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Butterbean hesitated, thinking back over the job descriptions she’d seen listed. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she was really qualified for any of them. She had zero teaching experience. And she didn’t even know what coding and transcription were. “Or maybe you could work? A phone job? Since you speak Human?”

“I can also speak Human,” Walt grumbled. “In a sense. There’s software for speaking Human. I could use that.”

“EXCUSE ME,” a tiny voice said from across the room. “Would you mind either SPEAKING UP or opening our cage? It’s kind of hard to hear you.”

Butterbean gasped.“We can’t let them out!”

“What do you think they’re going to do?” Oscar asked.

“RAT THINGS.” Butterbean shuddered. Like it wasn’t obvious.

“We’ll have to risk it. They’re in the same boat we are.” Walt hesitated. “And Butterbean, you know that’s a figure of speech. There’s no boat.”

“Of course there’s not,” Butterbean scoffed. She knew they weren’t in a boat. She wouldn’t have even suspected it if Walt hadn’t said that they were.

“Never mind, we’ll handle it,” Polo called. “Marco, give me a boost.”

Marco held out his hands like a step, and Polo launched herself up like a tiny acrobat onto the top of the water bottle.

“HRRRRRRUUUUUUUNNNNNNGGG,” Polo grunted, lying on her back and shoving the top of the cage with her feet. Slowly the lid shifted to the side.

Butterbean’s jaw dropped. Those rats could be in the circus.

“Good job, Polo,” Marco said, scrambling up to the top of the bottle and giving her a high five.

“Thanks,” Polo said, climbing up onto the lid and dusting herself off.

“You mean you can just GET OUT?” Butterbean said.

“You don’t think we stay in there all the time, do you?” Marco said.

“That would be ridiculous,” Polo agreed.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_12]

“WHAT?” Butterbean yelped.

“Can we get back to business?” Oscar said, frowning at Butterbean. He’d learned to unlock his cage when he was just a fledgling with pin feathers. He didn’t see why rats would be any different. (Except for the pin feathers.) “Now, the job option is certainly something we can explore. But since the independently wealthy option is preferable, I think our first move should be to take stock of our assets and see where we stand.”

“What?” Butterbean cocked her head. “What does that mean?”

“One of us may own something of value. We won’t know until we see what we have. Now, everyone gather your treasures, and we’ll reconvene here in ten minutes. Again, we might be worrying needlessly.”

“You just don’t want to get a job,” Walt smirked.

“You couldn’t have told us this BEFORE we climbed out of our cage?” Marco rolled his eyes.

“Our treasures aren’t exactly lying around the apartment, you know.” Polo shook her head.

“Apologies,” Oscar said, nodding to the rats. “Ten minutes.”

The animals scattered, grumbling quietly to themselves. Oscar was bossy, but he had a point. In ten minutes they would know whether they would be living the life of luxury or making telemarketing calls. Or worse.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

5

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“SO,” OSCAR SAID, LOOKING AROUND the circle. “I have to admit this doesn’t look promising.”

The animals had collected their personal treasures from their hidden stashes and were hovering over them protectively. They all looked very proud, but Oscar had been watching as they made their piles, and he felt a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He had expected the piles to be, well, bigger.

“I’ll start,” Oscar said. “It’s not much. There aren’t many places to hide things in my cage. So. I have a half dollar—very shiny, if I do say so myself. I have a small silver key. And the pi?ce de r?sistance—an earring.” He pushed the silver filigree earring forward with one claw.

Butterbean choked back an indignant bark.“Hey, that belongs to Mrs. Food!” Butterbean sniffed the earring. It smelled just like her. Well, Mrs. Food with a whiff of birdcage.

“Yes. Well. You remember that day she lost it? After she’d gone out, I spotted it in between the sofa cushions. I planned to return it if she looked for it again, but she never did. So I decided it was mine.”

“Oooh, silvery,” Polo said.

“Ooohhh,” Marco echoed.

“It is very shiny,” Butterbean agreed. “It must be valuable.”

“One earring?” Walt said, shaking her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“It’s a start,” Oscar said stiffly. “Now what do you have, Walt? You must have something much better than a paltry earring.”

“You could say that,” Walt smirked. “I have an unexpired credit card, and THIS!” She whipped a pair of socks out from behind her back.

“OOOH.” Butterbean’s nose quivered. “Are those… socks?”

“Not just any socks, Butterbean,” Walt said dramatically. “COMPRESSION socks.”

“OOOH.” Butterbean edged closer to sniff. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” Walt admitted. “But I heard Mrs. Food say that they are WORTH THEIR WEIGHT IN GOLD.”

“Hmm.” Oscar examined the socks. They looked like regular socks to him. “And you think she meant that literally?”

“Don’t you?” Walt looked shocked. “Add it to the list!”