Free The Waffler by Gail Donovan Page A

pointing to a red and yellow scarf her mom was holding.
    Monty’s stepmom held up the scarf. “Isn’t this lovely? One of my clients gave it to me. It’s from Sudan.”
    Beth’s job was helping people who just got to the United States find jobs and apartments and get their kids settled in school. Sometimes they gave her fabric from the country they’d come from. She belted the scarf around her waist. “Monty, you do understand that you need to wash your hands after you pick up the rat and before you touch anything in the fridge, right?”
    â€œRight,” said Monty. “Absolutely.”
    With Scratcher perched on his shoulder, he washed his hands. Then, carefully (house policy: Take the piece you want and want the piece you take) he grabbed the topmost apple from the fruit bowl and took a big bite.
    â€œOr any food in the cupboard,” commanded Audrey.
    Monty didn’t like being bossed by Audrey, but he decided not to argue right now. It felt good having the rat ride around on his shoulder. He didn’t want Scratcher banished.
    â€œOr any food,” he agreed.
    He took another bite of sweet, crunchy apple. He could hear the rat sniffing, as if it was thinking, you know I love apples! Monty wanted to give him a piece, but he knew Audrey would freak.
    â€œI think that goes without saying,” said Beth. She dunked a tea bag in a mug of hot water. “I’m sure Monty gets the point, Audrey. We’ll start with that understanding and if there’s a problem, then we’ll find a solution.”
    â€œWhich would be no rat in the kitchen, right?” said Audrey.
    â€œ
Audrey
,” said her mother—a one-word warning to drop the subject.
    â€œ
Mom
,” said Audrey—dropping it, but getting in the last word herself.
    â€œWhat about getting silverware out of the drawer?” asked Sierra. “Doesn’t he have to wash his hands before that, too? Or else he’ll get rat germs on the spoons!”
    Monty had expected grief from Audrey. But now his own sister was against him? Maybe he should tell Beth how Sierra used a spoon to eat chocolate spread straight from the jar! Except he would never tell on her! “Thanks a lot,” he muttered as his dad came back inside and set the empty bucket by the sink.
    â€œWhat?” demanded Sierra. “I’m just saying!”
    â€œSaying what?” asked Monty’s dad.
    Beth fished the tea bag from her cup. “We were just saying,” she said, “that of course Monty will be careful to wash his hands after he touches the rat and before he touches anything in the kitchen. It’s a nonissue, so let’s move on.”
    Monty’s dad knew how to take a hint from Monty’s stepmom. He nodded and moved on. “I’m going to walk down to the parade. Who’s coming with me?”
    â€œNot me,” said Beth. “I’ve got loads to do around here.”
    â€œNot me,” said Audrey, heading into the bathroom where she would probably spend an hour fussing with her long, blond hair.
    â€œNot me,” said Sierra.
    â€œMe,” said Monty. He had promised Leo he would look for him.
    â€œOkay,” said Monty’s dad. “You sure?”
    â€œSure I’m sure,” said Monty as the rat clambered from one shoulder to the other.
    â€œReally? You positive?”
    â€œI just said so!”
    â€œWell, I’m just asking! Because sometimes you change your mind.”
    â€œWell, sometimes I don’t!” objected Monty, feeling the rat’s feet tightening its grip, as if it was afraid. He couldn’t believe this. His dad was always mad at him for not making up his mind, and now Monty’s mind was made up, and it seemed like his dad was mad, anyway! How unfair was that!
    â€œMostly you do,” pointed out Sierra.
    â€œI do not!” said Monty. “That’s not true!”
    â€œIs so,” said Sierra,