Uncaged
“She unzipped her bivy sack and peered out. A rat the size of a chicken was sniffing at her backpack, looking for her saltines. Odin liked rats. She didn’t. She could handle a nice, clean caged rat, maybe with a little chill running down her spine, but a garbage-eating feral rat was something else.
“Scram!” she screamed. She thumped her constrained legs against the dirt like a grounded mermaid. The rat seemed to be thinking it over. “Seriously! Beat it!”
The rat ambled away.
Not what Odin would ...have done. There’d been a rat phase after the gecko phase, until the rats started multiplying like rats and the clueless foster mother that year—Mrs. Thurman?—finally caught on. She’d called the caseworker at midnight and demanded that the creepy kid, his sister, and the rats be out of there by morning.
Shay checked her watch: six o’clock. She’d been asleep for less than five hours.
She rolled over with a groan. She didn’t want to get up, but a bunch of crows were squawking about food.MoreLess
“Scram!” she screamed. She thumped her constrained legs against the dirt like a grounded mermaid. The rat seemed to be thinking it over. “Seriously! Beat it!”
The rat ambled away.
Not what Odin would ...have done. There’d been a rat phase after the gecko phase, until the rats started multiplying like rats and the clueless foster mother that year—Mrs. Thurman?—finally caught on. She’d called the caseworker at midnight and demanded that the creepy kid, his sister, and the rats be out of there by morning.
Shay checked her watch: six o’clock. She’d been asleep for less than five hours.
She rolled over with a groan. She didn’t want to get up, but a bunch of crows were squawking about food.MoreLess
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