"George. I had another call from Wayne's teacher. Your son shoved a pencil under a girl's skirt today. Mrs. Johnson said he stood giggling as the kid screamed her little head off."
"My son? My impression was that you had something to do with making that kid?"
"Well, he didn't get that mean streak from me. Half YOUR family's in jail, not mine."
"Come on, Mildred. I have a second-cousin in prison, and that's all."
At the moment, five-year-old Wayne huddled in the broom closet, snickering as he heard his parents scream back and forth from kitchen to living room. He enjoyed those scenes. Next, he knew from long experience, they'd be searching the house for him. Wayne had it all down pat. First, his father would search Wayne's room. When the boy heard that door slam shut, he'd run through the kitchen, then shimmy up the oak tree to the first limb, and go in his bedroom window. It would take an hour before they got back to that room.
When they finally found him, he'd be in bed, pretending to sleep. His mother would think he looked so cute and innocent -- she would often say so -- that she wouldn't wake him. By the time he came downstairs in the morning, his parents would have lost their anger. Wayne missed a lot of spankings that way.
"The principal wants to see us again, George. It's the sixth time this year, and this is only kindergarten. Face it. We have a bully for a son."
"Wait until I find that brat. I'll show him what bullying is. Wayne. Where are you ... Wayne?"
"Maybe that's where he got it. From you. You're always storming around the house. Were you a bully at that age?"
"Shut the hell up, woman. Wayne. Come out here, Wayne."
"Bully. Bully. Bully. Bully."
"Shut up. Wayne? Where are you, Wayne?" A door slammed upstairs.
Hearing that noise, Wayne tried to jump up, jamming a shoe into a mop bucket as he rose. stumbling backward, he fell against the rear wall of the closet. The lad was surprised to continue falling, a small hidden door behind him opening to receive him. As his butt hit a dusty laundry chute, he looked up at a shelf. On the wooden plank stood a large gray rat. In the light coming through the hidden door, the rat's eyes were unusually bright, one was red and the other green. It seemed to be laughing at him.
Looking behind him, into a blinding light, the boy saw a chute, like the slides at the park. Curious, he flipped over on his tummy and let go. Wheeee. Wayne expected to fall into the basement, but was surprised when the chute became narrower, slicker, and seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning as it carried him downward. He tried to stop himself and even did it once. Lying still and panting, Wayne looked downward into darkness. Heart beating wildly in fear, he tried to crawl back up but the surface was too slick and the sides hard to grip, Finally, fingers tired and sore, he was forced to let go ... continuing his slide.
Wayne hit bottom, falling into a clothes basket. Shaking from the scary slide, he scrambled out of the container, looking around. It was his basement, or was it? Some things were the same and some not. His bicycle was there, in the correct corner, but seemed smaller. And, parked alongside were two other bikes. One was a much larger girl's bicycle, and the other a really tiny one.
The old toy-box from when he was a baby was there, and open. But there were two large dolls on top. An only child, Wayne had never, ever, played with a doll. Maybe, he thought, I'm mixed up from all that twisting around. Legs still a little shaky, he crept silently up the stairs to the kitchen.
His mother didn't seem angry. Wayne expected at least a little wrath. She was mixing hotcakes. He could see a skillet on the stove, eggshells lying beside it. Eggs and hotcakes for supper? All right. He liked the idea. What was more than passing strange, though, was a large gray rat sitting on top of the table, a toy-sized cup of steaming coffee next to him. His mother hated rats. And it had one red and one green eye.
"Ma! There's a rat at the tabl...."
"Now, you leave Thomas alone. He dropped in to visit this morning. You go wash up. You know you shouldn't go down in that filthy basement before school. It'll mess up your shoes."
"A rat, Ma. A RAT."
"Thomas has always been a rat, though a nice one," she said, quickly moving over to pat the rodent on his head. She then went over to pour hotcake batter on the grill; as though nothing was wrong.
Wayne could only stand and stare, the rat seeming to smile at his confusion, raising the toy cup to sip its coffee.
They had only one bathroom, on the second floor. When Wayne went in, he found women's clothes, even underwear, lying and hanging around. His mother never did that, and some were smaller than he remembered his mother's to be.
"Jeeze. Did I bump my head on that slide?" Wayne whispered to himself. He turned on the tap and, rubbing one finger over the soap dish, proceeded to wash his hands.
"Out'a my way, wimp." Someone grabbed him by the back of the neck, literally throwing the boy aside like a wet towel.
His ire rising, Wayne spun back, fist raised. A girl stood there, his head level with the bottom of small but obvious breasts. Wayne stopped, looking way up and into a face he knew, though older and much meaner looking. It was the face of his favorite victim, Ivy Jeffers.
On the walk to school, he often looked for that wimpy girl. All it took was a threat to get her to give him either her lunch money or sack lunch. He preferred money. Her mother packed lousy lunches, girl type lunches, so he'd mostly throw them away after checking them out. Sometimes there'd be a Hostess cupcake or something. Now ... now she was larger than him, and in his own house.
"What you gonna do, maggot? You put down that fist or I'll stick it where the sun doesn't shine. Get out of MY bathroom."
Is this the Ivy Jeffers that I like to kick in the butt, or trip from behind to see her splatter on the sidewalk? he asked himself, silently, of course. It can't be the one I goosed with a pencil yesterday.
Seeing him blushing, the girl grabbed Wayne by both ears. "Awwww. Ain't he such a little cutesssy." She grinned, then shoved him out by the ears, slamming the door in Wayne's face.
Very confused by then, rats at the table, a huge Ivy upstairs, morning not evening? Wayne couldn't make sense of it. Wiping hands on his trousers, he went back downstairs. Maybe everything will be okay down there? he thought.
At least the rat was gone. His mother served a good breakfast. Wayne had barely started it, though, before Ivy came downstairs and hugged his mother ... then sitting at the table across from him, also being served eggs, toast, and hotcakes. The girl gave Wayne a silly grin.
"Gimme the butter, brother."
"I ain't your butter, I mean brother."
"Move it, twerp. I gotta get'ta school. Unlike you, creep, I'm a popular girl."
"Ha. Says who?"
"Meb'be that's your trouble." She gave him a wide grin, pointing her butter knife at him. "You might do better as a girl. You want me to help. I'd love to do a little cutting, little brother." She waved the knife.
"Now, you stop talking like that, honey. Wayne can't help it he's so small and weak. He'll grow out of it. Meanwhile, he's our cute little Waynnnseeeey." His mother came over to pat him on the head with a greasy palm.
I'm what? Wayne couldn't believe it. He was the kindergarten bully -- and worked hard for that image.
As they left for school, Ivy carrying a stack of textbooks, all was well until half a block away, when Ivy grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved her load into his hands. He had to carry them as well as his lunch sack.
"What's wrong with you, twerp? You know your job is to carry a lady's books. And don't you dare drop any or I'll whip your butt."
Wayne was surprised at how heavy the textbooks were. He'd always been a strong boy for his age; something else that was wrong. He didn't notice a grinning rat in the bushes, a rat with one red and one green eye.
While they walked, Ivy detoured down a driveway where another girl was standing on a porch. Oh, no, Wayne thought. It was the prettiest girl in the school, Jennie Markson. He'd always been afraid to even speak to her. For one thing, she was in the second grade, and he in kindergarten. The only times she'd even looked at him had been in angry glances. Was Ivy in the same grade? he wondered.
"Morning, Ivy. And where did you find this handsome young man?"
Wayne didn't know why, but he felt funny in the tummy.
"Wait a couple of minutes and I'll go with you," she told Ivy, then returned to her front door.
"Get lost, midget," his sister told him, taking her books back and giving him a push.
"But I--"
"Get lost."
"Okay, okay. Don't split a gut."
As he walked away, Wayne checked his lunch. It was a thick roast-beef sandwich, with mustard and even a dill pickle. Also a small bag of chips. He briefly thought of eating it right away, but knew it would taste better at lunchtime. Wayne continued toward the school.
A block away from his destination, he was grabbed from behind. Wayne saw it was his friend, Johnny. Johnny was the bully for the second grade. The two of them and, Larry, the meanest kid in the first grade, hung out together. It felt good to walk among friends, seeing nerds -- some bigger than even Johnny -- edge away to let them pass.
"Oh! Hi there, Johnny. Man, have I got a story to tell you, buddy."
"I ain't your buddy, twerp. What you got in that bag today? I missed breakfast."
"You can't ha--"
"Give me the bag or I'll bust your head, nerd. It's not for negottia ... negotionian ... gimme." He grabbed the bag, splitting it down the side. Potato chips fell to the ground while Johnny inspected the sandwich. "Looks, good. Thanks, twerp." Johnny stared at Wayne until the smaller boy dropped his eyes. Laughing, he used his heel to grind the potato chips into the sidewalk, then walked away, eating Wayne's lunch.
Wayne couldn't help it. Tears came to his eyes as he watched his supposed friend walk away. So this is what those nerds go through, he thought.
Wayne looked over and saw Peter Twinkins watching from the sidelines. Peter was another of Wayne's victims. "So he got you, too?
"I'm smarter than that bully," Peter said, coming over. "I hide my lunch money in my shirt-cuff, see." He showed Wayne a folded-over cuff, scotch tape keeping it in place.
Now why, Wayne thought, didn't I ever catch that? He'd even given up on shaking Peter down, never finding any money.
***
A morning in class wasn't much different, except for a few kids missing and some new ones he didn't know. The class colored in coloring books, played games, and studied the letters "f" and "e". When lunchtime came, though, Wayne was hungry.
As usual, he was used to sitting alone, since the other kindergarten kids didn't like him and the older kids didn't want to sit with a kindergärtner. This time, he didn't revel in it as usual, or feel the power of having his personal table. This time, he was simply miserable and hungry.
"Wayne." He heard Peter coming over. He held three bags of cookies from the machine with him. "I didn't have enough for two sandwiches, so I bought three cookies to share."
Before Peter could sit, Jennie Markson appeared, carrying her lunch box. "You looked so lonely sitting there, Wayne. You can have part of my lunch."
The three of them had a good time sharing their lunches with Wayne and each other. It was such an unusual situation for Wayne. Although he'd seen other kids sitting together, laughing and talking, he'd liked to sit alone. Wayne had always thought of it as being a minor king, lording it over his subjects.
He and Jennie got along well, having much in common. They both liked working on model airplanes, and Jennie even invited him over to help her with an especially difficult B-17 kit. It was an unknown world for a bully like Wayne.
After school, he thought of searching out his friends, Johnny and Larry, then thought better of it. Not after the way Johnny had treated him that morning. Instead, he walked home alone, Ivy nowhere in sight.
While walking across his driveway, he heard a voice from the bushes.
"Psssssst. Over here, stupid."
Seeing nobody there -- the bushes weren't very high or thick -- Wayne walked closer. He found that same rat, standing on its hind legs and grinning -- if a rat can be said to grin -- with one red and one green eye flashing, alternately, one and then the other.
"You wanna really go home now, and take your medicine?" the rat asked.
"I am home."
"I mean your real home, you idiot. This is a dream."
"I guess so, if I haf'ta."
"You do. Sheeesh! Where do I find these fools?" The rat shook his head. "Then click your heels three times and say 'I wanna go home.' That worked with Alice ... no, Dorothy."
Wayne did as the rat instructed. He found himself back in the broom closet, hearing his parents calling for him. The boy sighed and stepped out, almost running into his mother. She grabbed him, holding him tight, as his father came into the kitchen.
"Where you been, boy?" His father said, taking off his belt.
"You will not beat my son." She faced his father.
As they argued, Wayne left as silently as possible, went up to his room and locked the door.
The next morning, Wayne asked his mother where Thomas was. He wanted to thank the rat for bringing him back to his real home.
"Thomas? You know I can't stand rats," his mother said.
He was going to ask about his missing sister, but thought better of it.
He did find Ivy, though, on the way to school. At first, she was plainly afraid of him. She let him walk with her, but only two steps out front. Any conversation was by yelling back and forth, and she refused to let him near her books -- much less carry them. It took several days to get within arms-length of her or Peter.
Eventually, the three did become friends, once Wayne proved himself by avoiding Larry and Johnny, even protecting his new friends from those two.
One day, Wayne worked up enough nerve to actually talk to Jennie. For the occasion, he used his allowance to buy a complex B-52 kit. He waited at Jennie's locker until she came over to change textbooks, and showed it to her.
"Please, Jennie," he asked, "can you help me put this together?"
She looked at Wayne, studying him and seeming to be lost in thought. "How did you know I build model airplanes? I try to keep it a secret. Girls aren't supposed to do it. It's a boy thing."
"I dunno. It was just an idea is all." Feeling himself blushing, he turned to leave.
"Wait a minute. Let me see that."
As they talked, neither one noticed a large gray rat standing on its hind legs at the bottom of Jennie's locker. It was smiling, with one red and one green eye flashing.
The Mystery Rat had struck once again.
By Oscar Rat.
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