Chapter 3
FIFTH GRADE
brIE
“You have to put your sleeping bag next to mine,” Dev said. His chest was puffed up, spine straighter than normal.
I guess I’d been walking with better posture, too. All the fifth graders probably were that Saturday afternoon. We all felt older, more mature. Like we were finally being taken seriously by the world.
Sleeping over at the school library was a rite of passage for anyone who lived in town from even before my mom was a fifth grader.
I was three when Gia did it, and I still remembered how her and Mom’s gleeful energy radiated throughout the house—getting Gia the new Aladdin sleeping bag, a fresh pair of pajamas that were so bright they could have been Lisa Frank, and even a fluffy pair of slippers.
Gia had protested when Mom came home with the bags of brand new goods, but Mom gave her a look that brokered no argument.
This is exactly why she worked so hard mopping floors and scrubbing toilets, she’d told her.
The fifth grade sleepover was an inauguration of sorts, and Gia was going to have everything for it.
It was a core memory of mine.
And now that it was my turn, I was thrumming with anticipation. Even if I did have Gia’s ratty old sleeping bag. Her stained pajamas. Slippers that had worn through on the bottom in several spots.
None of that mattered, though. This made me feel closer to Mom than I had in a long time. Like if I could do this thing that had made her so alive with excitement before, it might feel like she were . . . simply alive again.
I shook away the thought. I wasn’t a baby.
I knew how death worked. She wasn’t coming back, no matter how bad things were getting.
In the years since Mom died, Dad had sunk lower and lower.
I was old enough in fifth grade to be embarrassed by it, to understand that when adults whispered to one another as I passed them in town, they were talking about me.
Old enough to notice the word trash was tossed around an awful lot when I was around the rich kids.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized Gia must have shielded Mara and me from the worst of it—taking us to the library after school, setting up playdates that I later suspected were babysitting gigs. Then, it would be my turn to shield Mara.
But in those moments, I was gleeful as my best friend Dev and I made our way to school.
Turning to Dev, I said, “You have to promise not to play any tricks on me.”
Dev had a habit of hiding behind the dumpster on the corner of our bus stop and scaring the bejeezus out of me. I had to hand it to him, though—he never played tricks like that at school. He always had my back.
“I would never,” he said. “But you have to promise not to snore.”
“I don’t snore!”
“Sure you do, I bet it sounds like this.” His breath sawed in and out in loud, rumbling, old-man sounds, and we both doubled over in laughter.
Inside the school library, we were instructed to lay out our sleeping bags before heading to the cafeteria for an early dinner.
Dev had a blanket he folded over in lieu of a bag, and I dutifully set out my Aladdin hand-me-down next to it as Dev headed across the library to peruse the books in the big kid section.
“Oh my god,” I heard behind me, and froze. “Is that an Aladdin sleeping bag? What are you, three?”
I ignored the taunts and reached into my backpack with shaking hands to lay out my folded pajamas neatly inside the sleeping bag.
I’d already unfurled my thin pillow, trying to block out their snickering laughter. Just one thing was left. The stuffy I’d slept with as long as I could remember. The bulbous pink mouse Mom had given me as a baby for her Brie Cheese.
Squeakers was my ride or die, even as a fifth grader.
Dev always gave her a pat on the head whenever he came over, accepting her like a third in our friendship.
It never even occurred to me to leave her at home, not since that scary night when Dad threw everything that reminded him of Mom out onto the street.
But as I took Squeakers out, laying her lovingly on my pillow, the hushed whispers made my hands clammy. I knew right then, without a shadow of a doubt, pulling her out of my backpack had been a mistake. I wished Dev hadn’t left me to go look at books while I set up my stuff alone.
“Wow.” I recognized Ethan’s voice behind me, exaggerating his volume because what he was about to say to his friends was really for my ears. “It makes total sense that Brie Queso’s stuffy would be a rat. I mean, rats love cheese and trash.”
The sounds of Sawyer’s and Rich’s cackling laughter followed.
I still hadn’t turned around. My blood had turned to ice in my veins.
If I opened my mouth, I didn’t know if I’d scream or cry.
All I could do was wish I hadn’t brought Squeakers with me, wish I could somehow turn back time or cast a spell to make this all okay.
I was still at the age when wishing for magic was a logical response.
Someone made gnawing sounds behind me.
I hated them. Of all the kids in my class, they were the meanest. Sawyer was the leader since his dad was mayor. His friends lobbed cruel insults at me like it was a game, trying to gain favor with their king while Sawyer sat back and watched, amused by my suffering.
It made me so mad. On the nights it kept me up, I’d be so angry I’d end up punching my pillow, whisper-screaming all the things I’d wished I’d said back to them, but never would.
“You know what?” Rich said from behind me.
Anger took hold of me. I stood and spun around. They were still wearing their coats, backpacks slung over their shoulders.
“What.” I said, jaw jutting out.
Rich glanced at the adults at the far end of the library before turning to me, eyes gleaming with feigned concern. “Hey, no need to get so upset. All I was going to say is the rat looks hungry.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in understanding before he played along. “Yeah, he does. You must not be feeding him enough.”
I wasn’t about to tell Ethan he’d misgendered my mouse, but that pissed me off almost the most. Maybe if I hadn’t been distracted by it, I would have caught onto their plan earlier, been able to prevent it.
“You do it,” Rich whispered, nudging Sawyer. “You won’t get in trouble.”
Ethan nodded fervidly. “Yeah, Sawyer, do it.”
Without realizing it, we’d shifted. The three of them had circled around me, closer to the head of my sleeping bag than I was now.
Closer to Squeakers.
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed with determination as he looked at me, then at the teachers, far away and focused on other students, then back at me. His quick and jerky movements reminded me of how a real rat would behave.
His hand closed on Squeakers, and my heart tightened. I still didn’t know what was happening, what his plan was for her.
He hurried with her to the large trash can in the corner, glancing over his shoulder at me once.
His back shielded his movements from anyone watching, and when he turned around, he wasn’t holding Squeakers anymore.
The snickers from his friends said it all.
She was in the trash. Where she belonged. Just like me.
Part of me believed it. Everyone and their mother—literally—said as much.
A stinging sensation started at the back of my throat, spreading up to my eyes.
I will not cry, I thought to myself. I’ll rescue her when they walk away.
The thought hadn’t even settled in my mind when Sawyer unwrapped the garbage bag from around the can. All I could do was watch, frozen, as he tied off the end and started walking toward the main entrance of the library.
As Rich and Ethan followed, one of them jostled my shoulder and roused me. I stumbled forward, trying to catch up.
“Hi, Sawyer,” the librarian said sweetly to her prince. “We have people to do that, you know.”
“I know, ma’am,” he said politely. “But something in here kind of stinks, so I thought I’d take it out to the dumpster myself before it ruined our night.”
She looked at him like the sun rose and set on Sawyer, and let him go.
There was nothing I could do.
Sawyer could talk his way out of everything and anything. No adult ever distrusted him. He wielded power no one but his father and older brother had.
As I blinked back tears, I could feel Dev hurry to my side.
“What was in there?” He asked, smart enough to already know the gist of what happened.
The concern and love in his voice steeled me. “Squeakers.” My voice held a lofty determination. I was going to get her back. I’d jump in that dumpster and find her myself, even if I was labeled the Trash Queen for the rest of my life.
He inhaled a sharp breath. He knew what Squeakers meant to me.
“You can’t, Brie,” he said, hurrying after me. “You’ll get in trouble. You’ll never hear the end of it.”
I marched after Sawyer.
“Brie Casey.” The librarian’s voice was harsh with warning, and when I turned, her glare made my heart sink. I felt so small.
That’s all it took. I turned and trudged back to Dev, tears in my eyes.
I cried myself to sleep every night for weeks after that.
Why couldn’t I just ignore them? I kept asking myself.
I let them see how angry they made me. They saw how much Squeakers meant, so they pushed. If only I hid how important she was to me, nothing bad would’ve happened.
It was all my fault.