The Christmas Rat by Avi

F IVE D AYS B EFORE C HRISTMAS
    C old as it was, my mother, father, and I went to church on Sunday morning. To be honest, if it was further than around the corner I bet we wouldn’t have gone. I mean, we don’t go that often. But at breakfast, my mother, who is sort of sappy about Christmas, said it might do us some good. You know, remind us what the holiday was supposed to be about and all.
    Our Lady of Mercy is a nice church, not too big, with these cool stained-glass windows which I like to look at. That morning I didn’t really listen to what the minister was saying, except it was all about Mary and the baby Jesus, and (I think) what Mary said to this angel when he told her she was going to have the baby. The minister pointed to one of the windows, where there was the angel (gold wings and white robes) and Mary (blue dress) on her knees before him. It was pretty cool to look at, which I did for most of the service.
    Then we went home, and my parents took off for work. I was alone again.
    Soon as they left I got on the phone and called Blake, my other best friend. But Blake had to work in his mother’s flower shop so he wouldn’t be free till after Christmas. I felt like saying, “Who’s going to buy flowers in this snow?” But I didn’t. Thing is, this was an all-around bummer.
    I even called Cory, who was only sort of a friend. His sister said he was in bed with the flu. Double bummer.
    Since the weekend before Christmas is the most important shopping time of the year for a lot of people, my parents had to be gone until evening. That meant putting off decorating our tree until Monday night, the only time they could plan on being around.
    So there I was, with nothing to do.
    To make things worse, even though the snow stopped, the outside temperature dropped way down. I mean, plunged. Everything froze like an old piece of meat in the back of the freezer compartment.
    By late afternoon I was bored out of my mind, staring out the living room window onto the icy street below. The parked cars, mostly buried in drifts, reminded me of the backs of whales. For walking, there were only narrow paths that had been dug out through the blowing snow. Daggers of ice hung from doorways, windows, and garbage pails. Sometimes they fell as the wind whipped the streets. I could see them shatter. The few people out were wrapped in coats, caps, mufflers, gloves, and boots. The way they moved reminded me of lost balloons in a stormy sky. I mean, it was one of those days where you think, Hey, I’m snug and safe. Nothing in the world can touch me!
    With the tip of my index finger I wrote on the inside frost of the window glass:
    MERRY CHRISTMAS!
    No one bothered to look up. Then I realized that if they did look, the letters would have read backwards anyway. I supposed if there was one of those Christmas angels flying by—you know, like I’d seen in the church window—maybe he could have read it. But guess what? I didn’t exactly see him.

F OUR D AYS B EFORE C HRISTMAS
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    M onday morning, just before my parents went off to work, a call came saying there would be an exterminator coming. Happened once a year. I think the building where we live arranged for it.
    â€œThat’s odd,” my mother said, when she hung up. “They don’t usually come at this time of year.”
    The thing was, my parents asked me to hang around to let the guy into the apartment. You know, make sure he didn’t steal anything while he was going about his business.
    â€œWhat time is he coming?” I wanted to know.
    My dad shrugged. “It’s like the phone company. You have to stay home until they show.”
    â€œAfter he comes,” my mom said, “maybe you can bring up the Christmas decorations from the basement.” She opened the top drawer of one of the kitchen cabinets and handed me this little key. “The storage bay number is on it.” I put the key in my