Malcolm at Midnight by W. H. Beck

Author:W. H. Beck [Beck, W. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

The rat snatched the pop top out of Malcolm's stunned paws. He threaded the pop top on his tail, where two others already rested. He held his tail out to admire. "I love the glim. Isn't it dazzly?"

The rat circled Malcolm slowly. "You're a new rat out here, right? I'm Clyde."

Malcolm spun around, trying to follow Clyde, but succeeded only in getting his hind leg stuck in a yogurt container. He kicked it off just in time to hide the end of his tail in his front paws. Gristle, why were his whiskers so stubby, so puny? He really had to quit chewing them—but hey, hold on. Malcolm croaked, "Did you—how did you know I was a rat?"

The rat stopped and looked at him exactly like you eyed Skylar the time he asked if he should put his name on his social studies test, Mr. Binney. "Well, because you are one? What else would you be? You're no Chihuahua." Clyde tipped his head and considered. "Did you hit your head in that fall?"

Clyde knew Malcolm was a rat. Clyde knew Malcolm was a rat. You can't know how that felt. Have you ever gone your whole life with people thinking you were one thing, but knowing deep inside that you were really something else entirely? And Clyde saw through that. Saw right through to what Malcolm really, truly was. And it didn't disgust him.

Malcolm felt a little like dancing.

Instead, he said, "Yes. I mean, no. I mean—yes, I'm new. And no, I didn't hit my head. Just—just my nose. And my whiskers." Might as well blame them on the fall.

Clyde picked up the yogurt container. "So, where are you from?" he asked, licking at the rim.

Malcolm pointed. "Inside."

Clyde pulled his head out of the container. "Inside? You mean, like inside the school?"

Malcolm nodded again. He crept toward a half-eaten breakfast burrito.

"Oh, man! You lucky rat! You made it out! Wait until you meet the others. They aren't going to believe this! Come on, I'll take you." Clyde scampered to the edge of the dumpster, the pop tabs on his tail clinking.

Malcolm hesitated. Go with Clyde? Others? Everything was moving so fast. He needed to get back inside, right? He couldn't stay out here. Could he?

Staying out here would be easier. No Midnight Academy. No Honey Bunny. Out here, he could be a rat. A rat.

Malcolm glanced up at the looming brick side of McKenna. But inside was Amelia. Aggy. His Comf-E-Cube. And Room 11. There it was—Malcolm recognized the poster of Despereaux the mouse through the window.

Malcolm also noticed something else. A drainpipe snaked up the side of the building, past four floors of ivy-covered windows. But most important, it went right past Room 11's far left window, and that window was open a crack. We already know how Malcolm can slip through the smallest of spaces. In other words, it was a way back in.

If Malcolm wanted it.

Clyde sensed Malcolm's hesitation. "What're you waiting for?" Clyde's eyes followed Malcolm's stare.

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