“So what’s up?” he said.
“I don’t want you. I want Muncho!” I cried. I was also close to
crying with my eyes.
“That stupid carrot is not here!” he growled, showing his true
colours.
“Muncho is not stupid! Where is he?!”
I tried to slap him away, but he kept jumping around my shoulders
with remarkable agility.
“Oh, didn’t Muncho tell you?” he teased.
“Tell me what?” I was angry now, and horribly worried.
“You both wanted me here.”
“No, we didn’t!” I shouted.
“Yes, you did!”
“Go away!”
“I will leave whenever I want to leave,” Rex sneered. “Muncho
wished he had a companion, so here I am.”
“Pray tell me when did Muncho make such a wish? I don’t
remember that.”
“Why do you think he wanted to see Father Yuletide so much?”
“Oh boy!” Suddenly, all the puzzling puzzle pieces fell into place in
my mind. That’s what he’d been doing all those Yuletides in Caterham.
“Now what are we going to do about this little situation?” Rex
asked.
“What situation?”
“You do not like it here, and no matter how many kites you fly, I
know you miss home.”
“This is home now.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Don’t you?” he said. “Be a brat!” he cackled, like a wicked
thing.
“It is not as difficult as you might think. There are so many ways to
be a brat-”