The Lost Story

by Meg Shaffer

She opened the little door. Fritz, white with gray spots, ran out to her hand and scrambled up her sleeve to sit on her shoulder. “You aren’t afraid of rats, are you?” “Only the two-legged kind.” He held out his hand to pet Fritz, but her rat took it as an invitation and crawled into Jeremy’s palm. “Hello, Fritz,” he said, his tone dry as the Sahara Desert. She watched him intently, making sure he wouldn’t accidentally hurt Fritz, but Jeremy did a good job, holding him with one hand close to his chest and petting him with the other. She didn’t trust people who didn’t like her rat, and so far, Jeremy Cox was passing the Fritz test. “He likes you,” Emilie said. “How can you tell?” Half a hoodie string landed on the floor. She hoped it wasn’t an expensive hoodie. “He just chewed through your hoodie string instead of your finger. I go through two charger cords a week.”