Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 "Mmm, mmm, mmm!" Merle smacked his lips and licked his paws. He'd collected a few extra chicken nuggets at lunch. "Shhhhh!" Pearl shushed him. The two were crammed inside Michael's backpack in Ms. McKay's class. "You're making too much noise! The teacher is going to hear you." "Sorry. I can't help it," Merle whispered. Looking down, he discovered a chicken nugget crumb on the lapel of his George Washington jacket. "Hello there, little nugget-nugget! Didn't think you were going to get away, did you?" "Shhhhh!" Pearl repeated. Now that Merle was done eating, the prospect of three more hours in a backpack was starting to make him restless, and being dressed in doll clothes wasn't helping matters. He tugged at the waistband of his pants and scratched under his collar. "Maybe I could sneak outside and stretch my legs a bit?" he whispered. Pearl vigorously shook her head. "Take out your history books, please," Ms. McKay said. "Today we will be discussing the American Revolution." Michael reached inside his backpack and

pulled out his history book. Since that was his largest book, it opened up a little more room for the squirrels. "Thank you," Pearl said quietly to Michael, who nodded as he opened his book on his desk. Merle peeked out of the top of the backpack as the rest of the kids in the classroom dug in their backpacks for their books. At the front of the room, Ms. McKay was writing on the board with her back to the class. It's now or never, Merle decided. He sprang out of the backpack and made a break for the open window. "Michael, would you—?" Ms. McKay stopped short in the middle of turning toward Michael, her eye caught by movement on the floor.

Merle, thinking fast, froze. He could sense he was being watched, and while a squirrel's first instinct is to run for the trees when spotted, Merle knew that it was not an option here. "What is that?" Ms. McKay asked, staring at the motionless Merle. "What is... what?" Michael asked nervously as Ms. McKay started over. "Um, it's... uh..." The teacher reached down and picked up the revolutionary rodent. "Wow. He feels so real," Ms. McKay noted as Michael gulped hard. Merle had never tried so hard to stay so still in his life. "Michael," the teacher continued, "I am very impressed with your initiative!" "My what?" Michael asked, still pale with fear. "You dressed up your stuffed animal like George Washington for our lesson today! What is this— a squirrel? We'll call him 'George Washingsquirrel.'" A ripple of laughter spread across the room. Michael sank low in his seat, his terror turning to sheer embarrassment. "Do you mind if I set him on my desk for our lesson?" Ms. McKay asked. "He is just adorable." The laughter got louder. "No, ma'am," Michael muttered.

"Nice squirrel doll, Michael," Eric Weinstein teased. Michael shot him a quick grimace. For the next 45 minutes, Merle was compelled to remain completely motionless atop Ms. McKay's desk as she talked about the Boston Tea Party. "Serves him right," Pearl whispered to Michael. "I hope his whiskers itch."