Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry

by Lynne Jonell

  A bell clanged. There was a whoosh of air brakes and a screech of metal and then, huge and tall above the platform, the train thundered past, car after car after silver-blue car, slowing, slowing … slower still … stopped.

  Emmy caught a confused glimpse of gigantic wheels and long metal rods beneath, and a row of streamlined windows and a bright yellow number above. A door shaped like a lozenge opened, and a uniformed man jumped out and folded down a set of steps.

  “Good-bye, good-bye!” cried everyone, and Emmy was hugged and kissed and set on the steps. The conductor pulled her in, then Ana and Squippy, and bags were swung onto the train after them. Joe handed in the pet carrier last of all and stepped back.

  “All aboard!” called a voice. Emmy knelt on a plush window seat, waving through the tinted glass as the train slowly pulled away and her parents and Brian and Joe got smaller and then were gone.

  “Well!” said Squippy, from across the aisle. “Isn’t this nice? We’re on our way at last!”

  Emmy leaned against the high back of her seat and looked past Ana to Squippy. The woman had fallen asleep, glasses askew, and she was snoring lightly. A thin line of drool showed at the corner of her open mouth.

  Emmy shifted her feet. The pet carrier was an awkward size and in her way every time she tried to stretch out her legs.

  The rats had been very good, though—not a single squeak out of either one.

  “It was fun, being a rat,” said Ana suddenly. “Do you have a little jar or a plastic bag or something? I want to get some rat spit from Ratty.”

  Emmy looked at her sideways. “It’s no good by itself, you know. You can’t grow back.”

  “Maybe I won’t want to grow back.” Ana lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe I won’t like it at that place where I’m going. They don’t want me, anyway.”

  “How do you know they don’t want you?” Emmy picked at the plush seat cushions. “They’re your relatives. They might love you like crazy.”

  “Or not.” Ana lowered her voice. “Squippy doesn’t know it, but I got a look at my file, and I saw the letters they sent. They weren’t going to take me until they found out the state would pay them.”

  Emmy did not know what to say to this. “Maybe,” she said at last, “they were really poor and couldn’t afford one more mouth to feed. And when they found out they could afford it, then they did want you!”

  “Maybe. But that would be bad in another way.” Ana’s thin face suddenly looked fierce and purposeful. “I want to go to medical school someday, and that takes money.”

  This was interesting. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a doctor. Since when?”

  “Since I was stuck in that attic for years. There was a stack of old books somebody had picked up from somewhere, and I read them all. One was a medical book, and I couldn’t understand it very well, but I read it over and over and it started to make sense. Do you want to hear the twelve cranial nerves?” she asked. “I know them all. Olfactory, optic, oculomotor, trochlear—”

  She stopped abruptly as Gwenda Squipp moved in her sleep. The woman’s eyes blinked open, then shut again as she changed position. Outside the window, another little town flashed past, and Emmy found herself thinking of her own relatives. Her great-aunts might want her, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted them.

  She had their letter in her bag, but she didn’t need to read it again to be filled with dread. How long would she have to stay? A week? Two weeks? Professor Capybara had thought it would be good for Emmy to get out of town for a while—at least as long as Miss Barmy was causing problems—but Emmy felt that even one day was too long to stay with elderly ladies who sounded old-fashioned and strict.

  The steady rumble and motion of the train was soothing. Emmy closed her eyes and tried to think of the bright side. Even if her great-aunts were awful, still she could help Ratty and Sissy find their mother. And there was a river, her father had said, and a boat …

  “Schenectady, next stop,” called the conductor from the front of the car.

  Ana didn’t move. Her face was pale, and she was holding her mouth stiffly, as if trying to keep from being sick.

  “Are you okay?” Emmy asked, wondering if she should wake up Squippy.

  Ana hunched over her crossed arms. “I’m feeling really strange … sort of collapsed inside, like a balloon with no air …”

  “Can I—” Emmy began, meaning to add “help you to the bathroom,” but she never finished her sentence. For Ana’s eyes looked suddenly startled; she put a hand to her stomach and then, with no further warning, she shrank. Hidden from the other passengers by the high seat back, the four-and-a-half-foot-tall girl shriveled to four and a half inches in just under three seconds.

  Emmy stared at the doll-size girl on the seat cushion. How could Ana have shrunk? The Rat hadn’t bitten her. She had not applied rat saliva to a cut on her skin, either. She had used the Sissy-patches to grow—shouldn’t she have stayed big?

  The miniature Ana stared up at her, her eyes wide and alarmed—and then, in the space of a blink, the tiny girl shifted and changed shape and grew furry and brown. Ears turned thin and round, a long tail flicked out, and she was a rat.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no—” Emmy looked frantically around. Across the aisle, Gwenda Squipp was beginning to wake up.

  The conductor made his way down the aisle and stopped at Emmy’s row. “Schenectady!” he bellowed as a bell clanged.

  Squippy came to with a start and wiped the drool from her mouth.

  The conductor looked down on the seat cushion at the rat that was Ana, and frowned. “You’d better put that rodent into your pet carrier right away,” he told Emmy severely. “I don’t care how tame it is, you shouldn’t let an animal loose on the train. It’s against the rules. Don’t you know any better?”

  Emmy tried to speak and failed.

  “Little missy,” said the conductor sternly, “you lock that rat up this instant. Go on, now. I want to see you do it.”

  “Obey the conductor, dear,” said Gwenda Squipp, peering around his uniformed bulk.

  Emmy swallowed hard. She scooped up the brown and furry Ana and set her gently inside the carrier.

  “That’s right,” said the conductor, “latch the door. Now, isn’t this your stop?”

  Emmy nodded wordlessly.

  “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you? Here, follow me. I’ll get your suitcase and set it on the platform for you. Somebody meeting you, missy?”

  “Yes,” croaked Emmy. She staggered in the aisle as the train lurched to a halt and gazed helplessly at Squippy.

  Gwenda Squipp pulled Emmy into a firm embrace. “Don’t look so downhearted, dear. You’ll have a wonderful time with your relatives, just as Ana will with hers.” She leaned back to smile into Emmy’s face. “Where is Ana, by the way? In the bathroom?”

  “Maybe,” said Emmy, fired with a sudden idea. “Want me to check?” In the bathroom, she could take Ana out of the carrier, Sissy could kiss her twice, and Ana could walk out, full sized.

  “Certainly, dear.” Squippy glanced to the front of the car, where the conductor had opened the door to the outside, letting in a stripe of late-afternoon sun. “You’ll just have time. Ana will want to say good-bye to you, I’m sure.”

  Breathing a little easier, Emmy picked up the pet carrier and followed the conductor to the front of the car where the bathroom was. She hoped it wasn’t occupied … she set down the carrier to fumble with the lock.

  “Here, missy, I’ll take that!” The conductor plucked the pet carrier off the floor, yanked her luggage from the rack, and jumped out, setting them on the platform. “Now, then!” He held out a hand to help her down the steps.

  “But—” said Emmy.

  “No time!” said the conductor. “Should have thought of it before! You can use the restroom in the station!”

  “But I don’t need—”

  “Come on, step right out, that’s it! Trains don’t wait, not even for little girls
who have to go potty!” The man in the dark blue uniform swung Emmy out onto the platform, folded back the steps, and hopped into the train that had already begun to move.

  “I’ll tell Ana you said good-bye!” cried Squippy, waving from the door, and then it shut with a clack and the train picked up speed.

  Emmy’s knees suddenly felt weak. She dropped to the platform bench by her luggage and watched as the train disappeared in the distance. “I guess that new batch of patches isn’t as long-lasting,” she murmured over the carrier’s air vents.

  “Squippy’s going to be awfully upset when she checks that bathroom,” said Ana.

  12

  THE CROWD ON THE PLATFORM thinned, dispersed, and was gone. Emmy sat alone. “Now what?” she said aloud.

  “Now you get us out of this prison,” said the Rat, rattling at the lock.

  Emmy undid the latch and three rats tumbled out, their fur damp with sweat.

  “Maybe your great-aunts are down in the station.” Ana jumped onto the bench and shook herself. “They’re old, remember? They might not have wanted to climb all those stairs.”

  Emmy’s legs dangled, not quite touching the concrete platform. She felt small and alone and unsure of what to do next. Her aunts might be waiting in the station—in fact they probably were. But there was still the question of what to do with Ana.

  “Do you want Sissy to make you grow now?” Emmy asked doubtfully. It seemed like a bad idea, somehow, but she couldn’t think of a better one.

  Ana scampered up the back of the bench, along the top, and down again, her claws skittering merrily on the slatted seat. “Nope! I’m staying a rat.”

  Emmy stared at her. “Forever?”

  Ana shrugged her furry shoulders. “For now, anyway. What else am I going to do? Your aunts invited one girl, not two.”

  “Well, we could tell someone you got off the train—”

  “We’ll only get in trouble,” said Ana promptly. “I’ll get in trouble for leaving. You’ll get in trouble for letting me. And your parents and Squippy will never believe what really happened.”

  Emmy swung her legs. It was true. “I suppose we could prove it to them,” she said. “We could show them what happens when Ratty bites and Sissy kisses.”

  “Excuse me? No way,” said the Rat. He leaned against the bench backrest, his short forearms folded. “The minute Squippy found out, she’d want to take care of us. She’d put us in a cage—”

  “No!” Sissy gasped.

  “Oh, it would be a very nice cage. And she’d make sure we got our daily vitamins, and she’d tell us how special we were—”

  “I won’t go back in a cage for anyone!” Sissy said passionately.

  “—and she’d tell all kinds of scientists about us, because she’d want to help them, too, and then they’d start to study us and experiment on us.”

  Sissy whirled on the bench. Her tail nearly hit Ana in the face. “I’m very sorry, but Ratty’s right. And I’m not going to kiss you if you’re planning to tell Squippy about us.”

  Emmy twisted her fingers together. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t force them. And Ana was right about one thing for sure. They would both get into trouble.

  Emmy gazed at her three furry friends, standing shoulder to shoulder with their chins stubbornly in the air.

  “You can’t make us,” said Ratty, simply stating the obvious.

  “It is true, that!” squeaked a thin voice above Emmy’s head.

  Emmy whipped around, looked up, and nearly screamed. Hanging from the struts of the awning, wings neatly folded, was something brown, furry, and fanged.

  “It is I, Manlio,” said the creature, showing its sharp teeth in an oddly wide smile. “I am—how you say?—a postal bat!”

  Emmy made a stern effort to suppress a shudder. Then, getting a grip on herself, she stood on the bench and craned her neck. The bat was hanging wrong side up, its large ears pointed down. Its wings, like shut-up umbrellas, were knobby at the tips, and its body looked like a mouse with no tail.

  “How come I can understand you?” Emmy asked. “A bat isn’t a rodent.” No matter how much you might look like one, she added to herself.

  “If you are already to understanding rodent speech,” said the bat, “then you are of course also comprehending Myotis myotis.”

  “My—what?”

  “Myotis myotis,” said Ana suddenly, scampering up the back of the bench. “It’s the scientific name.” She looked at the upside-down bat, her whiskers quivering. “What does it mean?”

  “It is for meaning I am a Mouse-Eared Bat. See?” Manlio wiggled his long, pointed ears. “Even better, a Large Mouse-Eared Bat. And though some are to saying we don’t live in America, what I say is maybe they didn’t check the shipping crate from Italy quite so good like they thought, see?”

  “You came all the way from Italy in a crate?” Sissy, on the bench, stood on her hind feet as she looked up. “My name is Cecilia.”

  Manlio fluttered down, bumping blindly into the seat back before landing with a thump on the bench slats. He shaded his eyes with one wing. “Cecilia? Ah! Bellissima, such a beautiful name!”

  Sissy was too taken aback to do more than giggle.

  “I fear I cannot see you so well in the bright of sun as I wish, but already I can tell I stand before the most beautiful, the most elegante of rodents—”

  “You’re not standing at all,” interrupted the Rat. “You’re flat on your rear, Bat Boy. And that’s my sister you’re drooling over.”

  “Ah, the brother!” Manlio struggled to his feet, his wings unfolding like stretched leather on a frame. “So protective! This is good! Someone so beautiful needs such a brother!”

  Raston’s frown relaxed. He smoothed his whiskers.

  “So big, you are! So strong! So—so—”

  The Rat shifted his weight. “So handsome?” he suggested.

  “So magnifico!” cried the bat. He reached out his long-fingered wing with its claw at the first joint like a tiny thumb and shook Raston’s paw. “An honor, sir! I shall to look forward to the better acquaintance! If you have letters or packages to be delivered, sir, you must to call on Manlio!” The bat blinked rapidly. “Not in the day, though. Night is for the flying; day is for the sleeping.”

  “Why are you here when the sun is still up, then?” asked Ana curiously. She crouched on the bench’s backrest, looking down at the furry winged creature with the pug nose.

  “Of course, it is for to meet the train,” Manlio explained, waving his wings for emphasis. “Who knows who might come and need a letter delivered? Or even a package? I am very strong bat, I.” He looked through half-open eyelids at Sissy and smiled dreamily. “Very strong, very hairy. I take the parcel, I wait until evening, and then I fly, fly, to the place of delivery.” He unfolded his wings, suddenly businesslike. “And you? These great-aunts you speak of, where is the address?”

  Emmy unzipped a side pocket of her suitcase and pulled out the letter from Emmaline and Augusta Addison. She showed the return address to Manlio, who squinted and peered at it closely.

  “Ah, Cucumber Alley! It is not far at all! I would show you, only I cannot fly in the bright of sun. But no matter. If the great-aunts you do not find in the station, it is no problemo, no problemo at all. It is only one block! One block only or maybe two! You can walk, so easy you can walk three blocks. Or perhaps four. But certainly no more than five!”

  It was closer to ten blocks, but Emmy had stopped counting. She sat on her suitcase in the long shadow of a high church made out of blue-gray stone and wiped her damp forehead. She tipped her head back to see the leaves high above and, even higher, the belfry and soaring, pointed steeple at the top of the church. Was this where her father had rung bells as a boy? She was too tired to care. Her suitcase was on little wheels, which helped a lot, but the pet carrier was heavier by an extra rat, and her arm felt as if it were about to fall off.

  The great-aunts had not been waiting in the statio
n. Emmy had sat there long enough that the woman in the ticket booth had begun to look at her oddly. Then Emmy had looked at the large station map, found Cucumber Alley, and waited until the ticket master was busy with a long line of people before slipping out the door.

  The first few blocks had been ordinary city streets. But then she had gone under a railroad trestle and turned a corner, and everything was different.

  The houses were narrow and the streets were made of brick. The cars went more slowly. Everything was quieter, and she had passed three churches in as many blocks. The neighborhood had the feel of another time, long ago.

  But Emmy was tired and thirsty, and she had forgotten to go to the restroom in the train station. She pulled her rolling suitcase past the churchyard with its tall, slanting gravestones, and walked the last blocks to her great-aunts’ house.

  It was a pretty house on a quiet lane, and behind it she could see the river. Emmy checked the address on the letter one more time, walked up the front steps, and rang the doorbell.

  There was a rustling behind the door. The white curtain at the side window moved, and there was a slow sound of shuffling feet. Emmy put her eye to the window, but she couldn’t see anything. She knew someone was there. Why didn’t they answer?

  She waited another minute and rang the doorbell again.

  There was a long, long silence, and then the door opened a crack. “Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any,” said a reedy voice, and the door began to close.

  13

  “WAIT!” CRIED EMMY. “Aunt, er—” She took a wild guess. “Aunt Augusta, don’t you know me?”

  The door opened a little more. A hand appeared around the edge, thin and knobbly. Next came a mass of untidy white hair surrounding a pale, wrinkled face. “I’m not Augusta. I’m Emmaline. And who, exactly, are you?” The elderly woman craned her neck forward like a weary bird and blinked her watery eyes.

  “Don’t you remember, Aunt Emmaline? You invited me to visit! You said you would meet the train!” Emmy stood on one leg and then the other, hoping that the old lady would invite her in soon. She really needed to use the bathroom.