The Thing Under the Porch
1Let me make one thing clear: I did not invite the skunk. One morning in May, I found a hole the size of a dinner plate under our back porch, and by June our lawn looked like someone had attacked it with a spoon. There were little holes everywhere. My little sister Pia was thrilled. She named the skunk Lady Clementine. I named it the Striped Menace.
2Pia borrowed every book about skunks from the school library. At dinner she shared her facts whether anyone asked or not. "Skunks sleep during the day and come out at night," she said. "And she's digging up grubs. Grubs eat the roots of our grass, so really, she's helping our lawn." "Helping," I said, "the way a bulldozer helps a flower bed." Pia did not think that was funny.
3Pia also said that a skunk does not spray right away. "First she stamps her front feet and lifts her tail," she told me. "That means back off. If you walk away slowly, she usually won't spray." I rolled my eyes. I did not plan to get close enough to need a lesson.
4Then came the night of the soccer ball. I had left it by the porch steps, and Coach makes anyone who forgets a ball run extra laps. So at dusk I tiptoed into the yard. I was reaching for the ball when the Striped Menace burst out from under the porch and charged straight at me.
5It was terrifying. The monster stopped a few feet away, glared at me with its beady eyes, and began to pound the ground with its front feet like a tiny, furious drummer. Its huge tail shot up into the air. I was sure I was about to smell like a skunk for the rest of fifth grade.
6Somehow I remembered Pia's words. I held my breath and took one slow step back, then another. The skunk lowered its tail. It sniffed the air, turned around, and waddled off toward the bushes as if I were not worth the trouble. I grabbed the ball and ran inside.
7Pia was waiting by the back door. "Did Lady Clementine warn you, Theo?" she asked. "She attacked me," I said. Then I thought about it. She had stamped. She had waited. She had let me walk away. "Okay," I admitted. "Maybe she warned me. Maybe she was just as scared as I was." Pia grinned. I still call her the Striped Menace, though. Mostly.