Taking Care of Crackers by Rebecca Hahn

It was the day before Christmas break, and they were planning on killing the mouse. They had claimed the back seats of the bus, as usual. The younger kids and the weaker ones were spread out in front of them; they could see every head, round as a target.

Doug and Eli sat in one seat, Eli rolling up spitwads as Doug watched. Across from them, Jeremy lounged against his window, idly flipping through the magazine he had stolen from the gas station at the edge of town. He’d been doing a lot of things like that lately, and talking about more; he had been the one to suggest they kill the class mouse over break.

“So, next weekend, we’ll be there,” said Jeremy, nodding emphatically at Doug and Eli.

Eli nodded back, grinning. “Can’t wait!” he said. “Yeah, Doug?” He punched his seatmate’s arm. Doug, who had been chosen to bring the mouse home, jerked his head in agreement, and then looked away from his friends, out his window at the falling snow.

Ever since they had begun hanging out four years ago, back in fourth grade, they had always met at Doug’s house. Doug’s dad spent most of his time working at the local hardware store, and Doug only remembered his mom as a dark jean pant-leg he used to balance against and rolled-up shirt-sleeves lifting him up toward a smiling face. Doug’s house was the safest for whatever they wanted to do, from smoking cigarettes in the backyard to shooting off rockets in the woods. It was the safest for killing the mouse.

“How do you want to do it?” Doug asked the others.

“Kill old Crackers?” Eli was fitting another spitwad into the straw he used as a shooter. “I dunno. What do you think, Jeremy?”

Jeremy looked up from his magazine. “Drowning might work,” he said. “We have to do something that Miss Maters won’t know was us.”

“Dude – the look on her face!” Eli chuckled at the metal ceiling as if Miss Maters’ astonishment was drawn there in the dents. “‘Poor little Crackers, he must have gotten too old. Don’t worry, Douglas, there was nothing you could do.’” Doug laughed as Eli pinched his cheek, roughly.

“As long as we get in some fun first,” Jeremy said. He flipped a page. “Think we should drown him, Doug?” He looked across the aisle, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” said Doug. “I mean – yeah, that’s cool.” He had actually been thinking about offering to take care of the mouse over break anyway; he liked Crackers’ soft tan fur and thought taking him home would be sort of like having a dog. He hadn’t told Jeremy that. “Here – I want to shoot it.” As Eli lifted his weapon again, Doug reached out and grabbed it.

Eli shrugged. “It’s Evan’s turn,” he said, pointing.

Doug took aim, sighting along the straw. Evan was a quiet boy, didn’t talk much in class. He always sat in the same seat, halfway up the bus, alone. Doug focused on the small, round head. Its short brown hair looked soft even from this distance.

“What’s up?” said Eli. Doug had lowered his weapon.

“Nothing,” Doug muttered. He re-aimed, and blew the missile into the air. Dead hit. Evan lifted a hand to the gooey mess.

“Knock it off!” A couple of girls a few rows up turned round to glare at the boys.

Jeremy looked up at their voices. He frowned, sliding round so he could lean his arms over the empty seat in front of him. “Got a problem?” he said.

The blond girl’s eyes widened; she quickly turned back to the front. But the red-haired one knelt up on her seat, leaning further back toward the boys. Claire – she was in their homeroom. “His mom’s got cancer, stupid,” Claire hiss-shouted at Jeremy. Doug looked again at Evan.

“Oh, yeah?” said Jeremy. “Maybe we should leave him alone, huh?” Claire nodded, warily, and then turned back toward the front. Jeremy smiled, holding out a hand toward Doug. “Give me the straw,” he said. Doug passed it over. Yes, he remembered Evan’s mom picking Evan up from school. She was tall, thin, with wispy brown hair just like her son’s and a small smile. She liked to pat her son on the head, softly, and he never ducked away. That was a funny thing about Evan. Most kids by eighth grade were ducking away – not Evan.

As Eli crumpled new pieces of paper for Jeremy, Doug sat against his window, looking down the crack between the seats and the bus wall to where Evan sat, his forehead against the glass. It was hard to tell, but his cheek looked wet, slightly reflecting the light of the rising sun. Doug blinked and looked away.

“Hey Doug, watch this!” said Jeremy. Doug turned; Jeremy aimed; his spitwad landed on the seat between the girls. The blond one cowered; Claire turned to yell, and Jeremy shot again, this time hitting her square on the forehead. She slid into her seat, slightly stunned.

“Nice one,” said Doug.

As he turned the corner toward morning homeroom, late as usual, Doug bumped shoulders with a boy just ahead of him. Books and pencils scattered across the empty hallway; the boy scrambled to pick them back up.

It was Evan. “Hey!” said Doug. Evan froze, half bent over. Then he slowly straightened, placing a notebook under the books he was holding. He raised his eyes to meet Doug’s.

“Yes?” he said, softly but quite clearly. He was clutching his books a bit too tightly, but the gaze of his brown eyes was steady.

Doug cleared his throat. He couldn’t remember ever having talked with Evan before. Pushed him, laughed at him, maybe. He wanted to say that if he’d known the kid’s mom was dying – what? Through the partially opened classroom door, Doug caught sight of the redhead, Claire, watching him from her seat. She scowled at him. A few rows behind her, Eli and Jeremy were talking to each other, planning something, it looked like.

“Well?” said Evan. “What do you want?” He took a step backward, toward the classroom. He half-turned, poised.

“You should watch where you’re going,” Doug said finally, quickly. He had meant to say it roughly, but it didn’t come out like it usually did; he sounded almost concerned.

“That’s okay,” said Evan. He gave Doug a small smile. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”

Doug frowned. “Sure I meant it,” he said, but Evan had already ducked away into the classroom.

Miss Maters was talking. “…since neither of them is here – oh, Evan, there you are, and Douglas – ” as he appeared in the doorway as well. “Take your seats, boys.” Doug moved to the back, where Jeremy was saving him a spot by glaring at anyone who came too near it. Eli gave him a thumbs-up. Evan sat in the empty front row.

“As I was saying – and it doesn’t do to be late, you know, even if it is the last day – I was saying that only two of you have approached me offering to take care of Crackers over the break. Since I don’t think it’s fair to choose one myself, and because I think this is a good opportunity for you to learn to work together, I’m going to let Evan and Douglas decide who should take him home. Just let me know by the end of the day, okay guys?”

Evan, still putting his books and pencils in order, nodded but didn’t look up. Miss Maters arched her eyebrows at Doug. He looked at Eli, who was grinning at him, amused, and at the back of Evan’s head, bent over his things. “Sure thing,” Doug said, loudly. Eli put his head in his arms to muffle his laughter.

He was still laughing at lunch.

“Dude!” he said as Doug picked at his food. “That shrimp Evan and Douglas – bonding over who gets to take care of Crackers – oh, man!”

“I’m just glad he’s gonna bring him down.” Jeremy was stewing over something, mashing his foods into one another, scowling around the lunchroom.

“What’s up?” said Doug.

Jeremy’s fork clattered against the tray. “There she is!” he growled at the lunch line. Doug looked. Claire was picking up her silverware, chatting with her friend and smiling. “Know what she did? She went and told on me – made a big deal about that Evan shrimp, how his life’s so bad.” He turned to keep sight of her as she walked toward her table. “‘Little Evan’s mommy’s sick’ – huh. She’s sick.” His hand was rigid, flat against the table. “C’mon, Doug – we’ll give it to her, yeah?”

This was the sort of thing they did all the time, some taunting, name-calling, maybe a pinch or two. Something to show kids their place. Jeremy slid off his bench, grinning at Doug. Past him, Doug could see Claire still smiling, gesturing as she told a story. As he watched, her table erupted in laughter, giving her high-fives. She glanced over at Doug’s table. Doug saw her quiet as she guessed what was up.

“Doug!” said Jeremy. “Let’s go, man!” Doug put down his spoon and swung one leg over his bench. As he looked back over his shoulder, lifting the other leg over, he caught sight of a round brown head slipping through the lunchroom doors. Evan. Doug focused on Jeremy’s leer as the door swung shut. He hesitated.

“What?” said Jeremy. “We’ll make it small, no one will see. What’s the matter?” Doug was shaking his head.

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Not now.” He stood up, avoiding Jeremy’s eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve got to go.” Doug grabbed his hardly-touched tray.

“Where are you going?” said Eli.

“What’s up, man?” said Jeremy. His eyes narrowed, studying Doug’s face.

“I’ve got to go – bathroom.” Before they could say anything else, Doug had gone, leaving Jeremy to slide back into his seat, scowling again.

When he entered the dim classroom, there was already a shadow in the back; Evan was there, watching the mouse. He glanced at Doug, and then turned back to the cage. Doug made his way through the desks toward the mouse’s table, where Crackers was running around his wheel. He crouched next to Evan, folding his legs like the smaller boy’s.

“Hey,” he said.

Evan said nothing. He was leaning so close to the cage, his forehead nearly touched the glass.

“Skipping lunch?” said Doug.

“Yeah,” said Evan.

Doug cleared his throat. This was his chance: he would tell Evan that Jeremy really wanted him to take the mouse home, and what Jeremy wanted, he usually got. And that would be the end of it. “I’m sorry – ” he began. Evan turned to look at him. He must have washed his hair sometime that morning; it looked as clean as when Doug was shooting at him, the same soft brown as his eyes. “I’m sorry about your mom,” said Doug abruptly.

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Yeah,” he said.

Doug looked away from Evan’s gaze to Cracker’s cage; he focused on the mouse’s little paws moving that big wheel. “I hardly had a mom,” he continued, “not past learning to walk, anyway. It’s just me and my dad.”

“No one to miss,” said Evan.

“Yeah, that’s true,” said Doug. He had never noticed how small those paws were, how soft and fine their fur was.

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse,” said Evan.

Doug laughed, a short, rough laugh. He glanced at Evan. “I get to do what I want.”

Evan nodded. “What do you want?”

Doug didn’t answer. The mouse had stopped running. He skittered to the water bottle, right beside Doug’s nose, and started sucking on the metal spout. The water dribbled onto his snout. They watched him drinking for a while, his throat closing around each droplet.

“I’m not coming back after break,” said Evan finally.

“You’re not?” said Doug. For a moment, the mouse sat still, looking back at him; his eyes were round and black, so round they glistened.

“We’re moving – mom wants to be near the best treatment.” He was licking his tan fur smooth and sleek. “So I wasn’t planning on bringing Crackers back.”

At that, Doug turned. “What do you mean? You’re stealing him?”

“I know.” Evan smiled. “You should probably take him – I don’t know how I’d get away with it, anyway.”

“I do,” said Doug at once, and then hesitated, glancing at the door.

“What?”

The empty hallway was starting to fill. The mouse’s eyes were closed; he was napping, his delicate chin tucked into the curve of his side. Evan’s eyes were open, though, questioning Doug. Doug answered them. “I know how you can get away with it.” He lowered his voice. “You can tell Miss Maters he died; she’d never suspect anything.”
“You think?” There was the bell: the end of lunch. “I like him,” said Evan, peering at Doug. “I like watching him run and feeding him – I like to know he’s alive.”

“Yeah,” said Doug. “Me, too.” He nodded at Evan, and there was a pause, like the moment between sleeping and waking. The mouse stirred.

“Hi, boys!” There was Miss Maters in the doorway, flipping on the overhead lights. “Have you decided who gets to take care of Crackers?”

Evan looked at Doug. Doug smiled.

As he headed toward his bus at the end of the day, Doug watched Evan getting into his mom’s car. He said something to her as she opened a door for him, and she turned, focusing on Doug. She smiled, waving at him. Her headscarf was a soft and flowery tan; her smile was small but it crinkled her eyes. Doug nodded quickly, and then turned away to watch his feet.

The world looked funny. The sidewalk was grainy; the bus side was a smear of orange. He remembered a picture his dad used to have of his mom; he hadn’t seen it for years, but it used to lean against the back of his dad’s dresser. In the picture, she was sitting on a stump, holding Doug on her knees. She was patting his fuzzy toddler head; he was looking up at her, not flinching away from her touch. His dad must have taken the photo, but his mom wasn’t smiling at the camera. She was looking into Doug’s baby eyes, as if she trusted him as much as he trusted her. Doug couldn’t really remember her eyes, but he thought they had been large and bright, and if he had to guess, he would have said they were a soft brown.

Jeremy and Eli were calling to him from the bus.

“Where’s the mouse?” Jeremy shouted, as he got near. Doug shrugged.

“What – you didn’t get it?”

“Aw, man!”

Doug reached the door and climbed up the steps into the bus. At the back, Eli was still peering out the window. “Jeremy, look – there’s that Evan kid – he’s got the cage and all!”

Jeremy leaned out as well. Doug stood, unsure, near the front of the bus while the rest of the kids watched him, warily. “You couldn’t get one mouse from that shrimp?” said Jeremy.

“What - did Miss Maters change her mind?” said Eli.

Doug looked away, and met Claire’s gaze. She looked less sure than that morning; Jeremy must have gotten to her after all. She wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking into her seat. But then, she was also still meeting his look. Her eyes were clear and steady. She even raised a shaking eyebrow as he continued to study her.

Doug nodded at her, once. She blinked, and looked away.

“Yeah,” said Doug to Eli as he walked down the aisle. “There wasn’t much I could do. Sorry, guys.” He slid into the seat behind Jeremy.

Eli frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Oh well,” he said, and reached for his straw.

Jeremy, though, studied Doug. “Huh,” he said. “Well, maybe we can do it later. Spring break, or something.”

“Yeah,” said Doug. He jerked his head in agreement. “We’ll do it later.” Then he looked away from his friends, out his window at the sparkling fields of snow.