Possum Summer

When my little brother, Turtle, blew out the six candles on his birthday cake, I knew exactly what he wished for: a kitty. 

Not because he told everyone. Grandpa nicknamed him Turtle because he’s the shyest kid in Wewahitchka, Florida. But Turtle loved animals, and he’d wanted a kitty forever. Mama and Dad said he was too young to take care of one, but I was sure they just didn’t want an animal in the house.

A few nights later, when I came home from dance class, Turtle called to me from the yard. “Magnolia! Come see!” 

Like usual, I didn’t pay him any mind. Turtle’s five years younger than me, so we don’t have much in common.

“My birthday wish came true!”

I sighed. It was probably a rock shaped like a cat. I crossed the yard and peered over his shoulder. Curled in his lap was something with bristly gray-and-white fur. “What’s that?”

He smiled real big. “A kitty!”

I bent down for a closer look. The creature raised its head and studied me with beady black eyes. Its long, pointy snout twitched. Then I saw its tail: long, pink, hairless.

“Turtle, that’s a POSSUM.”

Turtle shrugged. “So?”

Ugh! My brother was so weird.

“It’s a wild animal,” I told him. “It might hurt you!”

Turtle frowned. “Kitty would never hurt me.”

As if to prove him right, the possum climbed up his chest and hugged him with its little pink paws. Turtle glowed with joy.

“Mama and Dad will hit the roof if they see you with that thing,” I said. 

“Don’t tell them,” Turtle begged me.

If I didn’t tell them and they found out, I’d get in trouble . . . big trouble, because I’m older and supposed to know better. But Turtle looked so happy.

“Just for tonight,” I said. “But then we have to let it go.”

Magnolia!” Turtle woke me up the next day. “What should I feed Kitty?”

I cracked open one eye. Turtle stood over my bed, cradling the you-know-what.

“Turtle,” I whispered, so Mama and Dad wouldn’t hear us, “I don’t know anything about possums except that they have a creepy tail.”

“Let’s ask Miss Ruthie,” Turtle said, brightening. Miss Ruthie ran the Stop ’N’ Go. She was pretty much the smartest person in town. 

I sighed. How did I get roped into this? 

Turtle hid the possum inside his hoodie, and we tried to sneak out the front door. I could hear my parents in the kitchen. I thought we’d made it, when Mama stuck her head into the hall. “Where are you two going?”

“On a little walk,” I said quickly. “Before it gets hot.”

Turtle nodded eagerly. Mama looked surprised, but then she smiled. “It’s nice to see you two doing something together for a change.”

At the Stop ’N’ Go, Miss Ruthie was ringing up Josh Luckadoo and his two friends, Benny Spinks and Travis Morton. I tried to steer clear of those boys. They always made fun of kids when there was nothing to make fun of. The last thing I needed was for them to see my weird brother and his weird pet.

“Let’s wait for them to leave,” I muttered, pulling Turtle back outside. 

But it was too late.

“Hey, look, it’s Magnolia,” Josh said, coming through the door.

“What’s your brother holding?” Travis asked, walking over. 

“It’s my kitty!” Turtle answered proudly.

Now was the time for him to start talking to strangers? 

The boys burst out laughing. “That’s not a kitty,” said Benny. “What is it?”

Travis pulled at Turtle’s hoodie, trying to see the possum. 

“Stop!” I said. I could feel my cheeks getting hot.

“Weirdo!” They laughed. 

Turtle looked at me, worried. “Leave him alone,” I said. My little brother might be a weirdo, but he was my weirdo. 

Just then, the door swung open and Miss Ruthie came out. “What’s so funny out here?”

And those boys scattered like rats. 

“Miss Ruthie, what do possums eat?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No idea, darling,” she said, ducking back inside.

Dang. 

“Possums are omnivores,” a crusty voice said.

My toes curled in my sneakers. Josh Luckadoo. Why was he still here?

“They eat everything—fruit, vegetables, bugs. They love cockroaches.” 

Turtle looked up at Josh Luckadoo and . . . he actually smiled. He opened his hoodie a bit wider, revealing the possum snuggled up against his stomach.

I clenched my fists, waiting for Josh to make fun of Turtle too. Instead, Josh said, “Fine-looking possum.” He got on his bike. “They really like cat food.” 

“Can we get some cat food, Magnolia?” Turtle asked me. “Please?”

And there went my allowance. 

Back at home, the possum gobbled up cat food like it was cake. I told Turtle it was time to let it go. His lower lip quivered, and his eyes filled with tears. “But she’s my kitty,” he whispered. “We can keep her secret.”

If Mama and Dad discovered our secret, I’d get grounded for 30 years. But the possum had done something to Turtle. He was finally coming out of his shell. 

Plus, the possum was quiet. And it mostly slept during the day. At night, we would close the door of Turtle’s room and try to teach the creature tricks. So I got us some books from the library to learn everything about possums.

 “Did you know that possums are actually really clean animals?” I asked Dad one night, as we were doing the dishes. 

“Really?”

“Really,” I replied, “and technically, they’re called opossums, with an ‘o.’” 

“Why are you so interested in possums all of a sudden?” Dad asked.

I was worried I’d blown it. The last thing we needed was Dad sniffing around.

“Oh, I’m not,” I said quickly. “But Turtle is. I got some books for him.”

Dad smiled. “Your mother and I are so happy to see you doing things together. Turtle is lucky to have a big sister like you.”

Little did Dad know how lucky.

A couple of weeks later, Turtle called me out onto the porch where he’d been playing with the possum. Mama and Dad were at work. 

“Look, Magnolia. Kitty’s learning to roll over.”

“Maybe that’s how possums play dead,” I told Turtle. But I was looking at Kitty’s round belly. “When did her belly get so big?” 

Turtle stared. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s sick.”

Just then, Josh Luckadoo rode his bike out of his driveway. He lived on our street. Before I could stop him, my little brother was heading down the porch steps, carrying Kitty in his arms. 

Josh’s bike squealed to a halt. “How’s that possum?” he asked.

“Fat,” said Turtle.

Josh nodded. “Probably got a pouch full of babies.”

“Babies?!” I cried.

Josh shrugged. “Want me to take a look?”

And that is how Josh Luckadoo, the wildest boy in sixth grade, ended up in my yard. Sure enough, Kitty was a mama.

A week later, Turtle and I found a surprise: In his room, clinging to Kitty’s back, were eight little possum babies. 

“More kitties!” Turtle cried. I’d never seen him so excited.

They were cute, just as beady-eyed and pointy-nosed as their mama. 

But now we had eight more possums to hide!

Which was eight possums too many. 

The babies crawled everywhere—inside slippers, under the couch, into the dirty-clothes basket. That’s the one Dad found.

I heard a yell and a crash. I ran into the bathroom, and there was Dad pointing a finger. Mama had her hands on her hips. 

“What is THAT?”

Before I could answer, she looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Magnolia Bernice Blossom . . . ”

I shrugged. “It’s one of Kitty’s babies.”

Mama called a family meeting right away. You can guess what was at the top of the agenda.

“Magnolia, you should have known better,” Mama said.

“Get rid of them,” Dad added. 

Turtle hugged Kitty and her babies. Tears trembled on his eyelashes. 

“But Mama,” I said, “you know Turtle’s always wanted a kitty. It’s made him real happy.”

Turtle nodded, coming to stand beside me. Mama looked at both of us.

“Possums are wild animals, honey,” she said, more gently. 

Dad nodded. “They have to go.”

The next morning, someone knocked on the door. “We’re here about the possums.”

Josh Luckadoo stood on the porch with a man who looked a lot like him. A truck in the driveway said Luckadoo Wildlife Relocation. Gently, Josh and his dad loaded Kitty and her babies into a cage. “They’ll have a good home in the woods,” Mr. Luckadoo said. “That’s where they belong.”

Turtle choked back tears.

“You did a fine job taking care of them,” Josh said, patting Turtle’s back. 

Turtle’s face was tragic as he watched Kitty leave. I worried he’d pull so far back into his shell, he’d never talk again.

“OK,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” Mama answered.

We piled in the car, rumbling along until we came to a sign that said Gulf County Animal Shelter. As Dad parked, Mama turned to Turtle. “Let’s find you a new friend.”

Turtle grabbed my hand. He dragged me straight to the cat room, but we went right past all the cute, cuddly kittens. He stopped in front of a cage. 

“Look, Magnolia,” he whispered.

Inside was the ugliest cat I’d ever seen. It had bristly gray-and-white fur. Its tail was practically hairless.

Turtle put his hand against the cage. The cat rubbed up against it and purred.

My little brother grinned. “Possum!”

And this possum was for keeps.