Ralph S. Mouse - Beverly Cleary [7]
That’s funny, thought Ralph. I didn’t know people gnawed things too.
Unexpectedly, the girl turned her head and looked straight at Ralph. Then she tapped another girl on the shoulder and pointed.
Too late, Ralph ducked back into the pocket. He heard the girls whispering, and soon others were whispering too. Oh, oh, thought Ralph, feeling both guilty and doomed. He had broken his promise to stay out of sight. He was in trouble.
Miss K spoke. “Melissa, is something disturbing you?” she asked.
Melissa, thought Ralph. So that’s the girl whose boot I’m supposed to live in.
“Not exactly, Miss K,” answered Melissa.
“There seems to be something going on that I don’t know about,” persisted Miss K. “Won’t someone let me in on it?”
“I—uh—thought I saw something move in Ryan’s pocket,” admitted Melissa.
“Ryan, do you have something you wish to share with the class?” asked Miss K.
Ralph squeezed himself into a corner of the pocket as Ryan’s heart began to beat faster, or rev up, as Ralph thought of it.
“No, not exactly,” Ryan told his teacher.
The class began to speak. “Yes, he does.” “He does too.” “I saw something and it moved.”
Ralph dug his claws into the flannel shirt as Miss K said, “Ryan, why don’t you come to the front of the room and let us see what it is?”
Ralph started to chew through the side of the pocket closest to the heartbeat.
As Ryan walked to the front of the room, he reached into his pocket, grasped Ralph by the tail, and dragged him, clawing and struggling, out of the pocket. Ralph was so angry at this treatment he was squeakless. When Ryan set him on the palm of his hand, he turned his back to the class and sat quivering with rage and terror.
“What a beautiful mouse!” said Miss K, who was young and enthusiastic and eager to give her pupils learning experiences. “Class, gather around for a better look.”
I’m beautiful? thought Ralph. No adult, or child for that matter, had ever described him as beautiful. Far from it.
“Look at his perfect little paws,” said Miss K.
Ralph looked too as the class left their seats to crowd around. His paws looked like ordinary mouse paws to him, but now that she mentioned it, maybe….
“And his lovely little ears,” continued Miss K.
“Aw—” breathed the children. “He’s cute.” “He’s really neat.” “He’s darling!”
Well, what do you know? Ralph perked up and stopped quaking. Shyly he turned to face the class.
One member of Room 5, however, did not admire Ralph. “He’s just your standard brown mouse,” said Brad. “There are plenty more like him.”
“Where did you get your mouse, Ryan?” asked Miss K.
“At the hotel where I live,” explained Ryan. “He’s a very smart mouse. His name is Ralph.”
“What’s his last name?” someone asked.
“Mouse,” answered Ryan. “His name is Ralph S. Mouse. The S stands for Smart.”
“May I hold Ralph?” asked Miss K, and Ralph found himself transferred to a softer, cleaner hand. He sat up and began to groom his whiskers, always a good performance. He could see that Ryan was happy to be receiving so much attention from his classmates.
“Aw—” breathed the class again. “Look at him. He washes like a little cat.”
“Such a tiny scrap of life,” said Miss K. “He’s a little miracle.”
Ralph stopped wiping his paws over his whiskers to look with love at Ryan’s teacher. Her long shiny hair fell over her shoulders. It looked so strong that Ralph was sure that just one of her hairs would be perfect for tying his exhaust pipes in place.
“Perhaps the custodian has a cage we could keep him in,” said Miss K.
Love turned to distrust. This wonderful woman with useful hair was turning out to be like any other grown-up.
Ryan spoke up. “I don’t think Ralph would be happy in a cage,” he told his teacher. “I’ll just keep him in my pocket if it’s all right with you.” Good old Ryan.
Miss K gently handed Ralph back to Ryan, who stuffed him into his shirt pocket. “Thank you for sharing Ralph,” she said above the lub-dub of Ryan’s heart, now steady as a well-oiled motor. “Class, how would you like to draw pictures and write stories and