The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl: Squirrel Meets World Read online

  Doreen scratched her scalp, hard. It was itching, she thought, because of all her unspoken thoughts. Also her tail was crammed in her pants, but that was nothing new. Life as Doreen Green involved a lot of nuts, scads of cakes, a number of nut cakes, and a great deal of aches.

  At lunch hour, she walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria behind a group of five girls, who were chatting nonstop like a nest of squirrels. Doreen sighed.14 In California she always had a friend here, a friend there. But she’d never belonged to a burrow.15

  As awesome as that group of girls looked, they were awfully slow, so Doreen picked up the pace trying to get around them. One of the group was the girl from that morning.

  “Lucy Tang! Hi!” said Doreen.

  “Uh, hi,” said Lucy, who then whispered to the others, “She’s the one I was telling you about.”

  “Whoa, baby got back,” said the blonde in the middle.

  “Huh?” said Doreen. Did she just make a comment about Doreen’s badonk? Because it was a fact that Doreen sported a supersized badonk. It was a real challenge, frankly, to find pants that would fit her tail-enhanced badonk as well as her naturally thick thighs.16 “Um, do you have lunch this period, too?”

  “Uh, yeah,” said the blonde. She pointed at Doreen’s face. “Do you have your lunch stored in those rosy cheeks?”

  Doreen ran her tongue on the inside of her cheeks just to make sure. She didn’t think she had food in there, but it was a very useful place to store a few extra nuts….

  Or wait, was that girl implying that her wide, full cheeks were something to be ashamed of instead of a useful adaptation?

  “Hey, honest help,” said a brunette. “If you want my orthodontist’s number I’d be happy to share. Maybe he can do something for your…” She gestured toward Doreen’s mouth, where her front teeth stuck out below her top lip.

  Fuzzmuppets, Doreen swore to herself. She stopped and let the group pass by. How in the known universe was a girl supposed to make a lifelong very best New Jersey friend if everyone was being so weird?17

  Doreen glared up at the school ceiling, shaking a threatening fist. At moments like this, she briefly considered giving up on optimism. Expecting the worst sounded so much easier than demanding wonderfulness from life. But no! She would not be defeated! She took a deep breath and entered the cafeteria.

  It was teeming, like when you turn over a log and all the worms and stuff start to wiggle away.18

  Doreen was seconds away from leaping onto a table and declaring to the room, I am Doreen Green, age fourteen, and I’m looking for a friend. Who among you is most likely to want to hang out with me and talk for hours and eat trail mix once it’s been picked clean of the abominations known as raisins?19

  But Lucy was staring at her. The word “freak” seemed to vibrate in the air like a rung bell. Doreen just stood there, like a squirrel frozen on a street, a car coming at her. The tail crammed in her pants ached like a bad secret.

  But wait! There was a table over there, mostly empty. Just one girl. She had acorn brown skin and hair as black as black squirrels, and she was bent over reading a math textbook and nibbling dry crackers.

  Doreen sat down and started pulling her lunch out of her paper bag: two almond-butter sandwiches, three apples, and a half pound of raisin-free trail mix.

  The girl looked up, frowning.

  “Hey, I’m Doreen Green. Just moved in. What’s your name?”

  “Ana Sofía?” The girl said it like a question.

  “Ana Sofía is your name?”

  The girl nodded, but she seemed uncertain.

  “Awesome,” said Doreen. “I’ve never had a friend named Ana Sofía before, and I’ve always wanted one. See, I have a life goal of having at least one friend with every name ever.”

  Ana Sofía pointed at her ears and shook her head. Doreen noticed now that the girl was wearing behind-the-ear hearing aids. Ben, one of Doreen’s Canadian cousins, wore hearing aids like that.20

  “Oh, are you deaf?” said Doreen. “Or do you say ‘hard of hearing’? I think some people prefer ‘deaf’ and some prefer—”

  “I can’t really understand you,” Ana Sofía interrupted. “I read lips, but I need to hear some of what you’re saying to make sense of it, and my hearing aids pick up too much background noise in here.”

  She’d clearly had to explain this to people before.

  Doreen scooted closer. “Do you want to go eat outside? Does it help if I TALK LOUDER…or if I move my mouth big like this when I talk—wait, no, Ben told me that’s super-obnoxious. Ben’s my Canadian cousin. One of my Canadian cousins, I have like twenty—”

  Ana Sofía sighed. “I can’t understand you. Besides, I’d rather sit alone.”

  Doreen’s heart felt as if it were curling up, a snail pulling back inside its shell. She tried to say, That’s cool, whatever, but she couldn’t seem to get her voice to work. Besides, Ana Sofía had looked back at her math textbook. Because apparently her math textbook was a vast improvement over Doreen Green.

  Pressing her lips together to keep herself silent, Doreen re-bagged her lunch and slumped outside to eat on the front steps. Maybe the Doreen who was capable of having friends had been left behind in California. Maybe the nut of her was lost and she was just the discarded shell. She glared up at the school. It might as well have grown limbs, picked up a club, and splatted her from the get-go. Today had gone that badly.

  And then…

  “Hey,” said a bald white man in a suit, leaning out the front door. “No eating outside. The cafeteria is for eating. Outside food attracts wild dogs.”

  Doreen gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look, which he returned with an I’m-serious-as-death look.21 So she went inside into a bathroom stall, let her cramped tail out, and put on some headphones, blasting a song so loud it rattled the thoughts in her head and almost hacked away the heavy feelings in her chest. She stayed there the rest of the period, eating her lunch next to a toilet.

  Doreen’s mom had homeschooled her for most of elementary school, which had been okay and all, but Doreen had started to get really, really, really, really, really, really lonely.

  But maybe being lonely would be better than this?

  She turned the music up even louder. She needed something good today. One good thing could undo so much bad. Doreen believed that like she believed in salted caramel nut clusters. And she believed in salted caramel nut clusters a whole, whole lot.

  TIPPY-TOE

  “Sorry,” she’d said.

  Humans never apologized to squirrels. They barely said sorry to each other.

  But this red-furred human girl with inexplicably strong haunches had apologized to me.

  And then there was that business with the delicious cashew in the metal box that I should have known was a trap. Inexcusable. When are there ever delicious cashews just lying around in metal boxes? Never, that’s when. I’d been careless, distracted by the human-girl business.

  And yet…she saved my life. Tore open that cage with her bare hands. Plus she smelled a little like my dear, departed mother.

  Mom always said folks were scared of things they didn’t understand. And being scared of things is not something I do. I most certainly did not understand that girl, but I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

  I tailed her all the way to one of those large cages humans call homes before I came to my senses. I went back to the park, killed a few acorn weevils, found a perfectly good half-a-sandwich inside a discarded plastic bag. Turkey. On rye. Whenever I get bird meat, I like to eat it in the open, let the falcons and hawks see who the boss is.

  Me. I’m the boss.

  And yet…despite sandwiches and weevils I couldn’t distract myself.

  One night later I was back in the tree beside her house. Perched there in the branches, peering through the glass that separated her world from mine.

  Much quicker than I was expecting, she spotted me. As fast as a squirrel, the window slid open.
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  “Hey, friend,” the girl called from the window. No human should have been able to see me, hidden as I was in the shadows of the tree.

  “Is that you from the park?” she asked. “You okay?”

  I took a few steps into the light. I was definitely not afraid. I’m never afraid. Cautious? Certainly. Startled? Alarmed? From time to time. On rare occasions panicked, intimidated, or even horrified. But never, ever afraid.

  “What’s your name? I’m Doreen. We just moved here.”

  Something large and furry swooshed behind the girl, and I froze. If this girl had a dog, we were done. No matter that she saved my life, no matter that she smelled like Mom.

  Doreen leaned out the window, and I gasped.

  “Is that a tail?” I whispered.

  She laughed, and the tail twitched back and forth in just the way any squirrel’s would when she was laughing.

  “It is,” Doreen said. “What did you think it was?”

  Had she understood me?

  “A dog,” I said cautiously. But definitely not afraid.

  She snorted another laugh, and the sound made me smile.

  “C’mere,” she said, beckoning me forward with a claw. Or a finger, rather. “I shouldn’t be flaunting my tail near a window where people might see. I want to give you something.”

  She backed away, and I scampered to the sill, no farther. Humans don’t go in our trees, we don’t go in their houses. This is how squirrels and humans keep our uneasy peace. Because believe me, we could find ways in. We could strip their cupboards bare while they sleep. But squirrels are creatures of honor and respect.

  Doreen returned with a pale pink ribbon. It wasn’t one of those shiny fake human colors. It was the color of new strawberries or the paws of an infant squirrel.

  “You are my first friend in this place,” she said. “Thanks for coming to see me. I really needed today to not be all horrible.”

  Doreen tied the ribbon into a bow around my neck, and never once was I afraid. When she’d finished, she stepped back, smiling.

  “You look fantastic, um…what was your name?”

  “Tippy-Toe,” I said.

  “Great name. You look fantastic, Tippy-Toe,” she said.

  Human noise sounded from somewhere deeper in the house.

  Doreen sighed. “I gotta go. Talk tomorrow?”

  “Yes, actually,” I said, leaping back onto the branch. My heart was beating fast. I felt like a newborn pup, excited by every new thing: a fresh acorn, a fallen leaf. A new friend.

  Doreen shut the window and turned off the light. My own reflection looked back at me from the darkened glass, and I saw the ribbon expertly tied around my neck.

  She was right.

  I did look fantastic.

  DOREEN

  At lunch the next day, Doreen returned to the cafeteria and stood in front of Ana Sofía until she looked up from her math textbook.

  “Hey, do you speak American Sign Language?” Doreen asked.

  “What?” said Ana Sofía.

  Doreen spoke aloud and signed at the same time. “I spent a few hours last night brushing up on my sign language, just in case you speak it.”

  Ana Sofía’s expression was frozen halfway between What-the-heck and Imma-gonna-just-run-away-now.

  “One of my Canadian cousins speaks sign language,” said Doreen, signing the words she knew, “and when I lived near them I used to sign all the time with his family. But it’s true what they say: ‘use it or lose it.’ They also say, ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade,’ which I never understood, because what’s wrong with lemons to begin with?”22

  Ana Sofía’s eyes widened even wider.

  “You honestly spent hours practicing Sign last night?” she asked.

  Doreen nodded.

  Ana Sofía frowned. She looked down at her textbook. “I’ve always hated that lemons saying, too. My mom cross-stitches platitudes on throw pillows. Makes me want to punch them.”

  She looked up. She was still frowning, but her eyes weren’t into it.

  “Sometimes I want to punch things, too!”23 said Doreen, happy to have found something in common with Ana Sofía. Doreen smiled. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Can I sit down?” she signed.

  Ana Sofía pushed a chair away from the table with her foot and gestured grandly to it. Doreen sat.

  “You’re okay with Sign,” Ana Sofía said aloud. “Well, you’re not terrible. But I’m not fluent in it either. My family is hearing and they don’t sign, and my friend who I used to sign with moved away, so whatever.”

  “Moving away stinks,” said Doreen, doing her best to sign the sentiment.

  Ana Sofía wrinkled her nose, not understanding. So they exchanged phone numbers and started texting instead.

  DOREEN

  Moving away stinks

  ANA SOFÍA

  The worst

  DOREEN

  I don’t get it. You’re bilingual and bionic

  She looked up from her phone to gesture to Ana Sofía’s hearing aids.

  DOREEN

  And yet you’re sitting by yourself it makes no sense.

  ANA SOFÍA

  Actually I’m trilingual hablo español

  DOREEN

  SEE? Also you smell really good not to be weird but I’ve got a good nose

  ANA SOFÍA

  My mom makes homemade soap

  Ana Sofía rolled her eyes as if she thought this was another obnoxious maternal habit.

  Doreen leaned back with exasperated joy.

  DOREEN

  Are you kidding? I’ve never met anyone who made homemade soap u just get more interesting. Clearly we’re best friends now that’s a relief cause I was wasting so much time looking for you

  Ana Sofía frowned at her phone. “Um…I don’t do best friends.”

  “No?” Doreen frowned, too. “But…we’re definitely friends, right?”

  “Let’s not be hasty.”

  “Okay.” Doreen was certain they’d officially be friends by the end of lunch. End of day, tops. She took a big bite of her almond-butter sandwich. With her mouth full, she tried to speak, but Ana Sofía shook her head.

  DOREEN

  What else is interesting in town

  ANA SOFÍA

  Nothing. Shady oaks is a disaster

  DOREEN

  Impossible there’s that big park

  ANA SOFÍA

  Yeah but u try to hang out there u risk wrath of larpers or soccer moms or crazy dogs

  DOREEN

  ???

  ANA SOFÍA

  A pack of crazy feral dogs wander around growling and biting

  DOREEN

  What do they eat

  ANA SOFÍA

  Garbage I guess cause it’s everywhere. FYI if someone paints graffiti on your house just leave it. If you paint over it they’ll do more the next night

  DOREEN

  Who will?

  “I’ve heard it’s mostly a group of guys from the high school,” Ana Sofía said aloud. “They call themselves the Skunk Club—I know that sounds made-up, but I kid you not. Shady Oaks is an unincorporated township. Which, as far as I can tell, means that we don’t have police of our own. Any time there’s a problem, we have to wait for county police to come, so I guess that makes criminals bolder or whatever. It wasn’t always this bad. I’ve been keeping track, and it’s definitely gotten worse.” Ana Sofía took out a notebook and paged through hundreds of notes and observations. “About two years ago, there was a spike in thefts of electronics, bicycles, that sort of thing. I’m beginning to suspect that the increased overall crime is in reaction to the initial spike in thefts. If I could only figure out who the original source is…”

  DOREEN

  Wow you’ve like srsly gone to town on this

  ANA SOFÍA

  I kinda like mysteries do you think that’s stupid?

  DOREEN

  No I think that’s awesome

  Doreen d
idn’t care much for mysteries. She preferred nuts. But if Ana Sofía liked mysteries, she was interested for her newly declared BFF’s sake.

  DOREEN

  Hey there was a bizarro squirrel trap in the park that was straight off the death star with a squishing wall and everything

  “I haven’t heard about anything like that.” Ana Sofía jotted that new info down in the notebook.

  “There was a marking on it, looked like two Ms.”

  “Interesting,” Ana Sofía said, adding that note. “FYI, don’t even bother riding a bike to school.”

  “Or it’ll get stolen?” Doreen signed and said.

  “Yeah, and say good-bye to the stereo in your parents’ car.”

  Doreen signed something to show disgust at the situation.

  Ana Sofía pressed her lips together, as if surprised by an unfamiliar desire to smile. “That’s a swearword.”

  “Are you serious? But Ben says it all the time! Maybe it’s not a swearword in Canada.”

  “Or maybe Ben is just naughty,” she said with a short laugh.

  A boy took a seat across the table from them. He had very light skin and light brown hair. In Los Angeles he’d probably be tanned and blond, but here he looked pale and sallow, like maybe he spent most of his time in basements.24

  “Who’s your friend?” Doreen asked.

  “That’s Mike,” said Ana Sofía.

  Doreen tried not to be disappointed by his name, but she’d made her first friend named Mike when she’d been, like, three years old, and was hoping for a more unique name. If only Mike were short for Michaelmas or Microphone or Mikearooni or something.