When Malcolm the rat arrives as the pet at McKenna School, he revels in the attention. He also meets the Midnight Academy, a secret society of classroom pets that keeps the nutters (kids) safe. There’s just one problem: Rats have a terrible reputation! So when the Academy’s iguana leader is kidnapped, Malcolm must prove his innocence—and show that even rats can be good guys. Illustrated by Brian Lies of Bats at the Beach , this engaging middle grade novel will have readers rooting for Malcolm as they try to solve the mystery alongside him.   "A rip-roaring tale; even rodent haters will have to like Malcolm."— Kirkus "Escapades, humor, and romance weave together in this madcap elementary school adventure . . . A first-rate debut."— Publishers Weekly "This creature-feature leavens spookiness with healthy doses of whimsy."— Booklist "Malcolm is thoroughly likable . . . a good choice for younger students who are reading above grade level yet aren't quite ready for heavier emotional or thematic content."— School Library Journal W.H. BECK is both an author of children's books and a librarian. She grew up in Wisconsin, the oldest of four. As a kid, her dad always teased that she would be a librarian someday. She read all the time—walking home from school, while brushing her teeth, under the table at dinnertime, and under the covers at night. And, sure enough, after earning an elementary teaching degree from the University of Wisconsin, she went on to get a master’s degree in information studies from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She still lives and reads in Wisconsin and shares a home and books with her husband, two sons, and a big black dog. Visit her website at www.whbeck.com.   Brian Lies  is the  New York Times  bestselling creator of  Bats at the Beach ,  Bats at the Library , Bats at the Ballgame ,  Bats in the Band , and the Caldecott Honor book  The Rough Patch.  He has written and/or illustrated dozens of other acclaimed books for children. He lives with his family in a small seaside town in Massachusetts, where he tends a big and thriving garden.  Chapter 1 THE MOUSE It began with a rat. There was also a glasses-wearing elderly iguana, a grumpy fish who could spell, a ghost in the clock tower, a secret message in the library, and a twisted evil that lived on the fourth floor of our school. But those’ll all come later. First, there was a rat: Malcolm. I know this’ll surprise you, Mr. Binney, but yes, Mal­colm’s a rat. I know because he told me so. Don’t feel bad about bringing him to our class thinking he was a mouse. He is small. And that pimply clerk down at the Pet Emporium just wants to sell anything. I know—once he tried to convince me a goldfish was still alive even though it was floating upside down! Remember, too—back then, last fall, you were kind of . . . distractible. Like a kid listening to his mom while Cartoon Network is blaring. Hearing, maybe, but not really listening. I know why now, but still. That must have helped the clerk’s duplicity. So, I suppose, in an effort to get down the whole story, I should share how it happened. How Malcolm came to stay in Room 11 with us fifth-graders. I know you know this part, Mr. Binney, but I suppose it’s important to tell the whole story. Malcolm’s story. Malcolm doesn’t remember much before the Pet Empo­rium. Maybe he was born there. He does know that he used to be in a cage with lots of other rats. But they all got sold. People want their money’s worth, and the tiniest rat isn’t the one to pick. Of course, when you’re being sold as feeder rats, maybe that’s not the worst thing. So, Malcolm was the lone rat in his cage when you walked in that day, Mr. Binney. You came in for fish food, but somehow you found yourself stopped in front of the “Pocket Pets” section, jiggling a little square box in your hands. Every few minutes, you cracked it open and peeked inside. Malcolm was racing on his wheel. He’s very fast. Maybe you weren’t really looking at him, but you have to admit, there’s something about Malcolm that catches the eye. The pimply-faced clerk noticed your pause. “Can I help you?” he asked. “Hey, don’t you teach at McKenna School? I used to go there.” You jerked a little, snapped the box shut, and shoved it in your pocket. “Um—what? Yes, yes, I do.” You pointed at Malcolm. “Cute .  . . mouse. That brown splotch on his back almost makes him look like he’s wearing a cape.” “Mouse?” The clerk frowned and chomped on his gum. He glanced at the cage, then the frown switched to a slick smile. He slid in front of the sign that read rats, $2.99 each and rolled his gum to the other side of his mouth. “Yes, he is a handsome one. You know, ra—mice make great classroom pets. And they’re quiet and don’t take up much room. Smart, too.” You both watched as Malcolm started licking himself. All over. The clerk cleared his throat. “And, well—clean.” Malcolm finished grooming his tail. He considered your conversation. Whatever a “class