Hello, folks. First off, I'd like to deeply apologise for the delay. Three months is too long a time to wait. My interest to write the next chapters really fell away, and I've been struggling to find the time to write over my other responsibilities and hobbies. However, I will try and get the next chapters up more frequently from now on. One way or another, this story will get finished.
Now, on to the story.
Chapter 6
The Monday Mystery
Downtown City groaned with its car horns, worn clutches, and rusty brake pads at the dawn of the dreaded Monday – that one unpopular day that signified the beginning of another dreary week. For many, they had just woken up from a heavy Sunday, only to be thrusted back into the monotony, with heavy eyelids and slumped shoulders and throbbing skulls.
As detested Monday mornings were to the majority, believe it or not, there were those who dwelled in the minority, and one of those happened to be Russell Ferguson. His love for that particular day stemmed from one personal activity: his weekly bathing. The warm, bubbly water reached up to his chin, soaking his orange fur and quills. Using a miniature sponge – crafted to fit his specific size – he rubbed soapy water on his body, around his face, under the arms, and behind the ears, all while humming to himself. Blythe sat at the bath side, always having enough time on the Monday mornings to give the European Hedgehog his regular scrubbing.
Blythe's style for the day seemed appropriate for the task at hand. Her hair was tied into a bun with the front parted to keep it short and manageable. She wore a jacket and shirt with the sleeves rolled up, complete with jeans and boots.
Blythe reached to the bath side and grabbed a yellow toothbrush, fresh out of the blister pack. Despite their name, they had much more uses than for just brushing teeth. "Okay, Russell," she said, "let's not forget to wash around the quills."
Gently, Blythe scooped the dripping Russell up in one hand, then scrubbed the bristles through the spikes on his back.
Russell snickered with every stroke of the brush. "That tickles…" he whispered between fits.
While she brushed, Blythe recalled a question she had been meaning to ask. "By the way, Russell, when you entered the shop, I noticed the pile of papers you had with you." She whisked the bristles through the orange quills, coaxing another delighted chuckle out of Russell. Blythe glanced through the viewing glass and saw the said pile lying unattended on the bench. "Anything I should know about?"
Russell collected himself just enough to deliver a straight answer. "It's a hypothesis…" He stopped to giggle some more. "To determine a rough estimate as to…" Giggle. "How many others can talk to animals, which…" Stopped. Laughed. Continued. "I've been working on since we met Scarlet."
"Alright then. Just as long as it's a hypothesis." Blythe set the hedgehog down on a towel. Russell took a second towel that lay beside and started to dry himself down. "There you go, clean as a whistle," Blythe complimented. The sound of a car horn directed her eyes to the front window. There was her father in the car, waiting. She reached down and grabbed her schoolbag, which had been lying beside the basin. "Oh, gotta run. You okay drying yourself?"
Russell rubbed his face with the towel. "No problem, Blythe."
"Good. I'll see you guys later." Blythe turned and headed for the exit. "Goodbye."
The hedgehog took another couple of minute drying himself, rubbing the towel all over, getting every nook and cranny as dry as a bone. While he was doing that, he could not help but notice Mrs Twombly who stood behind the counter as usual. The shop owner held open in her hands a fresh copy of today's newspaper, and scanned the segments with her spectacles and a sour look upon her face.
Russell could just barely make out her mumbling through his soap-filled ears: "The Flower in the Valley stolen? Who'd want to do such a thing?"
The Flower in the Valley? Russell had never heard of it. That must have been one important flower to be the only one to grow in this particular valley, wherever it was. Nevada, maybe? Russell shrugged it off and continued to dry himself. When he was done, he made his leisurely way over to the day camp area. Already, he felt like a new hedgehog and nothing could ever bring him down.
Russell pushed open the door flap only to be greeted with a chorus of groans, not an uncommon feeling on a Monday morning. The remaining of the regulars sat around the television, which showcased a man in a suit standing before an overview map of the United States. Faint white lines signified state boarders and orange numbers represented temperatures. Perhaps Russell had spoken too soon?
"Hey," Russell began to speak, "what seems to be the hub…" His words grinded to a halt as the weatherman's voice became more prevalent over his own.
"—Rainfall can be expected within the next few days." The man on the news spoke before the tell-tale five day forecast appeared, which only got cloudier and rainier the more they progressed from left to right across the LCD screen. "Especially if you're in the Metropolis area, so get those umbrellas ready, folks."
Upon hearing this, Russell added his belated groan to the choir. He had spoken too soon and now his mood was in sync with the rest of the world. "Just great," he muttered in a sarcastic manner. "Not even the summer can save us from rain. We'll be cooped up in the pet shop for days."
"This'll be lousy for all of us," Pepper said before shifting her gaze to a particular mongoose. "Well, almost all of us…"
"Let's not get into that again," Sunil replied, waving her off. He then gestured a humanlike thumb toward Minka. "I'd be more fretful about our primate's natural trepidation, brought about by prolonged exposure to enclosed areas of space."
Minka snapped, "I do not have a…!" Then paused, her mouth wide open in protest. After a moment, she managed to get out, "Whatever you just said."
While they argued, the news continued. The scene had switched back to the anchor-woman behind the white, glass plated desk, who rattled off some miscellaneous bulletins from yesterday and today, including the launch of a smartphone that was more superior than its predecessor (somehow), a celebrity adopting a third-world orphan (for some reason), and a triathlon taking place in Downtown City later that day, complete with interviews, ranging from the professional runners to the everyman charity joggers.
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out from behind them. "Ladies! Gents!" Everyone turned in the direction of the voice, toward the entrance, where they found Sheila Robertson. The Gatsby hat had grown on her. "Can you at least make it to the weekend before starting a riot here in the shop?"
The tension in the room, brought about by the impending fear of falling water drops, vanished in the wake of the new arrival and their new friend, like a pet shop rendition to the ending of Lord of the Flies. Suddenly, they had forgotten what they were even arguing about.
Russell, both with his fresh appearance and attitude, was the first to approach the Bichon Frise. "Welcome back to the day camp, Sheila," he spoke in a welcoming tone. "Glad to see you've returned for another day."
"Another day?" Sheila repeated. "You mean you don't get other regulars around here?"
"Nope," Russell began to answer. "It's just us seven. Most pets are only here for a day – two if they're lucky – before moving on to other places." His head perked up as Mrs Twombly appeared at the door, a pet carrier in her hand. "Speaking of which."
All eyes were on the silver-haired lady was she pushed the door open and lugged both her slim frame and bulky cage through the gap. She took a few steps into the room on her high-heels before setting the carrier down.
"Here we are, sweeties. We have a new camper with us today," Anna Twombly announced as she unhooked the latch and swung the grating open. "I'd like everyone to meet Wallace the Weasel."
Slowly, the mammal of the Mustelidae family emerged. Wallace had an oval head atop a long, slender body complete with a thin tail, and walked upright on his hind legs. His fur was a hot-rod red with a white belly. He scanned the faces before him with green eyes – so bright that they almost appeared golden. From afar, you'd be understandable for thinking that he looked like Sunil after an accident involving a can of red paint. Wallace looked around like he was seeing the universe for the first time.
Mrs Twombly stood up, carrying the now empty pet carrier with her. "Play nice now. And Wallace, don't be such a weasel now," she said before chuckling. "I crack myself up sometimes." Then she turned around and made her exit, leaving the pets and their new associate alone.
Wallace shot a gaze back at Twombly. "Oh, yeah, like I haven't heard that one before," he said sarcastically.
The other pets walked over to the weasel, eager to get a glimpse of the newbie. Wallace glanced at all of them, his golden eyes hovered over Sheila.
"Oh, it's…" Wallace began, but appeared to trail off. His mouth remained open, showing off his prominent two front teeth. His eyes remained locked on the white dog for many seconds, the two of them engaged in a staring contest battle, before he ended it and redirected them to the surrounding walls and high ceiling of the building. "…It's… such a nice place you got here. High ceilings and everything!"
Thanks to the wonderful world of popular culture, the entire world had now locked itself in an eternal state where they believed that a weasel would act like, well, a weasel. This was most prevalent in cartoons where the weasel was always the shady one, the cheapskate, the one with the dark and terrifying secret, the one who cannot be trusted, who would attempt to peddle you worthless junk from beneath a trench coat. This would almost always be followed with the classic line, "You're such a weasel." Whereupon the said weasel would respond, "Oh, thank you."
However, this was no animated cartoon, so it was hardly true. Weasels, just like any other human or animal, were as varied in personalities and behaviours.
Wallace continued, "I'd introduce myself, but that lady did it all for me." While he talked, he sounded like a bundle of shook-up nerves buried under a thin layer of confidence. "So… yeah. I'm Wallace. Nice place you got here."
"Hi, Wallace," the pets greeted in near-perfect unison.
Sheila said, "I can understand if you're feeling nervous. This is only my second day here, so I'm pretty new myself."
Wallace glanced sidewards at Sheila. "That doesn't surprise me…" He went to turn away, only to swing back with wide eyes. "I mean – you had that look about you, you know?" He spoke rapidly, frantically. "Yeah, that's what I meant. You don't appear to be as the same grain as these friendly pets."
In his stupor, Wallace failed to notice Pepper approaching on his blind left. The grey skunk smiled in a casual manner, avoiding any smugness. She hoped that some of her Pepper-branded, light-hearted humour will mellow him down a few notches.
"Hey, relax, will ya?" Pepper said, almost making the weasel jump out of his fur. She placed a paw on his shoulder. "Let your fur down. Nobody's gonna bite."
A smile crept beneath the weasel's whiskers. What started to him as an awkward touch slowly became gentle, and he found it in himself to accept it as a friendly gesture. "Oh, yeah, right." He rubbed his paws together. "So… what's there to do around here?"
Pepper, at that point, took it upon herself to be the alpha. "Plenty. Let me show you around." She eased off Wallace's shoulder and strolled leisurely across the room. As expected, Wallace followed.
As they went across the room, the rest of the pets also followed. Russell was about to take his first step when he was held back by a burly but gentle grip on his shoulder. Russell looked over to see Penny Ling, holding him with her panda paw.
Penny Ling leaned down, close to Russell's ear. "Hey, Russell," she whispered.
"Huh?" Russell said, caught off guard. "What?"
"Don't you think Wallace is acting a little… strange?"
Russell glanced back at the weasel. All of them were exchanging small talk, and Wallace was giggling profusely, maybe more than anyone would. "He's just new to the day camp," Russell replied with a shrug, "Just plain nervousness if you ask me. I wouldn't worry about it."
Penny continued to murmur in the hedgehog's ear. "But he's acting very odd toward Sheila." Her gaze narrowed on both the fluffy dog and the red weasel. "Almost as if… he knows her…"
Russell shrugged again. "The odds of that are pretty out in the sticks." His head raised as he remembered something. "Speaking of which…" He shots his gaze back across the opposite side of the day camp. His notes remain exactly where he put them, on the bench, untouched, unnoticed, undisturbed. "My hypothesis. I should get back on that right away, if you'll excuse me..."
While Russell slipped from the bear paw and scurried off to his ink and paper, Penny Ling remained rooted to the spot. She watched the hedgehog for a fleeting moment before directing her gaze to the nervous Wallace surrounded by all her friends; already Zoe was preparing to sing 'Dance like you know you can', her favourite song.
Penny Ling felt her gaze lock on Wallace. She would not let him leave her sight for one second.
Aside from the shaky start, everything continued without a hitch. Everyone, with the exception of both Russell and Penny Ling, introduced the newcomer to their array of unique talents. Vinnie showed off his dancing skills mixed with the usual tripping over one's tail routine, and Sunil the Great had another crack at the good old-fashioned switcheroo trick, this time using an unenthusiastic Minka to be his volunteer. The result was what was to be expected; Minka somehow winded up on the building's roof.
The cautious panda, all the while, remained far back, keeping to herself while nursing a stick of bamboo. Her eyes remained locked on Wallace at all times. It was clear that the weasel did not want to be there, he kept glancing over at the clock positioned above the day-camp entrance every five minutes. Was there a show on TV that he really wanted to catch, or did he just want the day to end?
Pepper was in the middle of her comedy routine, making another of her endless rubber chicken jokes, when all of a sudden a tremendous crash followed by a cry came from the opposite corner of the room. All eyes shot across to see that one of the pet feeders had sprung a leak, sending a steady stream of pet kibble spraying onto the carpet.
Sheila stood nearby the disaster. "Oh no," she said after having calmed her breath from the initial shock. "We've got a small problem here…"
All the pets rushed over to the commotion, huddling around to get a view of the tasty mess.
Penny Ling watched from afar as all they did was stop and stare. Russell, still over beside his whiteboard and ink-dotted papers, merely turned back to his workings. Usually, he would be the first one on the scene to make sure that the day-camp was one-hundred-percent accident-free, but he was sure that it could do without him for just one day, or maybe even the day after that.
Just then, Penny Ling counted the number of gawkers and realised something horrible.
She had taken her eyes off Wallace.
She swung back to where Wallace last stood, and found his space empty. Furiously, Penny Ling scanned every corner of the room and caught the wisps of a red tail as it darted out the door flap, leaving it to wave on its own volition. Wallace was making an escape whilst everyone was distracted.
"Where's he going?" Penny Ling whispered to herself before shoving the last piece of bamboo into her greedy gob.
She then got to her feet and went to make chase, but realised that she may need some backup on this one. Turning back to the crowd, he quickly rushed toward them and grabbed the pair of tails closest to her: Vinnie's and Minka's. Penny Ling rushed straight through the exit flap and down the shop, with both pets crying as they were dragged across the floor.
"Not my tail," Vinnie screamed. "Not my tail! You're gonna pull it off!"
Minka hollered, "Hey, that's a sensitive area! Let go of that!"
The giant, violet panda tried to speak, but only an incoherent mumble escaped from her mouth thanks to the hefty piece of bamboo. She munched away at it with increased rigor.
The three of them slid through the flap that led them outside. Thankfully, Mrs Twombly was too engrossed in her newspaper to notice the gecko and spider monkey being dragged across the floor by an undersized giant panda.
In the wide open expanse of the street, Penny Ling shot her gaze to the left. Nothing. She turned to the opposite way, and there was the red weasel, slinking down the sidewalk, using the terrain – lampposts, benches, and trashcans – as cover.
Both Vinnie and Minka glared up with angry eyes at Penny Ling. "What's the big idea?" Vinnie asked, his arms folded.
Penny Ling released her hold on the tails, only to grab their heads and turn them in the direction of the fleeing pet. Her bear fingers ruffled their heads of hair. "There," she said after finally swallowing the bamboo down her oesophagus. "Look!"
"Huh?" Minka murmured as both she and Vinnie witnessed the latest visitor to Littlest Pet Shop slithering down the street. "Wallace? Where's he off to?"
Vinnie shot upright, then called out, "Hey, Wallace!" His shout made the weasel halt and glance back. "Where're you going? The pet shop's this way!"
From that distance, Wallace appeared to bare his teeth and mutter something under his breath. He then turned back and continued down the warm path, his movements fast and nimble.
Vinnie turned back to the others. "What's gotten into him?"
"Beats me." Penny Ling took off down the sidewalk, after Wallace. "But I'm going to find out."
"Wait for us," Minka called before both she and Vinnie followed the panda, and the three gave chase to the escaping pet.
They had no idea what Wallace was up to, but they only hoped that they could return to the pet shop before Mrs Twombly noticed they were gone. Snack time was only a couple of hours away.
"You met what?" Youngmee Song muttered with surprise.
"Another who can talk to pets, just like me," Blythe answered, confident that her words could not be heard while both she and Youngmee stood in a barren hall corner. Finding an empty space in the crowded school was a rarity, but the two best friends were fortunate enough to stumble upon one during the lunch break. Blythe had been itching to break the news to Youngmee – the only person who knew of her secret, now out of two people – determined to tell her on the first safe opportunity she got, and now that time had presented itself there and then. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."
"Well, that explains why the pets were acting all crazy on Saturday," Youngmee contemplated as she recalled what happened two days ago. "I never told you about that, did I? I was in sweet delights when the pets rushed into the kitchen, and then just rushed out again. It was like they were possessed or something."
Blythe chuckled as she leaned her back against someone's locker. The steel cool and chalky against her jacket. "Yep. That sounds like the pets alright…"
"But another just like you? That's unbelievable. What's this person like?"
Blythe Baxter turned her blue eyes to the ceiling. "She's a huge celebrity – been doing this for way longer than I have. She makes pet products, fine-tuning them thanks to knowing exactly what the pets want."
Youngmee looked up and down to hall to make sure nobody was present. The coast was still clear. She continued. "Sounds like things have really worked out for her." She turned to the semi-clean, tiled floor. A lone, candy bar wrapper lay wedged in the crevice between the wall and the floor. "Gee, seems like everyone and their dog is talking to pets right now. I really wish I could do that…"
Blythe reached over and placed a gentle hand on Youngmee's shoulder. "Trust me when I say this, Youngmee, having this ain't a walk in the park."
"I know, but…" Suddenly, Youngmee's eyes switched from Blythe to down the corridor as a small entourage of students flooded down the hall, among them were the two remaining friends of their little group: Jasper and Sue. She whispered quickly into Blythe's ear, "We'll talk about this another time."
"Hey," Jasper spoke first, "What'cha talking about?"
"Oh, nothing," Youngmee said. "Just how our weekends have been."
"Well, you two better get ready pronto," said Sue, "because we've got Biology in five minutes."
Jasper glanced up at the ceiling. "Because, you know, you'll never get anywhere in life if you don't know the difference between a basic and an acidic."
As the four proceeded down the hall, laughing along the way, who did Blythe happen to pass on her way to her locker? Why, none other than Josh Sharp, of course. Just the sheer sight of him, with those handsome, green eyes – the scar beneath the left one – and his brown locks, and that endearing smile, sent the teenager girl's heart soaring. He was dressed in that trendy, red letterman jacket and beanie hat that suited him so well.
Blythe swallowed down the urge to laugh in a goofy manner. As the two passed, they shared a quick, casual greeting. Blythe, deep down inside, knew that Josh deserved more than just a 'Hey, how's it going', she still wanted to thank him for helping out at Pet Fest, for helping her rekindle her inspiration, and for generally being the sweetest guy she had ever met.
One day, Blythe would openly confess her feelings for Josh, but for now, Biology in 205 awaited.
Blythe stared down the stretch of hallway. Past the flock of students and their mop hair stood her locker, positioned in the centre of a row. Even from that distance, she detected something wrong. Something felt out of place, and it all had to do with her locker. The problem revealed itself as she neared and found the grey, metal door slightly ajar.
"What the huh?" Blythe whispered.
She went to grab the handle on her locker door, but suddenly acted against it. This was high school, and knowing high school, there was no telling what kind of insidious prank awaited on the other side of a tampered door.
"Hey, guys," Blythe said to the others, "did any of you see me forget to properly shut this today?"
Jasper squinted his right eye and scratched the back of his head. "Umm… no, I don't think so."
"When was the last time you opened it?" asked Sue, showing concern.
"First break," answered Blythe. "And I'm pretty sure I didn't forget to close it then. I never forget to close my locker."
Youngmee, suddenly detecting a threat in the immediate area, pulled Blythe away from her locker, then ushered the others back. "Watch out, it could be a trap," she warned. "There's no telling what will happen when you open that door."
Blythe gentle brushed out of Youngmee's grasp and slowly, cautiously, approached the steel compartment. She wondered who could have been out to get her. Nobody in the school held anything against her, except for the Biskit Twins, of course, but it was not their style to pull senseless pranks on her – let alone have the aptitude to pick the lock.
"Be careful, Blythe," Youngmee whispered, as if the sound of her own voice would trigger the trap mechanism.
Blythe Baxter reached out and wrapped the tips of her fingers behind the latch. Mustering up the courage, she pulled back and used the door as a shield. Any student would have expected a burst of flour, or the stench of rotten eggs, or the embarrassing sound of escaping wind, but nothing happened. The four held back, weary that this devious trick could be timed. They waited for seconds, but still nothing. Blythe edged around the door and risked a peek, treating her own locker like a corner in a haunted house movie. Inside lay everything exactly how it was, nothing stolen or tampered with, or even moved.
Blythe exhaled in relief. "False alarm. Everything's fine," she announced, making them exhale too.
"Boy… that's a relief," Youngmee said while wiping sweat from her brow.
"Yeah, but this brings up an important question…" Blythe turned back to her locker. "If I didn't leave this open, then how did it get open?"
Jasper suggested, "Maybe it didn't lock properly? That's happened to me a few times."
Nevertheless, Blythe reached in a retrieved her Biology textbook along with the book for the class after that one: English Literature. She focused with everything she had to concentrate and remember her next action. She slammed her locker shut, then pulled back, testing the lock. As she suspected, the locker remained shut. Right on cue, the bell rang, signifying the end of lunch and the beginning on the next session.
Youngmee, Jasper, and Sue walked down the hall. Blythe was about to join them when something stopped her in her tracks. The debacle over her locker had still not passed, something continued to nag away at the brain in her oversized skull. Something in her peripheral vision as she moved toward her locker – a pair of eyes among the dozens that inhibited the hall. However, these eyes were different, and they only seemed to stare at one thing and one thing alone: her.
She looked around nervously to where she had thought she had seen them - in a window positioned above the row of lockers. There, behind the pane of murky glass and security bars, stood perched a bird with midnight black feathers. A crow. Those were the eyes, those cold blue eyes, which traced her every movement. The black bird continued to gaze upon Blythe for a few seconds longer before craning its head, pecking something out from under its wing, then fluttering away, disappearing in a flash.
"Blythe?" Youngmee called from across the hall, snapping Blythe out of her absorbed state. "Aren't you coming?"
Penny Ling, Minka, and Vinnie panted and wheezed as they struggled to remain hot on Wallace's tail. The weasel was quick and nimble, and showed no signs of stopping as he slinked through the streets, avoiding the soles of passing pedestrians and the cars on the roads.
Wallace had made some risky moves such as darting across crossings, through congested traffic, and even once hitched a ride on the bumper of a fire engine to make some headway. Good thing the taxi the pets had managed to cling to went his way. The pets in pursuit could not help but realise that the streets were becoming more clogged with people and parked cars. Wallace's natural prowess, being a weasel and everything, gave him the edge when traversing the hostile terrain better known as the city streets.
The pets struggled to keep up. Sure, Minka was athletic and Vinnie had his sticky digits, but the two of them needed to slow down for Penny Ling, who wasn't built for long-distance running. Little did they know, however, that where they were going, there was going to be plenty more running. They were approaching the starting area of Downtown City's Annual Marathon.
