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Madison, for instance. It had seemed like a very good idea to go check on her when she didn’t show up. And when Polo had seen the trashed apartment and realized Madison was gone, it had seemed like a very good idea to go check the Coin Man’s apartment.

And when she realized he’d kidnapped Madison, it had seemed like a very good idea to throw herself repeatedly against the vent grate until she broke through and fell kamikaze-style into the living room. And since she was down there anyway, within striking distance of the Coin Man’s ankles, attacking those ankles had seemed like the logical thing to do. Anybody would have done the same thing, right? It had all seemed like a very good idea—until he’d kicked her across the room, that is.

The last thing she remembered was hearing Marco screaming as she flew through the air. She’d thought it would be the last thing she ever heard. But instead she’d woken up in Madison’s pocket, so in a way she’d been pretty lucky.

Polo sighed. If her bad choices had gotten her into this mess, she was just going to have to make some good choices to get out of it. She stuck her nose out of the pocket and looked around. It was dark, and Madison seemed to be sitting on the bathroom floor. Interesting choice. Maybe Madison should evaluate her life choices too. Polo shook her head. That wasn’t fair. Madison wouldn’t even be in this situation if it wasn’t for Polo and her button.

“You okay, little guy?” Madison said in a low voice. “You awake?”

Polo craned her neck to look up at Madison. Her face was streaky looking, like she’d been crying. Polo twitched her whiskers at her.

“I thought I’d better get you out of the way before he kicked you again.” Madison gave her a weak smile. “Now you’re stuck with me, but it’s better than being stomped.”

Polo couldn’t argue with that.

“You know, you look like another rat I know. Down on the fourth floor. I’m supposed to be taking care of her right now.” She sniffled. “Two rats, actually, and a bunch of other animals.”

“It’s me. And don’t worry—Marco will find us,” Polo squeaked softly. She wasn’t sure it was true, though. Marco hadn’t been screaming like he was planning a rescue. He’d been screaming like he was running away and never coming back.

“They’re not going to let us out, little guy,” Madison said softly, tentatively touching Polo’s ear. “They think I stole from them. But I didn’t do it, I swear.”

“I know,” Polo squeaked. She crawled out of Madison’s jacket pocket and climbed onto her knee. She tried to look understanding, but it wasn’t easy. She mostly felt guilty. And she really wished she’d learned to speak Human. Speaking another language was always useful.

Madison sniffled again and wiped her nose.“And the worst part is, except for those animals, nobody’s even going to miss me. Not for a long time. Can I tell you a secret?”

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“Sure,” Polo squeaked.

“My aunt that I live with? I don’t exactly live with her anymore.” Madison watched Polo’s reaction carefully. “Are you shocked?” Madison whispered.

Well, no. But Polo tried to look shocked. She actually wished she had someone to high-five. She KNEW there was nobody else in that apartment. She and Butterbean had been right. She just hoped that she would be able to see Butterbean again to tell her.

“I did, but she’s in the army. And she got deployed. So she set it up so I would stay with my friend Christie’s family while she was gone. It was all planned out. Then right when she left, their grandma got sick, and so they couldn’t take me. So I just… didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t say anything to my aunt, and I told Christie’s parents that my aunt had found someone else to take me. And then I just stayed at my aunt’s place. So there’s not even anyone to miss me.”

Polo’s heart sank. As glad as she was to be right, it made everything worse. Because that meant it was all up to her. There were no parents coming to help Madison. No aunt. No one. She couldn’t even depend on Marco and the others to come help her.

She and Madison were totally alone.

“I don’t know why you can’t just fly,” Marco grumbled. Oscar was taking forever. His bird feet were not made for walking in slippery metal vents.

“I’ve told you, Marco, it’s too low for me to fly. I’ll hit my head. Or rather, hit my head AGAIN.” Oscar had already given in to Marco’s pestering once, and it had gone pretty much how he’d expected—with Oscar smacking his head against the top of the vent. The resulting clang had been so loud that some people in an apartment nearby heard it and peeked through the grate. They hadn’t expected to see a mynah bird. (They didn’t think they had, either. They’d decided Oscar was either a pigeon or a mutant cockroach. Luckily, Oscar had been out of earshot by the time they’d come to that conclusion.)