Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18 When you're excited because tomorrow is your first day of fifth grade— which, in case you didn't know, makes you elementary school royalty— and when you are not all that tired anyway because you slept pretty much the whole day on a plane, going to sleep is not easy. Michael lay awake thinking about his summer and about the year ahead. He couldn't wait to see his friends and tell them about his and Justin's adventures. Their friend Sadie, in particular, would love hearing all about it. At school, they were pretty much the Three Musketeers, and Michael had been bummed that Sadie couldn't join them in Israel. Michael's thoughts turned to the squirrels in his backpack. He couldn't leave them in there forever. They were, after all, souvenirs. He would need to tell his

parents about them sooner or later. Michael threw his covers off and took the crusty critters out of his backpack. He held them up, wondering if all the trouble he had gone through to get them to his house was worth it. I hope they don't stink up my room, he thought. Looking around his room to find the best place to display his treasures, Michael decided on the top of his dresser. They would show up best from the highest point in the room. He propped the squirrels up, surprised to discover that, with some gentle pushing and pulling, he was able to arrange their arms and legs so that they could stand up, like posable action figures.

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"Awesome," he whispered. He'd made the squirrels look like fierce nut-hoarding warriors. "Sadie is going to think these are so cool." He thought for a moment about taking them to school the next day but decided it was too risky. Besides, he needed a break from the stress of toting them around. Being grounded meant that he would have to come straight home after class, but maybe Justin and Sadie could drop by for a quick look. Michael opened the window next to his dresser to help with any possible odor issues. A cool late-summer breeze blew in, and the low rumble of distant thunder sounded as Michael crawled back into bed. He closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep as a light, misty rain sprinkled through the screen, dampening the top of the dresser— and the dry, salty fur of Michael's souvenir squirrels. If the rain had been heavier, Michael probably would have woken up. And if he'd woken up, he might have seen the paw of one of the squirrels move ever so slightly. But it was not, and he did not.

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