Free Tessa (From Fear to Faith) by Melissa Wiltrout

up. Its tiny body felt cold in my hand. I stroked its damp fur with the tip of one finger, and it curled its long tail around itself and emitted a series of pitiful squeaks that shook its whole frame. That sealed it. Slipping the little creature into my pocket, I turned back to the house.
    Mom looked up from folding laundry when I walked in. “What’d you do with the mail?”
    “It’s right there.” I jabbed a thumb toward the scattered pile under the desk, then stripped off my dripping coat and hurried to my room.
    “You’re an orphan, aren’t you,” I murmured, as I blotted my new pet dry with a tissue. “What happened to your mama?” The mouse was quiet now, except for a slight trembling, but it seemed unable to open its eyes. I held it up, admiring its dainty pink feet and white bib. Such a pretty mouse deserved a name. I would have to think of something. I wrapped it in a dry tissue, then tucked its cold little body close to mine.
    By now the rain had progressed to a heavy downpour that roared on the roof and slapped against my window. I leaned my elbows on the sill and watched the storm, all the while contemplating my new responsibility. The little mouse had to be hungry. I knew nothing about how to feed it, but I didn’t dare ask for help raising an animal most people considered a pest. Besides, it was probably against the rules to have it.
    With careful planning, I managed to sneak some milk and a bit of cheese into my bedroom. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I poured a bit of the milk into a plastic bottle cap and held it in front of the mouse so it could drink.
    The mouse dipped its nose into the liquid, choked, and then pawed wildly, spilling the milk down its belly and onto my bedspread. I dabbed at the mess with my last tissue and headed to the bathroom for more. On the way, I met Mom coming from the kitchen, her arms full of folded clothes.
    “What have you got?” she asked.
    “Nothing.” I slipped my hand into my pocket and ducked around the corner into the bathroom.
    Mom followed right behind me. “You were getting milk for some reason. What have you got, a kitten?”
    My heart lurched. She hadn’t even been in the kitchen when I got the milk. What did she have, X-ray vision?
    “You better show me,” she said. “I can’t guess.”
    I was caught. I withdrew the tiny mouse from my pocket, cupping my hand over it so that all Mom could see was a whiskery little nose.
    “Oh dear. A baby mouse.” There was a note of disgust in her voice.
    “She’s an orphan. Her name’s Genevieve.”
    “Where’d you get it?”
    “Outside. I rescued her from the rain. Isn’t she cute?”
    Mom looked unconvinced. “Tessa, I don’t think…”
    “I’m gonna take care of her. She won’t be no trouble. You’ll see.”
    “But Tessa, you haven’t got time, with school and all…” Her voice trailed off.
    “It is kind of cute,” she conceded. “I guess you can try, but as little as it is, I wouldn’t rate your chances of success very highly.”
    “Don’t worry, Mom.” I tucked the mouse back into my pocket, grabbed the box of tissues, and returned to my room. It couldn’t be that hard to raise a mouse.
    But eight capfuls of milk and a dozen tissues later, I was about to give up. Either the mouse choked and blew bubbles out of her nose, or she spilled the milk all over herself and me. And she kept spitting out the cheese.
    “The way you’re going, you’re gonna starve, you stupid thing,” I scolded. I plopped her down on the bed. “And it won’t be my fault. What’s the matter with you?” The mouse sat still for a moment, then began creeping toward the edge of the bed.
    “Supper,” Mom called from the kitchen.
    With a sigh of resignation, I tucked the mouse back into my pocket. “Be quiet,” I warned. I had a feeling Mom would not appreciate the mouse coming to supper.
    “So how was school today?” Mom asked, as she passed the meatballs my way. “You didn’t say anything about it