Upon reaching the attic, Poppy was disappointed to find it was as crowded as the rest of the house. Even so, she found her old can exactly where it had been and not looking very much different. She gave it a hard rap. It sounded as solid as ever. Heart swelling, she was just about to climb in when a sleepy young mouse, roused by the sound of Poppy’s steps, popped up out of the chimney.
“Oh!” cried a startled Poppy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”
“That’s all right,” said the sleepy mouse. “Who are you? Did you want me?”
“No . . . it’s just . . . I . . . this used to be my own room.”
The young mouse grew wide-eyed. “But—you’re Poppy, aren’t you?”
Poppy nodded.
“Was this your space?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” said the mouse, jumping up. “It was empty. But if you’d like—”
“No, no, that’s all right,” said Poppy, backing away in haste. “It’s not mine anymore. It’s yours.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’m . . . honored to have it,” called the young mouse as Poppy hurried away.
Feeling annoyed to have found the young mouse in her old room, but even more annoyed that she was annoyed, a tear coursed down Poppy’s cheek. “Silly mouse!” she scolded herself. “It’s not your room! You left it a long time ago!” She sniffed, wiped the tear away, and then began to giggle. “Poppy, decide who you are!”
The main room was teeming with chattering mice. To escape the noise and chaos, Poppy went out to the back steps. It was just as crowded, but when the mice saw the newcomer was Poppy, they shyly withdrew. Poppy made no protest.
It was twilight. From the top of the back steps, Poppy could just see the edge of Dimwood Forest, like a distant curtain. Above it a half moon was rising. Thoughts of Rye and the children bedding down around the snag for the night filled her; she missed them terribly. Yet here she was at Gray House, quite convinced nothing could be done to save it.
“I wondered if you’d be out here,” came a voice.
Poppy turned. It was her cousin Basil. “Can I join you?” he asked.
“Please,” said Poppy. “I’m really glad to see you.”
“Brought you some seeds,” he said, offering Poppy a double paw of wheat berries.
“Thank you. I haven’t eaten all day.”
For a while the two sat side by side in silence, nibbling the seeds.
“Basil,” said Poppy after a while, “have you noticed? When you’re young, you don’t want to be young. Then, when you’re older, you don’t want to be old. But I guess it doesn’t matter what we want: we’re always getting older.”
“Oh my,” said Basil, “you are low.”
“A bit.”
Neither of them spoke for a while, until Poppy said, “Thank you.”
“For what? I haven’t said anything.”
“Exactly,” said Poppy. “Among the many things I’ve learned to love about Dimwood are its silent moments. Silence fills me. I don’t know how I ever lived here. It’s so crowded. And noisy.”
“Gray House certainly isn’t quiet,” agreed Basil. “With so many living here, there really is no privacy. Some of us think it might not be so bad if this old house did come down. We need a change. Problem is, no one knows how to bring it about.”
“Basil,” said Poppy, “everybody seems to think I can come up with a way to deal with the bulldozer.”
“You can’t, can you?”
“I doubt it,” said Poppy.
“We better do something before it happens,” said Basil. “I don’t think we have much time.”
“Basil,” said Poppy after a while, “why do you think our families are so hard?”
“Can’t say.”
“Maybe,” said Poppy, “it’s because they seem easy. It’s like in the forest, where there are these game trails. It’s much easier to follow one than to make a path of your own—but they don’t always take you where you want to go, and after a while they vanish. And there you are . . . on your own anyway.”
The two cousins spent most of the night talking quietly, catching up on family gossip: sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, children, and spouses as well as shared friends. And when Basil finally left her, there were affectionate promises of more visits.
Finally a tired Poppy slept quite comfortably on the back steps. She didn’t wake until she heard Lilly’s voice cry, “Poppy! A human has just arrived! He’s heading for the bulldozer!”
CHAPTER 26
The Derrida Deconstruction Co.
POPPY JUMPED UP. With Lilly by her side, she rushed through the deserted house. The porch was filled with mice peering through the lopsided pales of the porch fence. Others were on the steps, so densely packed, a few tumbled to the ground below. The squeaking and squealing was high pitched and shrill. All were staring in one direction, toward the old tar road. Poppy squeezed through and looked for herself. There, parked on the road, was a battered green pickup truck. But on the side door was a boldly lettered sign:
THE DERRIDA
DECONSTRUCTION CO.
AMPERVILLE
A man sat in the cab, staring at Gray House. As Poppy watched, he stepped out. He was a large man, with a large stomach, gray hair, and a withered face. He was wearing tan overalls, heavy work boots, and a peaked cap with the word Amps on it. For a while the man simply stood by his truck and gazed at Gray House. Then, after
