The Spindlers by Lauren Oliver Read Free Book Online Page B

to bathe for hours in the sun?”
    â€œUm …” Liza had never really thought about this before. “I’m not really sure how to describe …”
    â€œIs it as hot as the space between a wall and a furnace?” Mirabella asked. In her excitement, her tail had once again become unraveled from her arm and lashed wildly against the ground. “As steamy as a sulfur pit? As warm as a slop pot?”
    â€œUm …” Liza struggled for words. It was funny, she realized, how she had never thought about it before. “It’s like being wrapped in a nice blanket,” she finally said.
    â€œAhhh, a blanket,” Mirabella said wistfully. “I once had a blanket—found it in the Dumpster behind St. Mary’s School. It was very nice, almost like new, except for the big burn hole in its center and the smell of sardines. Yes—a very good blanket. I lost it, though, in a bet with a badger.” Mirabella frowned. “You mustn’t think I’m a gambler, of course, not regularly. But sometimes when the worm races are on … And I suppose your mother tucks you up all nice and neat every night when you go to sleep, doesn’t she?”
    Liza was having trouble following the dizzying twists and turns of the rat’s conversation. “I—well—I mean, not really. She used to. She doesn’t so much anymore.” Liza remembered that when she was very little, her mother had liked to sit on her bed at night and tell her stories, and even sing her little songs. That was Before: Before the exclamation point made its permanent home between her eyebrows, Before she had become so tired all the time, Before the stacks and stacks of bills. Liza was not sure what had changed, but something had, and she thought it was very unfair.
    People were not supposed to become different. Things were supposed to stay As They Were.
    Mirabella leaned forward once more and whispered conspiratorially, “I have always dreamed of having a mother.”
    â€œBut surely you have a mother,” Liza said, extremely surprised. “Everybody does.”
    The rat rocked back on her heels and waved a paw. “Oh, yes, in name I have a mother, of course. Rat 2,037. That’s what they call her, among the Tribe. But with seventy sisters and brothers, you can hardly expect that she’d have time for me, oh no. Besides, the thirty-seventh is her favorite; all because he was born with a perfect nose for sniffing out rare steak.”
    â€œSeventy!” Liza exclaimed. She didn’t know what she would do if she had seventy sisters and brothers. She had difficulty enough just looking after Patrick.
    â€œMy mother is very busy,” Mirabella said. “I have seen her only once or twice since I have been grown. No, no. I mean a real mother: a mother to cuddle you and hold you and kiss you when you have fallen down.” The rat was growing more and more agitated. “A mother to smother you with kisses! And coddle you with care! And squeeze and squinch and squelch you in hugs!”
    â€œYes—um—I guess I see what you mean,” Liza said. She found it slightly alarming when the rat grew so energetic, partially because she did not want Mirabella’s long nude tail whipping around in her direction.
    â€œCan I tell you a secret, Miss Liza?” Mirabella asked.
    â€œOf course,” Liza said.
    Mirabella cupped her paw to Liza’s ear, and Liza tried as hard as she could not to pull away, though in truth the feel of the animal’s matted fur—and hot breath—disgusted her. “I have never been hugged.”
    Mirabella drew back, looking ashamed, as though she had just confessed to killing someone.
    â€œNever?” Liza couldn’t help but feel sorry for the rat.
    Mirabella shook her head, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. Liza prayed she would not begin to cry. “Never ever,” Mirabella said, in a wail. “And I