Soon after that, I heard a crash. The car shook as a stone gargoyle came crashing right through the trunk. The next thing I knew, Emile was climbing in to rescue me! And he wasn’t alone! After he’d seen Skinner lock me in the trunk, he’d hurried off to get Dad.

Working together, we opened the latch on the cage. I was free! I jumped out and hugged Dad and Emile. “I love you guys,” I said, and hurried off.

“Where are you going?” Dad called after me.

“To the restaurant!” I called back. Being trapped by Skinner had helped me figure out a few things. One of them was that I really wanted to help Linguini…if he’d let me.

I was done sneaking into Gusteau’s. I decided to walk into the kitchen through the back door, the way all the other chefs did.

Dad and Emile tried to stop me as I neared the door. But my mind was made up. I was tired of hiding and pretending. I was going to be me, even if people didn’t like it. Like Gusteau had said, I had to be fearless if I wanted to be great!

As soon as I went in, the cooks came at me. Every rat instinct I had told me to run for my life. But I knew I couldn’t—or I’d always wonder what might have happened.

“Don’t touch him!” Linguini shouted. “I know this sounds insane, but, well, the truth sounds insane sometimes.” He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. “The truth is I have no talent at all. But this rat…he’s the one behind these recipes—the real cook.”

Now everyone looked confused. I guess Linguini figured they needed to see us in action. So he lifted me onto his head. I tugged at his hair and steered his hand toward some spices. Then I made him lift them up so I could sniff them.

The chefs watched silently.

“Look, this works. It’s crazy, but it works,” Linguini reassured the cooks. “Together we can be the greatest restaurant in Paris. And this rat, this brilliant little chef, can lead us there. What do you say? You with me?”

I was touched by Linguini’s confidence in me. Whatever the others thought, at least he was on my side.

No one spoke. No one moved. This was it: the moment of truth.

One by one, the chefs all quit—even Colette, who looked mad and sad at the same time. I guess she was hurt that Linguini hadn’t told her about me.

Linguini and I were the only ones left. Linguini peeked out into the dining room. The customers were getting restless. Ego was waiting for his food. Linguini turned, went to his office, and closed the door.