Free Tessa (From Fear to Faith) by Melissa Wiltrout Page B

want to eat again.”
    I wanted to thank Mom for helping, but I knew she’d just brush it off. So I whispered goodnight to little Genevieve, who was already asleep, and then put on my pajamas and crawled into bed. Briefly my thoughts shifted to the mall trip I had wanted so badly. It still stung that I couldn’t go, but the arrival of the tiny mouse helped. Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad day after all.

12
    I awoke before dawn to the sound of the mouse rustling around in her box. I glanced at the clock and groaned. She can’t need anything yet. Hardly three hours had passed since her last feeding, a nocturnal affair during which I’d managed to spill a half cup of hot milk down the front of my pajamas. Pulling a pillow over my head, I tried to go back to sleep, but the rustling noises increased. Soon a pitiful squeaking began.
    “All right, all right,” I muttered as I dragged my weary body out of bed. I could feel the muscles tightening in the back of my neck, bringing on a headache. But I could not hold back a smile when I reached into the box and Genevieve climbed right into my hand.
    “You’re getting strong,” I murmured. Her eyes, which had been sealed yesterday, were now little shining slits. I warmed some milk and carried it back to my bedroom, glad that Walter wasn’t around. I knew what he would say if he found out I was raising a mouse.
    I fed the mouse, then watched in amusement as she sat up on wobbly hind legs and tried to wash her face. Next she set about burrowing up my pajama sleeve. I left her loose on the bed while I brushed out my hair in front of the mirror.
    No tests today, I thought in satisfaction. But I wish I could remember what that special event is.
    “How’s the critter this morning?” Mom asked me at breakfast.
    “Kind of demanding. Already she thinks I’m her mama.”
    “Is she eating okay?”
    “Yeah, I think so. She woke me up because she was hungry.” I spread raspberry jam on my toast and took a bite. “So . . . are you still gonna feed her for me while I’m gone?”
    “I said I would.”
    “I figure she’ll want to eat again around ten.”
    “All right.” Mom sounded resigned.
    Later, Mom dropped me off at school with the usual farewell: “Bye, have a good day.” I nodded and hurried inside, making a wide circuit around where Lois stood gossiping with her friends.
    At my locker I met Janet. “Isn’t there something going on today?” I asked, as I pulled off my coat and stuffed it through the narrow opening.
    “Sure, it’s Good Citizens’ Day. You and I get to skip English class. How could you forget something as important as that?” She swatted me playfully.
    “I don’t know.” I laughed at how foolish it sounded.
    Good Citizens’ Day was a creation of the Northford school system. Every year, on the first Thursday in November, we were given a special forty-five-minute presentation in place of one of our regular class periods. Once a lady from the Red Cross did a slide show and handed out pamphlets on volunteer opportunities; another time, Janet’s grandfather spoke about his experiences as a soldier in the Korean War. As I gathered my books and headed toward my first class, I wondered what they had come up with this year.
    “Hey, Tess.” Lois caught up with me, her face flushed with excitement. “You’ll never guess what happened last night.”
    “To you? I’m not even gonna try.”
    “Well, me and Andrea…” She paused to catch her breath. “Me and Andrea were watching a movie last night when this police car turns into our driveway. He had his lights on and everything. So my mom grabs her slippers and runs to the door and guess what?”
    “Your roof was on fire.”
    “No!” She was giggling almost too hard to talk. “He said somebody had dialed 911. Mom told him that was silly, but afterwards she went down the basement and guess what? That crazy cat of ours had knocked the phone onto the couch and was standing there, kneading the