Bat and the End of Everything Page 2

  “Does all that belong to Ezra?” Bat asked Janie, who stepped over the one whole scooter, which was lying on its side right in the middle of everything.

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “Ezra wants to learn to build scooters, so he takes apart old ones that he finds at yard sales and tries to make better ones out of their parts.”

  “Did he build that one?” Bat asked, pointing to the red scooter.

  “No,” Janie said. “That one he got for his birthday.”

  She rang the doorbell. Immediately, a dog began barking from inside the house.

  “Pumpkin, sit,” came a voice from the other side of the door. “Sit down!”

  Janie looked over at Bat and smiled. “Remember Pumpkin?”

  Bat did. The last time he had been over to Ezra’s house was in October, right before Halloween. Ezra’s family had just adopted a puppy from the shelter. At five months old, the puppy already weighed over forty pounds. Ezra’s mom had said he was almost full-grown, but Bat didn’t think so.

  “This dog is going to weigh two hundred pounds one day,” Bat had told her.

  Ezra’s mom had laughed. “What an imagination!”

  Ezra’s mom opened the door. Out poked a huge, slobbery, black-and-tan face.

  “Sit!” said Ezra’s mom again. Bat had the feeling that she said that word a lot.

  The door opened wider. Ezra’s mom was gripping Pumpkin’s collar tightly, holding him back as he strained to get to Janie.

  “Hi, Pumpkin,” she said. “Hi, Mrs. Herrera.”

  “Hi, Janie,” Mrs. Herrera said. “Hello, Bat.”

  “Pumpkin is looking really good!” Bat said. He held his hand out, palm up, so that Pumpkin could sniff it and say hello. Pumpkin buried his huge black nose in Bat’s hand, leaving a slimy wet trail across it.

  “Sorry about that,” Mrs. Herrera said. She managed to pull Pumpkin back into the house so that she could open the door wide enough for Janie and Bat to slip inside. The front room, Bat noticed, smelled strongly of wet dog.

  “Your house smells like a wet dog,” Bat said.

  “Bat,” Janie hissed.

  Mrs. Herrera grimaced. Her face looked like she was smelling the wet dog smell too. “Ezra is in his room,” she said. “He’ll be happy to see you, Janie.”

  “Come on, Bat,” Janie said, and she started down the hallway toward Ezra’s room.

  “I’ll wait here,” Bat said. “I want to visit with Pumpkin.”

  Maybe Janie said something after that, but if she did, Bat didn’t really hear it. He was petting Pumpkin’s warm, floppy ears.

  “What does he weigh now, Mrs. Herrera? Is he up to a hundred pounds yet?”

  “Almost a hundred and twenty,” she answered. She didn’t sound as happy about that as Bat thought she should.

  “What a good dog,” Bat said. A drop of saliva the size of a quarter splattered on the toe of Mrs. Herrera’s shoe.

  “He’s gotten as big as he’s going to get,” Mrs. Herrera said.

  “Oh, no, not by a long shot,” Bat said. He patted Pumpkin’s head. “Mastiffs can grow until they’re five years old.”

  “He’s not a purebred,” Mrs. Herrera said. Her voice sounded kind of high and tight.

  “He might be,” Bat said. “You never know.”

  Bat heard Janie knock at Ezra’s door, and a moment later, Ezra opened it, sticking his head out into the hallway. He was wearing pajamas and his hair was wild, like he’d been sleeping.

  “Hey, Janie,” he said. His voice was rough and scratchy. “It’s weird to see you without your camera for a change.”

  Janie didn’t answer, just thrust the book she’d brought in his direction. “Here,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Ezra said, taking the book. He looked over to the living room, where Bat still stood, stroking Pumpkin’s ears. The dog groaned contentedly, and Bat scooted his foot out of the way of a stream of saliva. “Hiya, Batty.”

  “Hi,” said Bat.

  “Feel better, Ezra,” Janie said, and she walked back to Bat.

  “Thank you, Janie,” Mrs. Herrera said. “It was nice of you to bring the book.”

  “You’re welcome,” Janie answered. “Come on, Bat.”

  “Good-bye, Pumpkin,” Bat said.

  Then they were back out on the porch. Maybe Mrs. Herrera tripped or something, Bat thought when the door slammed behind them. Or maybe Pumpkin pushed her.

  “Bat,” said Janie, picking her way back across the porch, over the scooter parts, “sometimes you are so rude.”

  Rude? How on earth could Janie think that he had been rude? He had only talked about Mrs. Herrera’s pet. If anyone was rude, it was Mrs. Herrera. She hadn’t asked him once about Thor.

  CHAPTER 6

  A Gift for Thor

  The cupcakes were delicious. Bat popped the final bite of his second cupcake into his mouth.

  “You always put just the right amount of frosting on each cupcake,” Bat told Janie, chewing.

  “Thanks, Bat,” Janie said. “That’s a really nice compliment.”

  The three of them were eating dessert out in the backyard, near Thor’s Garden, because it was such a nice evening. Janie had her camera out, and she was taking pictures of the garden in between cupcake bites.

  Bat had planted the garden with Israel’s help, and tending to the vegetables had become part of Bat’s evening routine. The garden had started off with just carrots, corn, and kale, but Bat and his mom had found room to add some broccoli and also a pumpkin plant. The pumpkin had been Mom’s idea; it wouldn’t be ready to harvest until the fall, near Halloween, and Mom thought it would be fun to make a jack-o’-lantern from it. But the pumpkin plant actually made Bat kind of sad; by the time the pumpkin was big enough to carve, this little garden wouldn’t be Thor’s anymore. Thor would be back in the wild. And he’d never get a chance to see that jack-o’-lantern.

  Suddenly the last bite of cupcake didn’t taste as sweet, and a hard lump in Bat’s throat made it hard to swallow.

  “I think I’ll go hang out with Thor for a while,” Bat said. He stood up and brushed cupcake crumbs from his lap.

  “Do you want company?” Mom asked.

  “Thor is company,” Bat said, and he went inside.

  As he walked through the kitchen, toward the hallway that led to his room, he heard Janie say, “Mom, Bat is going to be really sad when Thor isn’t around anymore.”

  Bat pulled the neck of his T-shirt up into his mouth, something he liked to do when he was feeling emotions he didn’t like to feel.

  Thor was rustling around in his litter box. Bat waited for him to finish, and then he reached over the side of the playpen.

  “Hi, little Thor,” he cooed as he reached inside. It was always best to move slowly and speak calmly when dealing with a skunk, so Bat made sure to give Thor plenty of warning that he was about to be picked up.

  This time, Bat could have sworn that when he slid his hand beneath Thor’s soft little body, the kit sort of hopped, like he wanted to help Bat lift him.

  Bat stood up straight, cradling Thor with both hands. He walked over to his beanbag chair and lowered himself gently down, being careful not to jostle the kit.

  “Hi there, Thor,” Bat said again. He leaned back in the beanbag and rested Thor on his chest, so the kit’s little face was close to his.

  Thor’s black whiskers tickled Bat’s cheek as the kit leaned in close. His nose was cool and dry, and sort of rough, like a cat’s nose.

  “Aww,” said Bat, “you missed me.” He stroked Thor’s bright wide stripe, which started right between the kit’s shiny black eyes and arched up over the top of his head, between his tiny black ears, trailing down his back, and stretching all the way to the tip of his tail.

  Thor’s fur was soft—not as soft as Babycakes’s fur, but still pretty soft—until it came to his tail. Here, the fur was more like bristly hair, and when Thor got excited he could puff his tail out to make it look three times as big.

 
There was a gentle knock on Bat’s door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  It was Janie. She peered through the crack of the door as she slowly opened it, and then she came inside. “Hi, Bat,” she said.

  “Hi,” Bat answered. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing,” said Janie. “I just thought I’d come visit you and Thor.” She walked across the room and sat cross-legged on the floor near Bat. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s great,” Bat said. “He’s the best.”

  Janie reached out and scratched Thor behind his ears. Bat appreciated how slowly she moved and how gentle she was.

  “Hey,” Janie said after a moment, “I have an idea.”

  She got up and left, and Bat heard her going into her room next door. When she came back, she was holding a pink hairbrush, and she had her camera strung around her neck.

  “Do you think Thor would like to be brushed?” she asked.

  Bat shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Janie sat back down and handed the hairbrush to Bat, who sat up straighter, lowering Thor to his lap.

  “Isn’t this your brush?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I have two,” Janie said. “Thor can have this one.”

  “To keep?” Bat asked.

  “To keep,” Janie said.

  Bat let Thor smell the brush first, and then he ran the bristles down Thor’s back. The little skunk stiffened at first, surprised, but after a few strokes, he relaxed into Bat’s lap, sort of flattening out, as Bat brushed him some more.

  “Hey, he likes it!” Janie said. She snapped a picture.

  “Yes,” said Bat, smiling. “I guess that you and Thor have something in common after all.”

  Janie laughed. “You can brush my hair later, if you want,” she said. “But only if you use a different brush.”

  CHAPTER 7

  An Idea

  By Wednesday, Bat had given a lot of thought to the Babycakes situation, as he had taken to calling it. Of course he would love to be Babycakes’s caretaker over the summer. Who wouldn’t?

  But Bat was already Thor’s caretaker, and he didn’t think it would be fair to either of the animals for him to accept the position. What if Babycakes made Thor nervous, and Mom started to worry that he might spray or something, and then she decided that they should release Thor early?

  Bat pictured Thor scampering away, his fluffy black-and-white tail disappearing into the bushes at the regional park, which Mom had already decided would make a good “forever home” for Thor.

  What if that was the last thing Bat ever saw of Thor? That white stripe, the rear end of him, leaving Bat forever?

  It was too much to imagine. Thinking about it, in the back seat of the car on the way to school, made the whole world seem too loud, too bright, too much to bear. Bat reached into his backpack and pulled out the earmuffs he sometimes liked to wear when things were feeling too intense.

  They helped with the road sounds on the outside of Bat, but not with the swirling riot of feelings on the inside of Bat.

  Thor was in his carrier on the seat right next to him, and Bat rubbed his fingers against the mesh. Thor scuffled over and pressed his cool dark nose against Bat’s fingers.

  There. That helped. Bat felt himself calming down.

  Bat saw Mom glance up into her rearview mirror to check on him. He didn’t feel like looking at her eyes. He looked at his lap instead.

  “Are you okay, Bat?” Mom asked.

  Bat rocked a little. “I’m going to tell Mr. Grayson that Jenny should be Babycakes’s caretaker this summer,” he said at last.

  “Oh,” said Mom.

  “She’s the best choice,” Bat said, loudly now. “I can’t be his caretaker because I’m already Thor’s caretaker, and Israel can’t be his caretaker because he’s leaving for the first part of the summer to go visit his cousin, and Jenny visits Babycakes the third most, after me and Israel, so she’s the best choice.”

  “I see,” said Mom.

  They had arrived at the school, but Mom didn’t seem in a hurry for Bat to get out of the car. She pulled into a parking space, put the car in park, and turned off the engine. Then she turned around so that she was facing Bat.

  “I was thinking,” Mom said, “about what a great caretaker you have been for Thor. The best caretaker a skunk could have.”

  “I love him,” Bat said. His fingers rubbed against the carrier’s zipper.

  “I know,” Mom said. “And I was thinking . . . you have been such a great caretaker to Thor that it might be a good idea, after we release him in a month or so, to find you a pet of your own, at the animal shelter. Maybe a dog or a cat?”

  “I’ve got to go,” Bat said, and he pulled his fingers away from the carrier so quickly that Thor, who had been half asleep with his forehead pushed up against Bat’s fingers, was startled awake.

  Bat unclicked his seat belt and pushed open the car door. “See you later,” he said, and he didn’t wait to hear his mom’s response. He closed the door and headed for the school, the weight of his backpack feeling like a million pounds.

  Mom honked two short, friendly honks, like she always did, but Bat didn’t look back. He didn’t even wave good-bye.

  CHAPTER 8

  To Jenny, From Bat

  “I think Jenny should take Babycakes home for the summer,” Bat told Mr. Grayson, who was standing near the door to the classroom.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Mr. Grayson said, “if you’re sure you don’t want to do it?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” Bat said. “It’s that I can’t.”

  “Okay,” said Mr. Grayson. “It’s settled, then. I’ll see if Jenny is interested in the job.”

  Satisfied, if not exactly happy, Bat went to his desk and sat down. He watched as other students came into the classroom, and when Jenny arrived, her brown hair puffing out from her head, her face smiling, like it almost always seemed to do, Bat watched as Mr. Grayson pulled her aside and asked her a question.

  “Do I!” Jenny said loudly, her already-smiling face smiling even more widely. “Of course I do!”

  “So, just check with your parents and let me know tomorrow, then, for sure,” Mr. Grayson said.

  “Oh, they’ll say yes,” Jenny said, sounding certain. “They always say yes to animals.”

  They sounded like good parents to Bat. Babycakes would be happy at Jenny’s house for the summer. Bat settled more comfortably in his seat as Mr. Grayson started talking about math. He got out his pencil and his math book, ready to do some work.

  But then a terrible thought occurred to Bat. If Jenny’s parents always said yes to animals . . . how many animals might already be living at her house?

  Bat got an awful feeling that maybe he’d made a huge mistake. His hand shot up into the air.

  “Yes, Bat?” said Mr. Grayson. “Do you have a question?”

  “Yes,” said Bat. He turned to face Jenny, who sat two rows over from him. “How many animals do you have at your house? And what kind?”

  A few kids started to laugh.

  This wasn’t funny, thought Bat. This was serious.

  “Actually, Bat, I meant, do you have a question for me?” said Mr. Grayson. “About math?”

  “No,” said Bat. “I have a question for Jenny. Actually, I have several.”

  “I’m sorry, Bat,” Mr. Grayson said. “You can ask Jenny your questions at recess. This is our last day of math work for the year, and I need to make sure we review a few more things.” And then Mr. Grayson turned back to the board and started writing some equations.

  Bat couldn’t wait until recess. No way.

  As quietly as he could, Bat tore a sheet of paper out of his notebook.

  How many pets do you have? he wrote. What kinds?

  He folded the paper in half, and then in half again, and then one more time, to make a neat little rectangle.

  To Jenny, he wrote on the note.

  He’d better put his name, too, Bat thought, s
o she’d know who the note was from.

  From Bat, he added.

  Israel sat in the seat next to Bat, between him and Jenny.

  “Hey,” Bat whispered, trying to get Israel’s attention.

  Israel looked over.

  “Give this to Jenny,” Bat whispered, his voice a little louder this time.

  Israel looked at the note, and then at Bat, and then at Mr. Grayson, whose back was still turned to the class. “You’re not supposed to pass notes in class,” he said to Bat.

  “I know that,” Bat answered. “That’s why I’m whispering.”

  Israel was a good friend. He shrugged, and then he took the note from Bat. He turned and tossed it onto Jenny’s desk.

  Just then, Mr. Grayson turned around. Bat saw Mr. Grayson see the note fly out of Israel’s hand, arch across the aisle between the desks, and land in front of Jenny.

  Israel was a good friend, and he shouldn’t get in trouble for helping Bat.

  Mr. Grayson was walking up the aisle toward Jenny’s desk.

  Bat said quickly, “Israel didn’t send the note! I did! Israel shouldn’t be in trouble.”

  Mr. Grayson stopped just next to Jenny’s desk. She still hadn’t touched the note. It sat there, a little white rectangle. Mr. Grayson flipped it over and read what Bat had written: To Jenny, From Bat. He smiled.

  “Bat, no one is in trouble. I can see it’s very important to you to speak with Jenny.”

  “Yes,” Bat said, relieved. “It is.”

  Mr. Grayson handed the note to Jenny. “I believe this is for you,” he said, “but please put it away until recess. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Jenny, and she stuck the note in the side pocket of her backpack.

  Mr. Grayson went back to the front of the classroom. He picked up the marker again, and he went back to talking about math.

  Bat felt all sorts of things mixed up together: