“Whatever.”
“Do you think your friends can . . . appreciate it?”
“’Course they can.”
Foglight blushed with pleasure. “When will the opening take place?”
“If we can scrub the place up, like, in a few days.”
“I would be . . . honored,” Foglight said with great dignity. “But I do need to make some revisions.” She hurried away to fetch her work.
Even as Clutch continued to spread the news, Silversides, having left the girl’s house behind her, was moving toward Mouse Town. She had no particular plan of action in mind. Rather, she felt a random search might be productive. Maybe she would be lucky for once. The world owed her some good fortune.
For hours she slunk about Amperville, slipping silently from street to street, sliding around corners and by forsaken buildings. A cloud-shrouded moon made the world seem more full of shadows than substance.
Padding along silently, Silversides paused occasionally to sniff the wind or to peer into a particularly dark place. Suddenly she caught a distinct whiff of fur, crumbs, cheese, and little paws. Mice! Their smell never failed to arouse her disgust and anger.
Trying to locate exactly where the odor was coming from, the cat moved to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. All the while she listened intently, ears swiveling, trying to pick up the slightest clue.
She padded silently forward. As the smell grew stronger, Silversides paused and scrutinized the area. The street she’d come to had once been a thriving business strip. Now it was abandoned. There was an empty grocery store. A stationery and toy shop. A restaurant. A bookstore. A pharmacy. All were in varying stages of decay. Not one revealed the slightest sign of life. Some had their front glass broken or cracked. A few lacked doors.
Silversides inhaled deeply. The smell of mouse was so strong, she was certain it was coming from more than one mouse. She sniffed again. Yes, there were two, perhaps three mice. Perhaps she had uncovered a major mouse nest.
She examined the street in all directions but still saw nothing suspicious. Leaping upon a high windowsill, she achieved an excellent view of the entire street. There she crouched and waited.
Half an hour later her patience was rewarded. Along the far side of the street, against one of the deserted buildings she detected movement. Something was creeping along close to the building. Silversides opened her eyes very wide and watched.
She saw two mice moving along by starts and stops.
Silversides was about to leap down and grab them when at the last moment she held herself back. Her instincts told her that there was more here than mere stink. She decided to watch the mice and see what happened.
The two mice came to a stop in front of one of the deserted stores. Its name was painted on the window in once-bright letters:
THE LAST INDEPENDENT BOOKSTORE
Silversides heard the two mice squeaking to each other, but all she could make out was the phrase, “She said to leave our instruments home for now.” The next moment they popped into a hole and vanished from sight.
For a moment Silversides regretted not having acted. Perhaps these were the only mice involved. “No,” she murmured, “have faith in yourself, cat. You smelled something more. Be patient.”
When two more mice appeared, Silversides had the satisfaction of knowing that she had made the right decision. These two new ones were hurrying along the base of a dark wall. One, a rather fat mouse, was chattering with great excitement, so loudly Silversides caught some of the words: “. . . a whole new trend . . . a turning point . . . a revolution . . .”
The two mice paused before the bookstore door, then disappeared into the same hole the others had taken.
“My, my,” Silversides murmured to herself. “Something is happening here, something big.” She stretched her legs with anticipatory pleasure.
As she waited and watched, more and more mice appeared and made their way into the store. They came by ones, twos, and threes. Silversides watched them all with growing excitement.
Then for a long time, no more mice appeared.
Silversides was content. “If they go in, they’ll come out,” she told herself.
Folding her front paws beneath her chest, she settled in for the wait.
CHAPTER 20
The Great Cleanup
IT WAS TWO O’CLOCK in the morning when Lugnut and Dipstick arrived at the bookstore.
“Hey, dude,” Lugnut said to Ragweed, “we’re here to be near!”
“Cool!” Ragweed said by way of welcome.
“Who’s the pale one?” Dipstick whispered into Ragweed’s ear.
“His name is Blinker. A friend of mine and . . . Clutch’s.” He made formal introductions.
Blinker held back shyly, preferring to look on.
Ragweed asked the two musicians to start clearing the main floor of bits and scraps. They set to with gusto, dragging and hauling.
Windshield and Foglight were the next to arrive. Right away Windshield took Ragweed aside and told him how important it was that this new club was being created. As he went on, Ragweed tried to be patient. “Mr. Windshield,” he finally interrupted, “like, I have to work.”
“Of course!” Windshield exclaimed. “Work lies at the very heart of the mouse experience. It makes mice noble, even as it creates a common bond with all other mice.”
“Like, what we need,” Ragweed explained, “is some kind of mural on that wall. Know what I’m saying? Should be really sweet. Think you could do it?”
Windshield’s eyes seemed to glow with fire. “What about something that expresses the total mouse experience from the dawn of existence to the present day?”
“Whatever,” Ragweed agreed.
“Then I’m the mouse for you,” Windshield proclaimed. “What’s more, you, sir, may be the first to know, I intend to make it my masterpiece!”
Over the next few hours almost a hundred mice arrived. Virtually all slipped in silently through the front door, found their way to Ragweed, and murmured, “Like, Clutch sent me, dude. I want to, you know, help.”
Ragweed set them all to different tasks.
It was not long before the entire store was teeming with busy mice.
As for Windshield, he was staring at a blank
