Ralph S. Mouse - Beverly Cleary [8]
Most of the class was enthusiastic. Others thought mice were as good a subject as any for drawing and writing. A boy named Gordon said he didn’t like to do any of those things. Miss K suggested he could go to the library, look up facts about mice, and write an essay about them. “And what do you want to do, Ryan?” she asked.
“I would like to tell how smart Ralph is.” Ryan’s answer threw Ralph into a fright. What was Ryan going to tell his classmates about the motorcycle? Ralph would not ride his precious motorcycle in front of everyone.
“Splendid, Ryan,” said Miss K, “but why not show us how smart he is? Do you know what a maze is?”
“Sort of,” said Ryan. “I’ve seen them on the kid’s page of the Sunday paper. You take a pencil and try to draw a line through the open spaces of a diagram from one side to the other. It isn’t easy, because there are a lot of dead ends.”
“That’s right,” said Miss K, who was drawing a maze on the blackboard as Ryan spoke. “Scientists use mazes with walls to test the speed with which mice learn. They start a mouse at one end and time him to see how fast he reaches food at the other end. Then they have him do it again. If he cuts down his time, they know he has learned from the experience. Do you think you could build a maze?”
“I’d like to try,” Ryan answered.
“Good,” said Miss K. “I’ll bring a stop watch for timing Ralph’s race through the maze.”
“I can bring my cap pistol for a starter’s gun,” volunteered Brad, showing interest for the first time.
“Good idea,” said Miss K. “You like to build things, so perhaps you could help Ryan build his maze.”
The boys eyed one another as if they were not sure how a partnership would work out. “Uh—OK,” agreed Brad.
So it happened that Ralph was not only a learning experience for Room 5, he was to have a learning experience of his own. He was not sure he liked the idea, especially that part about the starter’s gun. What if he couldn’t run through the maze faster the second time? What if he couldn’t find the food the first time? What if he turned out to be stupid?
Of course, I’m not stupid, thought Ralph, as he tried to make himself comfortable in Ryan’s pocket once more. I can ride a motorcycle, can’t I? He began to have doubts again, and doubt turned to anger. His intelligence or stupidity was nobody’s business but his own.
When the last bell rang and Ryan went to the back of the room to collect his parka, Ralph poked his nose out of the shirt pocket. “I’m not going to do it,” he squeaked at Ryan. “I’m not going to run any maze just because you say so.”
“Sure you are,” said Ryan out of the corner of his mouth, so no one would notice he was talking to Ralph. “I’m new in this school, and nobody paid any attention to me until I pulled you out of my pocket. You have to run the maze.”
Ralph became stubborn. “No, I don’t,” he contradicted, “and you can’t make me.”
Ryan ignored this remark. “Do you want to change your mind about staying here? You can go back to the inn with me.”
“I’ll stay here,” answered Ralph, thinking of that long smooth hall waiting for his motorcycle. “I can’t let Matt lose his job.”
Ryan looked around to make sure no one was watching before lifting Ralph out of his pocket and placing him in an overturned boot. “So long. See you tomorrow,” he said.
“Who’re you talking to?” a boy asked.
“Me?” Ryan was all innocence. “Nobody. I’m just practicing to be a ventriloquist. I’m working up an act—”
“Some act,” remarked the boy.
Ryan held up one hand and waggled his fingers as if he were working a puppet’s mouth. “What did one dandelion say to the other dandelion?” he asked in a squeaky voice without moving his lips. “I don’t know,” he said in a normal voice. Then he answered in his squeaky voice, “Take me to your weeder.”
All this nonsense made Ralph frantic.