters on the front window mean,” Blinker announced. “We are looking at it backwards. It says, ‘The Last Independent Bookstore.’”
“Decent,” Ragweed said. “Maybe we should call this the Independent Club.”
“Cool,” Clutch said.
“In books,” Blinker said shyly, “the sophisticated would call it Café Independent.”
“I’m amped,” Clutch exclaimed. “I mean, killer cool!”
“Then Café Independent it is,” Ragweed said, seeing Clutch’s enthusiasm. All three mice slapped their paws in agreement.
CHAPTER 19
A Coming Together
LEAVING RAGWEED AND BLINKER to begin the cleanup, Clutch tore off on her skateboard to spread the news about the club. To each mouse she met her message was clear: “We’re like, making a cool new club. Really sweet. Know what I’m saying? But we need some dudes to set it straight. Or whatever.”
Lugnut and Dipstick were the first mice she informed. The two musicians reacted with great enthusiasm and promised to go to the abandoned bookstore immediately.
“Keep your eyes waxed for cats, dudes!” Clutch cried after them.
Clutch next informed her parents about the plan. Windshield, who was still working on the painting he’d intended for Ragweed, was particularly excited.
“Starting this new club,” he enthused, “suggests that we mice have reached a new level of major turning points. It means mice are beginning to see themselves as a community. What has happened will affect many mice. These mice will affect still more mice. The movement will spread! The whole world of mice is about to change!”
“Way to go, Windy,” Clutch said, trying to suppress a smile. “And hey, dude, Ragweed wants you to paint a mural on one of the walls.”
“This is extraordinary!” Windshield cried, all but swooning with excitement. “This is spectacular! The ultimate turning point! Mice in the service of art. Art in the service of mice! It’s . . . the revolution!” With that he rushed off to gather his painting supplies.
“And, Ma,” Clutch said to Foglight, “Ragweed particularly mentioned you. Like, he was hoping you would do a reading of your work at our opening.”
“From my . . . Cheese of Grass?”
“Hey, whatever.”
“Clutch,” Foglight said somberly, “you
