crow? A
hawk
?
Not already,
he thought. His palms were sweating, his heart racing. This was not right; it just wasn’t.
Finally, he surrendered.
Leaving him out here would just be cruel,
he told himself as he headed back into the clearing, box in hand. He would have to deal with the consequences later.
—
By the time he arrived back at the barn, a good twenty minutes had gone by, so there was no time to waste. But what to do with this animal that would now have to be kept a secret?
Martin had an idea.
At the other end of the barn from his work space, there was a trapdoor. It led down to a big storage room below the main level of the barn. There was a lot of old junk down there—wooden pallets, cardboard boxes, broken-down lawn equipment, a wheelbarrow, a rickety old bed frame—and it was on the dusty side. But some sunlight came in from a few small windows high on the wall, and since nobody ever went down there, it seemed like a workable home for a small creature without the brain power to imagine it could do better.
Martin opened the trapdoor and climbed down a steep wooden staircase, pushing away a few cobwebs as he reached the floor.
“You can stay down here,” he said to the lizard, lifting it out of the box. “I’ll bring you food and everything, but you have to be quiet. If anybody finds out you’re here, we’re both toast.”
He held it up close to his face. “Do I make myself clear, young reptile?”
He knew the lizard had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t complain.
“What’s your name, anyway? You need a name.” He thought about it, but not for too long. “Well, those beady eyes make you look kind of like my uncle Rufus. I guess that’ll do.”
He put the lizard on the floor, and it looked up at him with intense curiosity, like a toddler watching a puppet show.
“Well…see you later, Rufus.”
Martin knew it would fuss and complain again the second he headed back up the stairs, and that was exactly what happened. This lizard did not appreciate being left alone.
After closing the trapdoor behind him, Martin knelt down and peeked into the room through a crack along the edge. He shifted around to keep the lizard in sight as it lurched back and forth, screeching up a storm. But after a few moments it seemed to forget what it had been carrying on about. It soon began exploring its new home a bit, and didn’t seem to think it was so bad.
Then, it abruptly froze and crouched low.
With the quick reflexes of a cat, it darted after a cockroach that had skedaddled across the floor. And in the blink of an eye, the bug was on its way down the gullet of a lizard named Rufus.
“ M om,” Martin said as she whipped up his favorite Saturday breakfast, apple-cinnamon pancakes. “Could I get my allowance?”
“That’s your dad’s department, love bug. You know that.”
“Yeah, but he’s at work.”
“Are you in a rush?”
“Kind of.”
She gave him a curious look but didn’t start an interrogation. “Well, honey, I don’t have any cash. Can you wait till he gets home?”
“That’s okay. I’ll ride my bike.”
“Oh. To the Trout Palace?”
“Uh-huh.”
And ride he did, his mind racing the whole way. If Rufus was going to survive in that barn, he would have to be fed on a regular basis—and judging by his appetite, that could take some effort. Martin didn’t want to have to be catching bugs all the time, and he was afraid if he kept filching food from the refrigerator, he would eventually get busted. So he was going to have to come up with his own food supply.
And that would require cash. Later on, he might be able to convince his parents that he was old enough to mow the yard for pay. But for now, he would have to rely on his usual source of income.
He made it to the Trout Palace in good time and found his dad in the Walleye Theater, driving two-inch screws into the stage floor. “You came here for
that
?” he said.
“I forgot to ask you
hawk
?
Not already,
he thought. His palms were sweating, his heart racing. This was not right; it just wasn’t.
Finally, he surrendered.
Leaving him out here would just be cruel,
he told himself as he headed back into the clearing, box in hand. He would have to deal with the consequences later.
—
By the time he arrived back at the barn, a good twenty minutes had gone by, so there was no time to waste. But what to do with this animal that would now have to be kept a secret?
Martin had an idea.
At the other end of the barn from his work space, there was a trapdoor. It led down to a big storage room below the main level of the barn. There was a lot of old junk down there—wooden pallets, cardboard boxes, broken-down lawn equipment, a wheelbarrow, a rickety old bed frame—and it was on the dusty side. But some sunlight came in from a few small windows high on the wall, and since nobody ever went down there, it seemed like a workable home for a small creature without the brain power to imagine it could do better.
Martin opened the trapdoor and climbed down a steep wooden staircase, pushing away a few cobwebs as he reached the floor.
“You can stay down here,” he said to the lizard, lifting it out of the box. “I’ll bring you food and everything, but you have to be quiet. If anybody finds out you’re here, we’re both toast.”
He held it up close to his face. “Do I make myself clear, young reptile?”
He knew the lizard had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t complain.
“What’s your name, anyway? You need a name.” He thought about it, but not for too long. “Well, those beady eyes make you look kind of like my uncle Rufus. I guess that’ll do.”
He put the lizard on the floor, and it looked up at him with intense curiosity, like a toddler watching a puppet show.
“Well…see you later, Rufus.”
Martin knew it would fuss and complain again the second he headed back up the stairs, and that was exactly what happened. This lizard did not appreciate being left alone.
After closing the trapdoor behind him, Martin knelt down and peeked into the room through a crack along the edge. He shifted around to keep the lizard in sight as it lurched back and forth, screeching up a storm. But after a few moments it seemed to forget what it had been carrying on about. It soon began exploring its new home a bit, and didn’t seem to think it was so bad.
Then, it abruptly froze and crouched low.
With the quick reflexes of a cat, it darted after a cockroach that had skedaddled across the floor. And in the blink of an eye, the bug was on its way down the gullet of a lizard named Rufus.
“ M om,” Martin said as she whipped up his favorite Saturday breakfast, apple-cinnamon pancakes. “Could I get my allowance?”
“That’s your dad’s department, love bug. You know that.”
“Yeah, but he’s at work.”
“Are you in a rush?”
“Kind of.”
She gave him a curious look but didn’t start an interrogation. “Well, honey, I don’t have any cash. Can you wait till he gets home?”
“That’s okay. I’ll ride my bike.”
“Oh. To the Trout Palace?”
“Uh-huh.”
And ride he did, his mind racing the whole way. If Rufus was going to survive in that barn, he would have to be fed on a regular basis—and judging by his appetite, that could take some effort. Martin didn’t want to have to be catching bugs all the time, and he was afraid if he kept filching food from the refrigerator, he would eventually get busted. So he was going to have to come up with his own food supply.
And that would require cash. Later on, he might be able to convince his parents that he was old enough to mow the yard for pay. But for now, he would have to rely on his usual source of income.
He made it to the Trout Palace in good time and found his dad in the Walleye Theater, driving two-inch screws into the stage floor. “You came here for
that
?” he said.
“I forgot to ask you
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