Not beta-ed

A Valuable Lesson

I'd been playing at the local park with some friends one Sunday afternoon. It was hot and humid but that didn't stop us making jumps for our bikes out of the debris that littered the recreation ground. I'd already come off my bike twice and skinned my elbows and knees but that didn't stop me, I loved the feeling of flying through the air, that split second where I thought I could fly was exhilarating, it was the best feeling in the world. The day was sadly drawing to a close, I knew I had to start making tracks for home soon but the pull of just one more jump kept me out later than I should have been. I often wonder if things would have been different if I had just gone home when I should have that day instead of dragging my heels.

I'd just flown over the biggest jump we'd ever made, Barry Angel had dared me that I didn't have the nerve too and I just had to prove him wrong, the Atwood family pride was at stake. I took a long run up and just flew. If I hadn't have made that jump then I would never have seen the box lying nestling in the scrub near where I landed. This was Chino and one thing living here taught me was to check out anything that was lying around…it might be junk but it might just be stolen booty that someone has stashed or dropped. So I got off my bike and walked over to the box. It was a shoebox and looked in fairly good condition, which was promising. Maybe it held a new pair of sneakers that someone had lifted from the nearby mall and dropped or maybe it just held the old, worn sneakers of the person who might have stolen the shiny new ones. Either way it was worth a look.

I lifted the lid and jumped back. I peered in and saw the bodies, the box was full of dead mice it looked like, and I stared, fascinated. Someone's pet had obviously breed and they decided to dump them here. I was just about to turn away when I saw one move. A tiny brown body twitched amongst the black, brown and white corpses. I reached my hand into the box gently removed it. I held it in the palm of my hand. Its body was about four inches long and it was cold. What should I do, the thing was suffering. Should I bring my boot down on it hard to end it's pain, it seemed like the right thing to do but I just couldn't. Its body twitched again but this time it moved its head and looked at me with it's coal black eyes. It was like it was pleading with me. I spat on my finger and held it under its nose. A miniscule pink peanut started to lap at the spit…it was thirsty! I spat again on the end of my finger when it had been licked dry, the eyes looked at me as it drank. I must have spat on my finger about ten times before it stopped drinking. The little thing seemed more awake now. I figured if it had been thirsty then it might be hungry as well. God knows how long it had been in that box. I gently cupped my hand next to my chest and routed around in my pants pocket. I found a squashed Twinkie and ripped it open with my teeth. I broke a bit off and offered it to the mouse. It sniffed then sat up on its back legs with the crumb of cake in its paws. I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my life as when I saw that little thing eat that Twinkie with such relish.

I heard Barry and Jeff come up behind me to see what I was doing. I felt protective of the mouse all of a sudden. Barry was the type of kid that threw stones at cats and stomped on bugs.

"Jesus Ryan…why the fuck are you holding a rat!" He said to me.

"It's a mouse." I replied.

It seems like I knew squat on the subject. Barry informed me that it was too big to be a mouse and I was petting a freaking rat. He then went on to say that we should kill the filthy vermin. He pointed to a tin can laying a little way over, he said that we could put the rat in there, squash down the top and throw it around for a laugh. That excited Jeff and I just felt sick. I held the rat close and wondered why I hung around with the two of them. I told them both to fuck off and walked away. I put the rat in my coat pocket and picked up my bike. I peddled home in record time all the while wondering if the rat was O.K with being stuffed in my pocket.

I rushed past mom and into my bedroom. I took my coat off and wondered if I'd find a corpse. I opened the pocket and looked inside, a wriggling nose and whiskers poked out followed by the rest of its body. It looked around my room as if it was sizing things out. It then sat on its back legs and sniffed the air. I put my hand out and it sniffed my fingers. It gave a tentative nip then started to nibble my fingernail delicately, this made me laugh for some reason. I got the squashed Twinkie out again and broke off another small portion. The rat snatched it from my hand and munched contentedly. I watched it eat every scrap and then it went about cleaning itself. It was tiny but perfect, its pink ears were so thin you could see the light through them and its tail was soft and velvety. I realized that I had to find a safe home for him. Trey fell into the Barry category when it came to animals and I couldn't risk my brother finding it. I pulled out one of my drawers and shifted the clothes to one side. The thick wood would stop him getting out I figured. I used one of my sweaters to make it a bed and filled up an ashtray with water for it. I put it down and watched as it scampered around in my clothes, took a quick drink then burrowed in my jumper. My mom called me for dinner and I gently shut the drawer.

I spent the whole time at the dinner table worrying about the rat. I also saved it a chunk of my garlic bread and a piece of carrot. When I had finished my chores I checked up on Tiny…. hmmm at some point over dinner 'it' had become 'Tiny'. I found him curled up in a ball. He slowly unfurled himself and gave me a huge yawn. I gave him his bread and carrot and he took them and ate every scrap again. I lifted him out of the draw and he scampered around my bed and wove himself in and out of my clothes. The soft fur ticked and his sharp little claws sometimes dug into me but it was a great feeling, Tiny seemed to trust me…he liked me. It was the start of a great friendship.

Tiny lived in my drawer full time, I'd modified it somewhat when I'd found holes in most of my clothes but I didn't have to worry about mom finding him, she was never one for house work and we all had to do our own laundry anyway. Trey was always out and the ass-hole of the day never came into my room. So it was just Tiny and me against the world.

He grew big and fat on the diet of scraps I was giving him. Tiny seemed a stupid name now that he was anything but. He loved his food and the name had stuck so changing it now didn't seem right…I suppose it was kind of funny.

The first time mom's new boyfriend beat the hell out of me, it was Tiny who made it better. I locked my door and opened the drawer just before I collaped on the bed. Every bone in my body ached and I cried tears of frustration that day. I'd hoped that this one would be different but he was the same as the others, a mean punchy drunk who resented the fact that his new squeeze had kids. I curled up in a ball and cried. I felt Tiny climb up on the bed but it was the warm body that I noticed first, then the small paw as Tiny rested it gently on my face and looked me in the eye and I swear he was telling me things would be all right. He licked my face and then settled down next to me, I stroked his rough brown fur and fell asleep. He was still there the next morning, a warm ball of hope in my otherwise shit life.

I hardly saw my friends now. In the four months I'd had Tiny he'd become my friend and confidant. I told him things I'd never told anyone else and his bright inquisitive eyes never wavered, never questioned what I told him, he just listened. I didn't need anyone else.

Then my world came crashing down.

I came home from school one day. I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and fixed myself a glass of milk. I went to my room to share it with Tiny. I opened the drawer and he wasn't there. I searched my room, under the bed, in the closet. I called and called but he didn't come. I searched the rest of the house…panic had set in. I saw the empty bottles in the trash and knew that my mom had been on a bender that day and had not gone into work. I couldn't search her room, in all likelihood she was already in bed with the new ass-hole. Tiny stayed in my room…he never went out of my room but what if he'd wandered next door into mom's room. I tried not to think of that scenario.

I searched my room again…maybe he'd fallen asleep somewhere and just hadn't heard me calling. I called again and lifted up all the clothes in my closet. Tiny did like to burrow. I had a pile of sweaters and tees strewn around me when the door flew open, the currant ass-hole stood in the doorway, and he was looking at me like I was something he'd stepped in. He gave me thump around the head and told me to clean my room; he said it was attracting vermin. I held my breath, my heart beat faster. He laughed as he told me that he'd cornered a rat in here and he'd taken it outside and swung it against the side of the garage. He smiled at me, a big shit-eating grin and I knew then at that moment that he knew that Tiny hadn't been a wild rat.

I got up, ran to the side of the house and saw Tiny lying on the floor. His brown fur matted with blood. I picked him up and hugged his stiff body to mine.

I buried him far away from the house and stayed out all night.

At the age of twelve I learnt never to care about anything that much again. It wasn't worth the pain when it was snatched away from you.

Fin

In loving memory of all the wonderful rats I've owned...especially Womble.