The Christmas Rat by Avi Read Free Book Online Page A

one of highest scores, second only to Angel One.
    A little after four that afternoon, I was home watching television, stretched out on the couch munching chips or something, when the phone rang.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œEric?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œAnje. The exterminator. Hey, bud, you mess around with those poison cups?”
    I sat up fast. “Well . . .”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œWhat do you . . . mean?”
    â€œI put down some poison cups in your basement. The Eden Apartments. Do I have that right? Did you touch them?”
    â€œWell . . . yeah.”
    He didn’t say anything. The silence went on for such a long time I wasn’t sure he was still there.
    But he was.
    â€œListen up, dude,” he said, his voice hard. “Listen up good . I’ve got a job to do and I intend to do it. That rat is going to die. Don’t interfere. Don’t get in the way. Don’t mess with me. You understand?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI’m going down into the basement. I want you there.”
    I swallowed hard. “Why?”
    â€œBe there!”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Anje was waiting for me when I stepped out of the elevator.
    He glared at me. His mustache made him look so fierce. It caught the light. “I just like to look a traitor in the eye,” he said. “Now get out of here and let me do my work,” he snapped. “And dude . . .”
    I turned.
    â€œJust so’s you don’t misunderstand, the only thing I hate more than rats is traitors.”
    I turned away.
    â€œAnd another thing,” he called.
    I looked back.
    â€œYou made a deal.”
    â€œI did?”
    â€œThink about it.”
    I retreated into the elevator. As the door slid shut, I could feel Anje’s eyes on me. Man, I felt like crying. I was ashamed of myself. Only I was scared, too. And angry. All at once. I also felt I had to do something . But I didn’t know what.
    With a jab of my finger I punched the LOBBY button. When I got there I went to check the mailbox. We had some mail, but the only keys I had in my pocket were for the apartment and the storage bay. There was nothing I could do about it. But instead of going back up, I waited where I was.
    When I heard the elevator open, and boots clumping away, I peeked around the corner. It was the exterminator leaving the building.
    Soon as he was gone, I went back to the basement. Just as I had guessed, there were new cups. I scooped them up—along with the new poison pellets—and dumped them all into an ash can.
    I was still angry, still scared, and pretty glad when I got back to our apartment. I double-bolted the door shut. But I had made up my mind. I didn’t care what happened: I wasn’t going to let that rat be killed.
-3-
    â€œAll this hanging around with nothing to do,” my mother said to me. “I think you’re getting depressed.” She was smiling, trying to be kind. She and I were eating dinner alone because my father had to stay late at his store.
    â€œDid you get out at all?” she asked.
    â€œWent to the arcade.”
    â€œHave fun?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œGood! Just three more days,” she said, smiling. “Crazy Christmas will be over.”
    â€œIt’s not just that,” I said.
    â€œOh, what is it?”
    â€œIt’s . . . there’s no one to hang around with.”
    â€œNo one?”
    I explained the friend situation again.
    â€œI’m sorry. Do you want to come to work with me tomorrow? You’ll probably be bored there, too. But maybe not. . . .”
    â€œI’ll be okay,” I insisted. “But I was thinking, maybe I could get a model. Something to work on . . . I have some money.”
    â€œHappy to help,” she said, patting my hand. “Oh, we got some Christmas cards. From your father’s Aunt Becky, and the Fosters. The church too, I