Excellent A first book chapter Lennox (The Fourth) by jackie rae A First Book Chapter contest entry

Chapter One I found a mouse today. I have big plans for him. Or maybe he’s a girl? I’ll have to investigate later. Right now, I need to get him up to my bedroom and hide him. My mother is quite used to my odd requests but I have no doubt that she will disprove of me bringing home a dead mouse. She will talk about diseases and I don’t know what else. Maybe maggots? If he gets maggots, I don’t think I’ll want him anymore. Maybe I will? No, probably not.  I’ll still give him a proper burial though. But not today. Today he is coming home with me to be my tiny little friend. I heard my mom tell my babysitter a few years ago that I was a quirky child. I looked over at her face to see what she meant. She looked very happy with the idea that I was quirky. I said the word in my head a few times. Quirky, quirky, quirky. I guess that’s not so bad. Now I am nine and still remember that day clearly. I wonder if knowing that she believes me quirky makes me more quirky or if she saw something in me that I hadn’t seen yet. Now the word quirky fits me like a glove. My mom says if something fits you like a glove it means that it is a perfect fit. I told her that makes no sense. If you put a large glove on a small hand wouldn’t it still fit like a glove? It wouldn’t fit like a mitten. She told me that I should try to stop taking every comment so literally. I haven’t quite figured out how to do that yet. Maybe quirky fits me like a glove that is slightly too big for my hand. I have asked for a pet three times. Each time, my parents have said that I am too young to take care of an animal and I should ask when I am a little older. I used to ask for a brother or sister all the time. I avoid that question now because I don’t want to see my mom’s eyes fill up with tears. When I was 5, I didn’t know that watery eyes meant you were close to crying.  I don’t cry. My mom says I never have. She said the doctors were worried about it when I was born.  Sometimes I moan, if the pain in my body hurts too much, but my eyes don’t water. My Aunt Penny says that not crying is my super power. I told her that I’d rather a more useful super power, like being invisible. She laughed very hard at that, but I was serious. The cat down the street looked confused when the mouse died. Her name is Rosie. She’s never let me pet her or get close enough to read her collar, but I heard her owner call her into the house one day. That’s how I learned her name and her gender. I don’t think Rosie meant to kill him. She seemed to think it was a fun game to catch the mouse and then let him go again, only to pounce on him again when he tried to flee. If I had realized sooner what the she was playing with, I’m sure I could have saved him.  I wonder how long I watched her pouncing around in her driveway. I feel my stomach clench and I think I might throw up. It’s very similar to the sensation that I feel when I lie. That’s how I know that I was supposed to save the mouse. God must have sent me there to save the mouse and I failed. Now he is punishing me with a sore tummy. I look down to my little mouse, that I didn’t rescue in time. He’s perfect. His eyes are black. Right after I got him away from the cat I pushed his elelids over his eyes. When I opened them again he looked less scared. I’ve stopped at 8 benches to sit down. There’s 2 more benches before my house. I like to sit on each bench and count to 10. I prefer to count out loud. I used to count to 13. Once when I was almost home (I was on bench number 10), a bus stopped to pick me up. The bus driver told me that it was confusing for me to sit at the bus stop if I didn’t want on the bus. That’s when I realized that I probably had the number wrong. Ever since that day I have been counting to ten. I don’t know why I didn’t realize before, there are 10 benches, so of course, I should be counting to 10. I have not confused any bus drivers since that day. I’m glad I figured it out. At bench number 7, I tried to shut my new friends eyes for him again, but they wouldn’t shut. I guess he’ll have to be awake forever. That’s probably not that bad. Sleeping is boring and seems to be a complete waste of time. He has grey fur, a tiny little pinkish nose and cute little rounded ears. His feet are a light coral colour. I think probably all 4 are called feet but I’m going to call the ones closest to his face, hands. His tail is much longer than I expected but I’m not sure what length I thought it would be.  I’m going to call him Arthur or Pete, or maybe Lennox? We’ll have to come back to his name as well. Determine the gender of my mouse Pick a name I can’t wait to make him a bed. I have two different rooms in my doll house. One has a bed that will fit him perfectly. I try to recall the size of the bed. It might be a bit too big but that is better than too small, I imagine. He’s also going to need clothes. He’ll need outfits for every season. I’m excited to use my scraps of material to start his cute little wardrobe. Maybe a fancy tux for the balls he is sure to attend. And bow ties! He’ll for sure need those. I learned to sew using a needle and thread last year at summer camp. I remember thinking it was a skill I didn’t need and would never use again. Boy was I wrong!  He’s going to love his new life in my doll house. I’m almost sure of it. I guess he can be Lennox for now. In my mind, he is male, as well. He has yet to voice any disproval. He can always change his name or gender later. I heard my parents saying that they encourage kids to change their genders in schools now. Personally, my teachers have never mentioned it. The first time I heard you were allowed to decide if you were a boy or a girl, was at our kitchen table. My dad said they were talking about it on the news. He called it an epidemic. I looked up epidemic later and learned it means a widespread occurrence of an infectious disease. I haven’t quite figured out yet how choosing you want to be a different gender is like catching the flu. When I heard you could change your gender, it surprised me just about as much, as when I heard you could marry a boy or girl no matter what sex you were. It had never occurred to me that I could marry a girl. The whole choosing your gender thing intrigues me though. Was I meant to be a boy but somehow God made a mistake? I really like boys better than girls. Does that mean I was supposed to be one? I think I might want to kiss a boy though, so I guess that might make me a girl after all. And dresses, I like dresses. Another clue that points towards girl.   “Guess what Lennox?” I whispered into his tiny ear, “your life is about to get much better! You’ll have me to talk to and I’m going to set you up in a mansion. And you’re in luck, there will be no cats to disturb you, in your new home.” I reached the sidewalk in front of my house. I stared up at my house frozen in place. I slowly counted in my head to 13. It is 13 steps to my house, so before walking up the sidewalk I always count to 13. Then I walk the 13 steps to the house. I used to count out loud, but my mom told me to stop. I didn’t stop though. Now, instead of counting out loud, I count in my head. It’s really no big deal. I rarely lose count and have to start over. The only time I lose count is when my mom is with me and asks if I am counting. I tell her that I am not, and then I start over. I hate lying about the counting. One time my aunt lied to my mom and said that we hadn’t gone for ice cream. I immediately blurted out that she was lying. We had, in fact, gone for ice cream.   My mom was mad at her sister and said if she couldn’t follow the rules, she wouldn’t be able to see me. I got very worried that I had ruined my trips out with Aunt Penny. I love going on adventures with my aunt. Aunt Penny laughed in my mom’s face and told her to calm down, it was only a little white lie. My eyes widened at this. Every time my dad tells my mom to calm down, she gets even angrier. I kind of want to point it out to him but I’m never sure if he will laugh at me or yell. I turned to look up into my mom’s face. To my surprise she started to laugh. My Aunt Penny always gets my mom laughing. I have no idea how she does it.   On my next outing with my Aunt Penny, I asked what she meant by “little white lie”.  She said little white lies are lies that don’t hurt anybody. This made me feel much better about lying about the counting. I finished counting in my head and then walked the 13 steps to my house. I don’t count those steps anymore. It never changes. I step on each crack in the sidewalk. A girl in my school told me that stepping on the cracks, meant I was going to break my mother’s back. I explained to her that her theory was outrageous. If it were true, I would have broken my mom’s back 96 times, that day alone. She has not said a word to me since. I reached the house and tucked Lennox behind my back. I plan on silently sneaking up the stairs to my room undetected. My mom came out of the kitchen just as I was about to take the first step. Fun fact: it’s also 13 steps to my bedroom. “Oh good, Izzy, you’re home. I was starting to get worried. What are you holding behind your back?” I froze. Frantically, I try to decide if lying about the mouse is a little white lie. Does it hurt anyone? The mouse already died. But what if the mouse is diseased, then I guess that could hurt me. I’m willing to risk it though. Could anyone else get hurt? Before I have a chance to weigh the possibilities, my mom grabbed my hand to inspect its contents. Her eyes widened bigger than I have ever seen. “Ew, ew! Isabelle Jane, throw that away right now! And wash your hands. What in the world am I going to do with you?” Under her watchful eye, I slowly shuffle my feet to the garbage. I don’t even count my steps. For the first time in my life, I can feel tears starting to pool in my eyes. This is not a proper burial at all. “I’m sorry Lennox” I whisper. My hand clenches his little body as if unwilling to do as it has been commanded. He feels much stiffer than when I first picked him up. Perfectly preserved in my sweaty palm. My mom walked up behind me and unclenched my fist. I watched as Lennox’s hard little body dropped soundlessly onto the bed of coffee grounds my father had thrown out this morning. She wrenched my hand over to the sink so hard that I felt pain start in my shoulder and shoot down my arm. She poured a massive amount of dish soap into my hands. I have never seen her use this much soap. As she turned on the water to start rinsing my hands I looked her right in the eyes. “Are you crying?” she exclaimed. I have never felt this much anger towards my mother in my whole life. In this moment, I want her to feel as much pain as I am feeling. Before I even know what is happening, I hear the words come out of my mouth, “I want to be a boy.”

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