Page 23 of Minnie

I keep glancing up at the sky, hoping the pigeon I sent after not-Violet will swoop down with answers, but no luck.

The streets empty once we leave Main Street, and I start to sing. As long as no one can hear me, Formula M doesn’t seem to mind, so we sing all the songs Natty loves. Wheels on the Bus, Old MacDonald Had a Farm, and the supernatural favorite, Witch, Witch, Scratch that Itch.

Natty giggles as he pretends to scratch his head, his knees, and his belly, and then I lean in and tickle him, letting his laughter warm my soul.

When we’re just out of sight of the prison, I think about poor Tiptoe. He’s not allowed to come with us, so we always let him out here so he can visit some mouse friends at a nearby warehouse.

The thought of him at Jewels Cafe, with that collar still locked around his neck, makes my heart feel heavy. I can’t stop thinking about how panicked the little guy looked when the collar was chasing him. And I can’t help thinking that I failed him because it was my job to protect him.

“I miss Tiptoe,” Natty whines as we pass the mouse’s usual drop-off slash pick-up spot.

“Me too, buddy. But we’ll see him soon.”

Luckily, the prison comes into view, and Natty lets out an excited squeal and claps. “We’re here. We’re here!”

I’m not sure how I feel about the kid getting this excited about prison at three. On the one hand, it does not bode well for his future. On the other, I can’t blame him. I’m excited, too.

For a split second, I picture him all grown up, standing behind bars in an orange jumpsuit. I start to freak out, but Formula M pumps some calming vibes into me, helping me relax.

Natty isn’t going to lead a life of crime. I’m going to do everything within my power to make sure of it, and so will his dad. I hope.

As we approach the front gate, one of the guards, Vigga, nudges the other guard, who’s a foot taller than her. She barely reaches my shoulder, though, so he’s probably average height. “Told you they’d be here,” she says. “Wednesdays ’round three and Fridays ’round eleven, like clockwork. Never miss a day.”

It’s true. I’ve never skipped a visit since we first started coming two years ago. Natty wasn’t even one yet, and would be asleep in his stroller by the time we reached the gate.

Now he’s wide awake, and he bounces in the wagon excitedly and waves. “Hi, Vigga.” Then he turns to me. “Minnie, Vigga likes fries!”

She’s a regular at Yes Now, Bob, the diner where I work part time and always bring Natty.

She grins. “I love fries. How about you, Natty, Natty?”

He rubs his tummy. “Yum!” Then he turns to the other guard. “Who are you?”

“That’s Marty with a D,” Vigga says.

“Darty,” Marty with a D snaps back.

Vigga nods. “Right. Could you buzz Minnie and Natty in?”

He shakes his head. “We need to search them first.”

Vigga rolls her eyes. “I know these two. They’re fine.”

But Marty with a D isn’t having any. “We need to follow protocol.”

Vigga shrugs. “You’re wasting your time, but suit yourself, Marty with a D.”

“Darty!” he growls.

“I seem to recall when you walked in this morning, first thing you said was ‘Hi, I’m Marty with a D.’”

“Marty with a D is Darty,” he snaps, marching over to Natty and me to start his search.

Vigga shakes her head. “Don’t mind him. It’s his first day.”

“Step forward,” Marty with a D orders.

Since we’re not carrying any contraband, I do as he says. And the fact that it’s his first day gives me an idea.