Randy limped back towards Villagloriosa, his leg still throbbing slightly from his undignified tumble out of the peach tree. As the familiar entrance came into view, he noticed a whole cluster of young mice, all about his age, trooping purposefully towards the temple gates.
He paused, scratching his head, trying to remember if there was some special event he’d forgotten about. Just then, a tap on his shoulder made him jump nearly out of his fur. He spun around to find Boldo, the Guardian Elder, frowning down at him with that perpetually suspicious look, as if Randy had single-handedly invented mischief.
“Running around looking for adventures again, Mr. Ra—?” Boldo sneezed violently, interrupting himself. “I hate being outside,” he grumbled, wiping his nose. “Flowers make me sneeze.”
“I was heading to help Dad with the tunnels,” Randy mumbled, trying his best to put on a brave face.
“That’s all very good, if true, but—” Another sneeze exploded from Boldo. “Today is Confirmation Day. You’ve turned two, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” he nodded vigorously. “Just yesterday.”
“Then you must join these young mice at the temple for your adult orientation,” Boldo declared, sounding pleased to have caught him. “Haven’t your parents told you? Too busy dealing with all their children, I suppose?”
Dad had mentioned Confirmation Day. He had said this would be where Randy could get ideas on how to contribute to the community and become an adult. It happened every week, and there was no obligation as to when a mouse should attend, but the Elders encouraged young mice to do it as soon as possible after they turned two moons old.
Sitting through boring speeches sounded far better than digging tunnels; he was sure Dad wouldn’t get mad if he did this instead of digging today. So, Randy shuffled towards the better of the two options and joined the group heading towards the Temple.
At the Temple door, old Biloba was taking mental notes on attendance, peering at each mouse.
“Tarragon Winters! Sharp as splinters!”
“Yarrow Clease! Strong as Hazel’s cheese!”
“Moringa Finn! Quick like the wind!”
Then it was Randy’s turn. Biloba squinted. “Randy Crackers… oh, Randy…” She sniffed the air around him. “Curious smell… mmm… familiar… where…?”
Randy blinked, confused. Smell? He’d forgotten all about the peach. The young mice behind him snickered.
“Anyway, go on ahead, dear,” Biloba waved him through.
A few she-mice giggled again as he scurried inside, smelling the ‘mischief’ on him. He squeezed through the crowd, finding a spot somewhere in the middle just as the speeches started.
First up was Euphemia, the mayor, going on and on about cheese. Cheese, cheese, cheese. Perfection, purity, blah, blah, blah. It was the same old drone that usually put half the young mice to sleep. Randy glanced back and saw Rosemary, completely captivated, mouthing Euphemia’s words. He wished he could be so well-adapted to Villagloriosa and just accept things as they were. Life would be so much easier if he liked cheese.
His eyes drifted to the big statue of Glorioso behind the speakers. Then he saw her. Paprika. Wow, she looked different, even prettier. His stomach did a weird little flip. She smiled at him, and he felt his face stretch into a stupid grin.
Next was Boldo, talking about rules and punishment. He was slightly more interesting because he always sounded so angry. Randy found anger entertaining, as long as it wasn't aimed at him. Still, it was hard to focus. Paprika kept glancing back at him. What did she want? Girls were confusing. He wondered if girls in The Wild were like this too. Then he thought about Mint. Paprika was definitely prettier, you could stare at her forever. But Mint… He felt comfortable talking to Mint. What would he say if he ever found himself alone with Paprika? He’d probably just drool.
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“There’s a rumor some of you are going into The Gorge,” Boldo warned. “This will not be tolerated. The Gorge is beyond our borders and it is extremely dangerous.”
Randy’s attention fell on a commotion starting nearby. It was Tabasco, shoving his way through the crowd. Randy tried to look away, hoping Tabasco wouldn’t spot him.
“Crafters are in charge of art and ingenuity,” said Sage, the Elder Crafter. “Without us, we wouldn’t have Glorioso’s statues or Fenela’s tapestries, or even the garden wheels. A good crafter needs industriousness, imagination, and a deep respect for the perfection of cheese.”
Then Paprika waved at Tabasco and pointed right at Randy. Oh no. Tabasco bulldozed his way over, mice scattering around him.
“Randy, you look beautiful, lad!” Tabasco boomed, slapping him hard on the back. “Shake hands?” He stuck out a paw.
Randy hesitantly reached out. And just like the first time they met, Tabasco yanked him, twisted his arm, and rubbed his fist on Randy’s head. “That’s a good lad, good lad!”
Laughter erupted around them. Randy struggled, feeling his face burn with humiliation.
“What’s that smell?” Tabasco asked, sniffing loudly. “Do you know something I don’t know, Randy?”
More giggles. Paprika had drifted closer, holding Tabasco’s arm. “Randy is so yoopie,” she whispered with a wink. Yoopie. Randy hated that stupid new word used by youngsters in town. But coming from Paprika, even ‘yoopie’ sounded kind of nice.
“What smell?” Randy asked, genuinely confused, the peach completely forgotten.
“Don’t worry, we won’t tell,” Tabasco said, winking and glancing towards the guards.
Randy blushed again, then the memory of the peach hit him. He panicked, but Paprika’s sweet smile was so reassuring that he felt the frantic knot in his stomach loosen.
“We’re getting out of here,” Tabasco muttered.
“Where?” Randy asked, dread washing over him.
“Don’t act stupid. You’ve heard the rumors.”
Randy hadn’t heard any rumors. He just knew his last ‘adventure’ with Tabasco had ended with him getting yelled at and grounded. “I don’t think I should go anywhere right now.”
“Please, Randy, come with us,” Paprika cooed.
“We need you to create a diversion,” Tabasco stated, ignoring Randy’s protests.
“Me?” The dread intensified.
“Yes. I need you to come with me. Distract the guards at the door so we can make a run for it.” Tabasco winked.
Randy wished he was back in the tunnels, dirt and all.
“To be a good digger…” said Carroto, the Digger Elder, “...you must have strong teeth, perseverance, and devotion. Without us, you’d have no homes or milk, or cheese.”
“That’s not necessarily true!” a sharp voice cut through the drone from the temple entrance.
“You’re late for your confirmation, Mint,” Euphemia said with decorum, although her eyes betrayed her rage. “It’s always my youngest granddaughter who disappoints me the most. Unsurprising.”
Granddaughter? Mint was Euphemia’s granddaughter? The words escaped Randy’s lips before he could stop them.
“Friend of yours?” Tabasco smirked.
The guards let Mint through. “Tell them about the chambers!” Mint yelled. “Tell them the truth. There is no milk or cheese in those chambers!”
The temple erupted in murmurs. Euphemia looked furious. “You’ve been spending too much time outside, Mint,” she hissed. “Your mind has become addled by The Wild.”
“We deserve to know the truth about those chambers! Where do you really get the milk?”
“If you don’t stop now, I’ll imprison you,” Euphemia threatened. “Don’t think the law does not apply to you because you are family.”
“Let’s go!” Tabasco hissed, pulling Randy urgently. “The guards are not at the door now!”
But Randy didn’t move. He was watching Mint, amazed by her courage.
“No, Grandmother!” Mint cried. “You owe us the truth — what happens when we run out of milk? What do we eat then?”
“Guards!” Euphemia commanded. “Take her to a dark hole. A week to reconsider her madness.”
The guards grabbed Mint. Tabasco yanked Randy hard, pulling him towards the door. Paprika followed.
“Cheese and milk will always be found at the chambers, as long as we have faith and we keep digging,” Euphemia announced, regaining her composure. “Faith and work are all we need to receive cheese.”
Randy was rushed out of the temple, glancing back at the faces of the young mice left behind. They didn’t all look convinced. He wasn't sure what he felt, except maybe… confused. And still smelling faintly of peach.