11-I'M A SQUEAKY WEAKLING

I'M A SQUEAKY WEAKLING The path climbed higher and higher. My mood sank tower and lower. We climbed for an hour, then two, then three. After a while, the sun began to sink. Still, Ratfur kept going! Was he trying to get into the Guinness Book of Mouse Records? I was about to collapse! My whiskers were dripping with SWEAT My backpack weighed a TON. I felt like I was carting twenty bricks of my aunt Swissella's rock-hard

fruitcake. One Christmouse, I used one of her cakes as a paperweight! But I kept climbing. I couldn't let Professor von Volt down. He was counting on me. I had to keep going, even if I pulled every muscle in my body. I glanced up ahead. My sister was practically skipping along. She's the real sportsmouse in the family. She didn't even look like she was out of breath! What a show-off. Just then, Trap sneaked up beside me. "Cousin," he squeaked in my car. "You're looking a little pooped. No, make that a lot POOPED. In fact, you look like you've been run over

by a cheese truck on the freeway!" He started laughing loudly. Hee-hee! His laughter echoed down the mountain. Then he leaned in close. "Don't sweat it, Gerrytails," he grinned. "You can't help it if you've got a jelly belly. Here's a little trick to keep you going. Just repeat after me: "I, Geronimo Stilton, can make it, I can make it..."

I was so tired, I was ready to take advice from anyone. Yes, even from my obnoxious cousin Trap. I repeated his words, "I Geronimo Stilton, can make it, I can make it..." Trap went on, still smirking, "...even if I'm a squeaky weakling, even if I'm a squeaky weakling..." I repeated, "...even if I'm a squeaky weakling..." Suddenly, I realized he was making fun of me. "How dare you call me a SGUEAKY WEAKLING!" I squeaked. I would have pinched his tail, but my paws felt too weak. Trap just laughed harder. Then he SPRINTED away to join the others. iohlik. I could hear him singing: "Shake your paw, swing your tail,

You're lagging behind like a tired snail! Here comes the train, ding- ding-ding, Come on, move it, squeaky weakling!" I sighed. Thank goodness for my sweet nephew Benjamin. He had decided to walk beside me to cheer me up. "Don't Mind him, Uncle Geronimo," Benjamin said. "You are not a squeaky weakling!" I forced a tired smile. "Thank you, Benjamin. You're the only one who understands me," I panted.