16-DAY 1：MONDAY

DAY 1: MONDAY At dawn, Penelope gave me a wake-up call. She poured a bucketful of icy water on my head! "LINE UP!" she shrieked. I looked outside. That's when I discovered there were four other mice taking this crazy jungle course. I was about to slip into the green jumpsuit I'd found in my closet. But, even though I was in the hot jungle, I'd put on a clean undershirt first. I love my undershirts. I wear one all the time, even in the summer. That's because I'M AFPAID OF DRAFTS. Unfortunately, Penelope was watching me. Before I could put one paw through my undershirt, she snatched it away and squeaked at the top of her lungs,

"REAL MICE DON'T WEAR UNDERSHIRTS, STILTON!"

I cringed, then put on the jumpsuit. Penelope threw an enormous backpack at me. It weighed a ton. I'd be lucky if I could take one pawstep. Meanwhile, Penelope lifted her own backpack without batting an eyelash. Then I followed her outside. "FORWARD MARCH!" she yelled. We left camp and began our long trek. I introduced myself to the other mice.

"Good morning, everyone," I said. "My name is Stilton, geronimo stilton." A big, tough, muscled mouse nodded at me. He wore his fur in a crew cut. "I'm Burt Burlyrat. But you can call me B.B.," he announced. "I'm a forest ranger." Next to B.B. stood a short, round rodent. He clasped my paw. "How do you do, my name is Tubby Tumblemouse," he said. Then he whispered, "My friends call me Furball." I smiled. Tubby seemed like a nice mouse. fclnef. I wondered why he had signed up for this course.

Tubby told me he was a cheese salesmouse. He had put on a few extra pounds eating too many samples. "I thought this was an easy weight-loss course. Ms. Poisonfur told me it would be like a mini vacation," he explained. Sweat dripped down his fur. "She didn't tell me we'd be forced to run twenty miles a day!" "W-w-what?" I stammered, sinking under the heavy backpack. "Twenty miles a day? I'm never going to make it! I've got low blood pressure! I've got low iron! I've got low self- esteem!" This was going to be worse than I'd thought. "Oh, how did I get myself into this mess?!"

I sobbed, burying my snout in my paws. Tubby put his paw around my shoulder. "Don't panic, Geronimo," he whispered. "I've brought an emergency supply of cheese sandwiches. They're hidden in my backpack." Just then, a teenaged mouse with pigtails scampered over. "Hi, there!" she chirped. "I'm Suzie Squeakers." Next came an elderly female rodent. She was small and skinny, with wiry fur. She wore a pair of thick glasses and a purple baseball cap. She introduced herself as Sandy Silverfur. Sandy was old, but you wouldn't find her in any old mouse home. Not yet, anyway. Sandy LOVED TO