He took a deep breath, flapped his wings, and lifted up into the air. Then, using every bit of strength he had, he flew slowly over to the window. Going slow wasn’t part of the plan, but Oscar couldn’t go any faster. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it to the window in time. The bag was much heavier than the handbag he’d been practicing with.
But just when Oscar thought he’d have to give up, he made it to the window. With one last burst of strength, he flew outside, looked down, and plummeted out of sight.
Marco and Polo watched Oscar drop like a stone.“Was it supposed to go like that?” Marco whispered.
Polo stared at the empty window. She wasn’t sure. It sure didn’t look like part of the plan, but she didn’t want to be negative. “I think so. Looked good to me.”
“Okay, if you say so,” Marco said. “Give the signal.”
Polo nodded and leaned as far out of the grate as she could. She put two fingers into her mouth and gave a long, low whistle.
Butterbean had a mouthful of sock when she heard the whistle from the living room. She immediately spit it out and backed away. Socks were not her chew toy of choice.
Walt leaped off the man’s head and landed on the floor next to Butterbean, her legs already moving. “To the elevator! Run!”
Butterbean wheeled around and took off for the elevator, sideswiping the man and making him stumble into the wall.
Walt grabbed the squeaky carrot as Butterbean raced through the elevator door, just barely getting her tail inside before it closed.
Panting, they collapsed in a heap in the corner.
“We did it,” Walt said.
Butterbean gave the carrot a weak squeak.
“Eighth floor,” the elevator woman said.
“Done!” Polo said as the barking and screeching in the hallway stopped abruptly. If she craned her neck, she could see the man staggering around. She wasn’t sure what Butterbean and Walt’s distraction had been, but it looked effective. She turned to Marco. “Pull me back.” She didn’t feel comfortable leaning that far out of the grate. She didn’t think she was small enough to slip through, but she was probably big enough to get stuck. And they needed to get out of there.
Marco grabbed hold of Polo’s tail and pulled her back into the vent, catching her button necklace on the metalwork as he pulled. The red thread snapped, and the sparkly button fell into the room below.
“Nooo! My button!” Polo said, clutching at it as it fell. But it was no use.
Marco and Polo pressed their faces against the grate and scanned the room.“Where did it go?” Polo wailed.
“There!” Marco said, pointing. The button had bounced and was lying in the middle of the living room, next to the sofa.
“We have to get it!” Polo squealed.
Marco waved his arm desperately.“Chad!”
“Chad! The button! Get the button!” Polo shrieked.
Chad was making his way back toward the sink. He shot a look back at the grate, but he didn’t stop. Now that the commotion in the hallway had ended, he didn’t have much time. “I’ve got my butt moving,” Chad said grouchily. “I can’t move any faster. I’m getting rug burn as it is.”
“No, not your butt! The BUTTON,” Marco yelled.
Chad pulled himself onto the sink and shot the rats a nasty look before he disappeared down the drain. He didn’t appreciate the comments. It wasn’t like octopuses really even had butts.
“What do we do?” Polo said, staring at the sparkle on the carpet.
“We’ll get you another one,” Marco said, patting her on the arm. “I’ll chew one off of Madison’s sweater when she comes by this afternoon. You can distract her for me.”
Polo shook her head.“No, it’s not that. We’re not supposed to leave anything behind, remember? What if the man sees it?”
Marco looked at the button uncertainly. It was very sparkly. Someone would definitely notice it.
The Number Two Man lurched back into the apartment from the hallway. His hair was standing on end like things were nesting in it, and the bottoms of his pants legs looked shredded. Whatever Walt and Butterbean had done, it was bad. He closed the door firmly behind him and flopped onto the sofa, his foot inches from the button.
It was too late.
Marco looked at Polo and then gave an awkward laugh.“It’s fine. That tiny thing? They’ll never notice.”
But he could see the sparkle out of the corner of his eye as they turned and hurried away down the vents.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]
14
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
[Êàðòèíêà: img_32]
BUTTERBEAN WAS FOLLOWING WALT BACK into their apartment when Walt stopped short in the doorway. Butterbean slammed into her from behind, stumbling and falling forward onto her face.
“Hey!” Butterbean started to object, but then she caught sight of what Walt was staring at. Her jaw dropped.
The small duffel bag was on the dining room table next to the aquarium. It had been unzipped and was overflowing with coins, primarily because Oscar was inside, squawking happily and flinging gold coins in the air. It was a very undignified display.
“Oscar?” Walt said uncertainly. She’d never seen Oscar so enthusiastic before.
“Look, Walt! Gold! We’re rich! I did it! And I didn’t even hurt my back,” Oscar crowed, flinging another coin into the air. It bonked him on the head as it fell, but he hardly flinched. He giggled in a very un-Oscar-like way.
Walt and Butterbean exchanged a concerned look. Oscar had obviously lost it.
“What’s up, Oscar?” Walt said, carefully edging into the room.
Oscar hunkered deeper into the coin bag.“That rich duck on the Television does this a lot, and I always thought it looked fun!”
“Is it?” Butterbean asked, eyeing the bag. She didn’t think she would be able to fit inside, but it was worth a try. She might be able to if she squeezed.
“Well, yes and no,” Oscar sighed, climbing out of the bag and rearranging his ruffled wing feathers. With his feathers in place, he seemed much more like the old Oscar. “It’s a very unique experience. But it does hurt when the coins hit you.”
Walt jumped onto the table and nosed the bag.“It is a lot of money,” she said. She dipped a paw into the bag and raked her claws through the coins. “It should be more than enough.”
“Oh definitely,” Oscar said. “We’re independently wealthy now, no question about that.” He preened and flapped his wings happily. “Our worries are over.”
Butterbean stood up on her hind legs to sniff the bag.“It worked just like we planned. Those coin men won’t know what hit them! Oh boy, they’re going to be mad.” Butterbean inspected the bag carefully. Up close, it looked like it would be too small for her. Maybe if she asked nicely, Oscar would tip the coins onto the floor so she could roll in them. It did look like a lot of fun, and Oscar seemed to be in a mood to say yes.
Butterbean cleared her throat.“Um, Oscar…”
“GUYS! We’re back!” The rats’ voices came echoing through the vents. “Did we get it? Did Oscar die?” Marco and Polo shot out of the space behind the couch and skidded to a stop at the sight of the duffel bag.
“OSCAR! WHOOHOO YOU DID IT!” Marco cheered, attempting to climb up and fist-bump Oscar.
“We weren’t sure, when you fell out of sight like that,” Polo said. “You dropped like a stone.”
“Um. Yes,” Oscar said.
“Dropped is right. Did you mean to do that?” Marco asked.
Oscar cleared his throat.“Of course I did. Time was of the essence, so I decided to go with speed, not elegance.”
“Well good, we were worried!” Polo said, hugging one of Oscar’s skinny legs.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_33]
Oscar patted her awkwardly on the head and averted his eyes. He hadn’t actually been going for speed or elegance—he’d just been trying to stay in the air. Once he’d started falling, he’d picked up speed so quickly, he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop in time. If he hadn’t managed to snag the bag handle on Mrs. Food’s window crank, he might have ended up a grease stain on the pavement below. A very rich grease stain, but still a grease stain.