Netties Quest - Any Subject Books

Nettie’s Quest
A middle-grade novella
by
Clare Mishica
A winner of the 2014 Highlights for Children Fiction contest
Dedication
I would like to thank my husband, Gary, for always providing the encouragement
to take the time to write no matter what is happening around me.
Clare Mishica
Contents
Chapter 1 - Bat Games ................................................................................................ 1
Chapter 2 - The Wish .................................................................................................. 7
Chapter 3 - Bit and Bram ......................................................................................... 10
Chapter 4 - Where the Wind Blows ........................................................................ 16
Chapter 5 - The Fame Game .................................................................................... 22
Chapter 6 - An Underground Bridge ..................................................................... 28
Chapter 7 - Once Upon a Time ............................................................................... 34
Chapter 8 - Helping Hands and Paws ................................................................... 41
Chapter 9 - The Nose Knows .................................................................................. 49
Chapter 10 - The Homecoming ............................................................................... 55
Chapter 11 - Cleo's Plan ........................................................................................... 61
Chapter 12 - Nettie's Crusade ................................................................................. 66
Chapter 13 - Trapped ............................................................................................... 68
Chapter 14 - Starting Over ....................................................................................... 72
About the Author ...................................................................................................... 75
Chapter 1. BAT GAMES
Nettie's tongue flicked a speck of dust from her belly as she imagined herself doing
a loop the loop and capturing a gigantic luna moth. She flew as gracefully as Swallow
when he swooped from the eaves of the barn in the hazy dawn. Next, she licked her
thumb and cleaned one leathery ear. She'd already given herself two bat baths, but she
wanted to stay busy. She was trying to fill up the hollow ache in her heart because every
thump seemed to say, "She's gone. She's gone. She's gone."
Three weeks ago, Nettie's mother left to hunt for bugs near an old fire tower with
her friend Squeaks, but she did not return. An owl had made a nest in the abandoned
lookout perched on top of the tall posts. Squeaks said they were flitting through the steps
when the gray-feathered bird swooped down from the tower's roof and swept towards
them on silent, whispery wings. Taken by surprise, Squeaks barely escaped with his life,
but Nettie's mother was not so lucky.
For the past month, Nettie had no one to listen to her daydreams or snuggle with on
the rafter in the attic of the old house. She had no one to tell her stories or to cheer for her
during the bat games. Nettie cleaned her ear one more time and combed out a tangle of fur
near her wing. A moment later, a big bat named Cleo yawned and stretched. She was the
leader of the colony, the Big Bat Boss.
"Tonight, we'll have a slalom race," announced Cleo as the furry bodies tucked in
the rafters stirred and came to life.
"The… the… slalom?" stuttered Nettie with a shudder. She hated the slalom. The
bats zigzagged in and out of the fence posts circling the nearby meadow like downhill
skiers weaving through mazes of flags. But the bats had to avoid barbed wire, too. Last
week, Nettie nicked her wing when a gust of wind gave her an unfriendly push. The barbs
bit into her soft skin with their needle sharp teeth, and she remembered their stinging
touch.
"Want to race to the pond instead?" she whispered to a bat named Whipper. "We
can be swallows and fly in loops. And the cattails don't bite like the barbed wire."
"We're bats, not birds," Whipper grumbled, crawling away from her. Nettie had the
strangest ideas.
"Tonight, I'll show the winner where to catch some giant moths," promised Cleo,
loosening her grip on the highest rafter.
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Cleo liked giving out prizes, and her charming manner soon made a bat feel like he
was her best friend. She insisted Squeaks tell her a joke or Whipper show her how to make
a sharp turn or Benton demonstrate his daring dive. Before long, the bats tumbled over
themselves to please her.
Nettie watched as the bats began clicking and squeaking, and before long, a river of
furry bodies pushed and shoved each other aside as they scrambled towards the rotted
holes beneath the eaves of the old house. It stood on a quiet street at the very edge of
town, with meadows and forests stretching out behind it.
Nettie watched them and waited. She wasn't in a hurry to go because she usually
finished last. But maybe tonight she'd finally fly fast enough to get in the top ten—that
would be wonderful! She stretched her wings out and gazed at them—they did look a little
bigger than two days ago. Nettie remembered what her mother had told her. Whenever
Nettie complained that she couldn't catch a big moth or swerve around a tree, her mother
always replied, "not yet." Yet was Nettie's favorite word. When you added it to the word
not it changed everything. It meant that she would swerve around a tree one day. She
would catch a big moth one day. It might take a week or a month or a year, but it would
happen one day if she didn't give up. That spark of hope finally pushed Nettie out into the
waiting arms of the dusky twilight.
Dozens of bats flitted in the northern Michigan summer night. A soft rosy glow
outlined the horizon, reaching up into the purple velvet sky with fuzzy pink fingers. Pines
stood like guards at the north edge of the meadow, and fireflies glimmered like stardust
sprinkled above the swaying grasses. Near the south edge of the field, some craggy old
apple trees showed off lacy dresses of white frilly blossoms, and a fawn left its warm bed,
tucked in the daisies beneath their branches, to follow its mother towards the pond. The
round pool of water nestled in the heart of the meadow like a glimmering pearl in the soft
moonlight. It was ringed with cattails and lily pads, and from its edges, a thunderous
chorus of spring peepers filled the night air. Peepa-peepa-peepa they sang, only stopping
once to catch their breath when a fat skunk disturbed them by chasing a bullfrog into the
water.
The bats flew in and out of the fence posts ringing the meadow, whizzing between
the strands of wire. Nettie flapped her wings, gracefully changing their shape with her
slender fingers as she turned. Soft breezes ruffled her fur as she darted through the wires,
and clouds of cottony fluffs carrying aspen seeds drifted through the air like bits of
springtime snow.
Nettie continued swerving up and down, gliding through the course like a silky
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ripple across the water. Her heart pounded as she tried to go faster, but dark blurs passed
her in batches of twos and threes.
"Bella won tonight," declared Cleo as Nettie flitted up to join the bats in the limbs of
a tall pine. "You lucky bat—I'll show you my top spot."
Nettie's heart thundered in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. She listened as
Cleo praised Bella's swift speed and quick turns, and for a moment, she let herself imagine
that Cleo was talking about her. She proudly thrust her wings out for the other bats to
admire and flapped them just a bit.
"Nettie's back," Benton noticed from the limb above, and Nettie's wings drooped.
The bats knew when she arrived the race was over. Butterfly could beat me, Nettie thought,
defeated. Mosquito could beat me.
"Breakfast time," said Cleo, and the bats clicked and squeaked. After napping all
day, their stomachs rumbled, and the warm, humid night hummed with insects. Those
buzzing, stinging clouds sent the humans scurrying indoors, but for the bats it was a feast.
Nettie took a deep breath and fluttered through the branches, inching closer and
closer to Cleo. Last night, she'd made a spectacular discovery, and she was sure it would
change everything—soon the whole bat colony would think she was the most remarkable
bat. She couldn't wait to give Cleo the great news.
"Cleo," Nettie spoke up, "I found a top spot. A place where the bugs are so thick,
you can catch thirty in a swoop. Maybe forty! Maybe a hundred! Maybe a million!"
Cleo didn't hear her, and Nettie took another deep breath, determined to get Cleo's
attention. Her wings trembled with excitement as she thought about how surprised Cleo
would be. She could already imagine Squeaks asking her to go for a fly or Whipper
hanging next to her at night. The very idea made her words blurt out in a loud squeaky
rush. "Cleo-I-found-a-top-spot-a-hundred-million-jillion-bugs!"
This time Cleo heard, and she stared at the tiny bat. "Is this another one of your
daydreams?"
"No, it's for real!" Nettie insisted, and her sentences kept tumbling out on top of
each other. "I got mixed up flying back the other night—actually I got lost—because I saw
some twinkling lights and I thought they might be magic fairies but they turned out to be
ordinary fireflies and. . ."
"Does this story have an ending?" interrupted Cleo.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" answered Nettie. "I found a light so big it looks like a moon stuck on
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a pole, and the bugs fly around it in a thick gray thundercloud."
"All right," Cleo said, turning towards the closest bunch of bats. "Nettie says that she
found a top spot where the bugs are as thick as a cloud."
"Nettie?" chuckled the bats. "A top spot? Is this another story?"
Nettie ignored their laughter and swooped into the sky. She was too excited to hang
still a moment longer, and she wanted to show them what one little bat could do. She
hoped she could remember which willow tree to turn by. "It's not very far. Come on."
After a moment's hesitation, Cleo winged after her. After all, it wouldn't take long
to check her story out. The rest of the bat colony followed, too, and a long black line
zigzagged across the sky behind Nettie.
Nettie raced over the meadow and towards the outskirts of town. She turned by a
giant weeping willow and flitted down a grassy lane towards a large square shadow that
loomed up in the dark like a gigantic cardboard box.
"We're almost there," she squeaked as the shadow turned into a brick building. A
globe-shaped light in the front attracted hordes of insects into the circle of its glow. "See!"
shouted Nettie. "It's a real place! I told you it was a top spot."
"This is great," agreed Cleo. She swooped down in a graceful arch and captured a
huge moth in the webby net between her legs. After reaching down to bite it, she landed
on a nearby branch to eat her prize.
"Deeeelicous!" laughed another bat, gobbling up swarms of mosquitoes.
The bats darted and glided around the island of light, like hundreds of kites
bobbing on strings. Gracefully, they swooped through the curtain of insects, neatly
avoiding the wall of the building and the garbage cans stacked against it. Their ultrasonic
clicking sounds bounced back to their ears like radar blips, warning them of any problems.
Nettie chomped on a moth, hardly able to eat. After tonight, she'd be famous!
They'd probably make a place for her right in the middle of the rafters. Maybe they'd even
fight over who got to hang by her! She was blissfully imagining that scene when tragedy
struck. Someone opened the door to the building.
Unfortunately, at that same moment, Cleo swooped toward the entrance. Her
clicking sounds told her there was an open space in front of her, so she flew inside.
Immediately, frantic screams and panicked shouts split the lazy, quiet night. The bat
had not been invited to the Rudebacher's fiftieth anniversary party, and not one person
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appreciated her arrival. Cleo landed on a curtain, her heart pounding. She had no way of
knowing that Great Aunt Ruthie had immediately wrapped herself in its striped fabric to
hide. Neither did Uncle Rupert until he attempted to smack Cleo with a broom.
Aunt Ruthie screamed as the broom whacked her and the shrill sound shot Cleo
into the air like a bullet. It probably saved her life, for the next whack landed squarely on
the spot where she'd perched a second before.
Cleo raced around the room, avoiding the broom, and a mop, too, being used to
knock her from the air. Her wings ached and her muscles strained, but she knew she
couldn't land. At least a moving target was harder to hit.
Streamers and balloons were yanked down around Cleo like ribbons being ripped
from Christmas packages. The five-layer cake tumbled from its table, and Grandpa Joe
caught the top, where a plastic bluebird of happiness sang from a candy sugar tree. All
around Cleo, punch glasses toppled and exploded like fruit juice bombs, and her heart
pounded with a terror she'd never experienced before. She flew lower, feeling the
throbbing of her tired muscles, and the sting of a towel snapped at her tail.
Then, miraculously, a swirl of night air reached out to Cleo like an invisible life
preserver, and she darted through the current. Eight-year-old Elizabeth Rudebacher
opened the door to free a moth she'd found trapped inside and saved Cleo's life.
That night as the bats flew back to the colony, Cleo said little. The big bat had never
felt such a numbing fear or lost so much control. Ever since she was born, Cleo considered
herself special. She was the fastest bat, sailing through the air like Hawk, and she was the
smartest bat, too, figuring out puzzles like Fox and finding more bugs than Woodpecker
with his fancy bill. She was a superior bat—and no one was going to ruin her reputation.
Especially not some scruffy little scrap of fur like Nettie.
"I…I… I didn't know about the door," Nettie stammered as they crawled back to
their roosts. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry," sputtered Cleo. She blamed the whole harrowing incident on Nettie. "You
know how crazed humans are about bats! Why didn't you just lock me inside a room with
a horde of owls? It would have been safer! Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Of course not," Nettie stammered. "That would be horrible! Awful! Terrible! I
would never, ever, ever do that. You have to believe me," she gasped, backing away from
Cleo's angry attack. She searched the clumps of bats roosting nearby to see if anyone
would give her a tiny space to squeeze into or an understanding glance, but the bats
concentrated on cleaning their fur, and they carefully ignored her. Not even Squeaks
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would give her a wink. "You have to believe me. . ." she said softly one last time, but no
one flapped a wing.
Finally, Nettie flitted over to the rafter on the far, far wall and hung quietly by
herself, a tiny black smudge on the wood. There were no more silly daydreams running
through her mind. Not one.
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Chapter 2. THE WISH
Cleo's near brush with death made her unforgiving and spiteful. She'd never admit
it had been her own mistake to fly into the bright light. She blamed Nettie and made sure
everyone understood that.
When Nettie swooped near her rafter one morning, she said, "Your fur looks like a
patch of dirty carpet. I think a moth would spit it out."
The other bats laughed nervously and avoided glancing in Nettie's direction. Cleo
usually oozed with charm, but some of the bats had suffered from her biting tongue, and
they didn't want to risk falling out of her favor again. Their laughter was like an insurance
policy that kept their names off her list.
Cleo told Nettie her brain was the size of a mosquito's toe and that she smelled like
the rotting garbage heaped in the compost pile in the backyard. The sight of Nettie was
like a thistle tangled in a patch of her fur. Cleo wanted to yank it out and toss it away.
Nettie quickly became skilled at avoiding Cleo. She found a crevice near a rafter in
the far corner. It was near the old brick chimney which extended through the attic and
kindly hid her from view. But she was lonelier than ever before.
"Do you know any good stories?" she asked the fat black spider that lived in the
web nearby.
"I have to wrap a fly for dinner and make some web repairs," answered Spider. "I
don't have time for idle conversation. Words don't get the job done."
Nettie sighed and peeked through the knothole below her. It opened into a boy's
bedroom, and he often watched shows about animals on a talking box. Sometimes, he
spread his baseball cards on the bed, and Nettie tried helping him when she spotted one
that slipped on the floor.
"Look under your rug," she squeaked, but she didn't speak Human very well, and
the boy couldn't hear or understand Bat. Most often, Nettie hung in her hiding spot and
listened to the shows.
The sounds from the television drifted over her, and the muffled voices were
soothing, like the heavy drone of bees in a purple clover patch. She let the snippets fill her
head and send her imagination flying off to places where Cleo's bad temper couldn't
reach. When she heard about hummingbirds flying backwards, she imagined herself
performing that stunt—right in the middle of a bug-catching frenzy.
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"Look! Look at Nettie!" Whipper would scream. Then the whole colony would stop and
watch. Squeaks might fly into the house, he'd be so busy staring! Pretty soon everyone would beg,
"Please, Nettie, show us how to do that."
One night, she heard about a bird called an albatross. It could fly without flapping
its wings. Nettie imagined herself floating gracefully through the velvet night
without moving a muscle. The first bat she'd glide by would be Cleo. She'd show
her how amazing her wings could be even if they were the smallest pair in the colony.
"Nettie, how do you do that?" Cleo would plead, and her eyes would look like round marbles
bulging out of her furry head.
The idea made Nettie giggle, but only Spider heard, and he was much too busy
enlarging his web to stop and ask any questions.
Everything Nettie heard she turned into dreams that took her all over the world.
She swam in the ocean with Dolphin, she explored a volcano that spit lava, and she hid in
the rainforest under a mango tree. But she had no one to tell about her adventures except
Spider, and he was weaving a triple decker web. While her hiding spot kept Nettie safe
from Cleo, the silent loneliness was turning into the hardest punishment of all.
Often, the boy in the bedroom stayed up late, and after he shut the television off, the
bats heard his window open with a noisy clatter. Usually, they were taking off into the late
summer twilight at that time, but his voice drifted out on the wisps of summer breezes,
fragrant with apple blossoms. He made the same wish every night:
"Star bright, star light, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the
wish I wish tonight. Oh, please send me a dog to be my very own."
"Who would wish for a dog?" laughed Cleo, swooping out from under the eaves.
"They are such noisy, yappy creatures, and they can't fly. Only a human would want one."
The other bats agreed as they stretched and yawned and pushed and shoved
towards the holes in the eaves. They seldom argued with Cleo's logic. With clicks and
squeaks, their furry bodies exploded from the attic like a school full of children when the
last bell rings.
But Nettie recognized the little quiver she heard in the boy's voice. It said much
more than his words, and you didn't need to speak Human to understand it. He wanted a
friend. One that wasn't busy building webs big enough to catch a bird or one that didn't
mind flying in loops like a swallow. A friend who would love you no matter how little or
big or smart you might be.
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Maybe the boy knew something about stars that Nettie didn't. She'd never tried
wishing on one. She didn't know exactly how it worked, but, in case a star could really
help, Nettie began sending her own wish upward as she dived after mosquitoes. She
listened to the nearby bats joke and laugh, and she pleaded with the twinkling lights to
send her any kind of friend. Even a daddy long legs would do—at least they didn't spin
webs.
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