9 Ditch

Chapter 9 Ditch ditch (v) to abandon, get rid of, give up; in sleight of hand, to get rid of an object secretly Jessie managed to get downstairs first, but just barely. Evan was right behind her, pushing and bumping in his effort to get to the rabbit trap before she did. They actually knocked the screen door off its track as they rushed onto the porch. But when they finally made it to the traps, Jessie shouted, "Wait! Don't touch anything!" and they both stared at the boxes. Two of them were knocked on their sides, the sticks fallen over and the radishes gone. Two of them were still set up with their bait intact. But one of them was collapsed closed, just the way it was supposed to when it caught a rabbit.

Jessie walked once all the way around the box. "What are you waiting for?" asked Evan. "We need a plan," said Jessie. "What kind of plan? You pick up the box and grab the rabbit." "It's not that simple," said Jessie. "What if the rabbit bites?" "Rabbits don't bite!" "They might. They have teeth. Two sets of incisors. When they get scared, they sometimes lunge." And suddenly Jessie thought of the rabbit being scared, which hadn't occurred to her before. And she thought about being inside that small, closed, dark space, and her skin got shivery. Jessie didn't like to be closed up in dark spaces. "I'm not scared," said Evan. "It's just a rabbit. You pick up the box and I'll grab it." "You need gloves," said Jessie. "Something that will protect you in case it scratches." "Rabbits don't scratch." "They have claws."

"How do you know so much about rabbits?" "I read," said Jessie. Which was true. She had spent an hour on Sunday night reading about rabbits. And although she hadn't come across a single story of a rabbit attacking a human being, rabbits had all the necessary body parts: sharp teeth, claws, and powerful kicking legs. You couldn't be too careful. That was Jessie's motto. "Get the oven mitts from the kitchen. They'll protect your hands and arms." A minute later Evan came out with the bright red quilted mitts on his hands. He looked like a gingerbread man. "I'm never going to be able to catch the rabbit wearing these." "You don't have to catch it. Just keep it from running away. I'll flip the box over and scoop up the rabbit, like a bulldozer. Then you cover the top of the box with your hands. Okay?" "Okay." He crouched down so that he was right in front of the box, like a baseball catcher in front of home plate. "But Evan, you have to be really careful. Don't

grab it, because rabbits have special bones that can break like that." Jessie snapped her fingers to show him how delicate a rabbit's skeleton is. "It's what helps them squeeze into tiny hiding places." Evan stood up. "Maybe we shouldn't do this, Jess. What if the rabbit's already hurt under there?" Jessie could see the worried look on Evan's face. That was an easy look to spot. His eyebrows came down on the insides and he made this squiggly-line smile that wasn't happy or sad. It was worried. But there was no evidence that the rabbit was hurt, so Jessie wasn't going to let herself get all worried for no reason. The only thing that made sense was to lift the box and find out. That's what a scientist would do, and Jessie liked science. Much more than animals. "We have to look," she said sternly. "Are you ready?" Evan crouched down. "Ready." "One, two, three, lift!" Jessie flipped the box over onto its side and scooped it at the same time that

Evan rushed forward, his oven mitts acting as a barricade. Something dark was moving on the grass; then there was a scratching and scrabbling sound in the box, and Jessie finished scooping the box so that it sat on the grass with its opening facing up to the sky. "Wow, we got it!" shouted Evan, and they both peered into the box. There at the bottom was a small dark brown animal, frantically running along the edge of the box. It was not a rabbit. "What is that?" asked Evan. "It's a mole," said Jessie, feeling as if she'd just been given a birthday present and opened it up, only to find out it was socks. "A mole?" said Evan. "I didn't know we had moles in the yard." Jessie looked at Evan. Her plan was ruined. They didn't have a rabbit, and now Evan wouldn't let her be his assistant. She would be stuck selling tickets and ushering people to their seats. "I don't suppose

you could use a mole in your magic act?" "Nah," said Evan. "That little guy would just tunnel his way out. Look at him go!" It was true. The mole was already scraping at the side of the box with his two large paws. "But Jess, I don't think you should try to catch any more rabbits. You know?" Jessie nodded. If the rabbit had been hurt—even if the mole had been hurt!—she would have felt terrible. She didn't like animals, but she didn't want to hurt them. Last winter she'd even stood up to a couple of boys who were doing mean things to a frog. And the boys had been older! But Jessie had stood her ground and made them stop. Almost single-handedly. She tilted the box and watched the mole disappear into the woods. "But now you don't have a rabbit for your show," she said. "It's okay. I'll use Peter Rabbit." Evan had an old stuffed Peter Rabbit toy, complete with a blue jacket and an orange carrot. "It's not as good," said Jessie, shaking her head.