The Great Cat Caper (4 page)

W
hat do you mean he’s not home?” It was after seven.

Her stepmom Heather’s voice flowed over the phone as warm as ever with a tiny hint of Southern twang. “Oh, baby, he’s out of town for work.”

“No, he can’t be!” Vee’s voice climbed to a shriek. She swallowed hard. “Can’t I call his cell?”

“You could try to call, but it’s one of those business retreats where everyone has to turn in their cell phone so they can truly engage, honey.”

In the background Vee heard a crash and then two high-pitched voices shouting. She could never tell Joshua from Jacob and didn’t really care to. They looked the same. They smelled the same. Like dirty feet and sweaty hair. Heather’s voice turned away from the phone and said something muffled to the twins. Then she was back. “He’ll be home for your weekend. He wants to see you.”

Dad got to turn off his world? That was so
beetling
unfair.

“Can I help with anything, honey?” Her voice sounded hesitant.

Vee felt her face warm. She hadn’t been too nice to Heather since her dad married her and her two kids. Mom had told her to be polite and she had, but—

“No … I guess … well, I want—need—to have Dad pay for math tutoring three times a week until the festival opens so I can pass the math readiness retake, otherwise I won’t be able to stay in the accelerated but C. P. can and—”

“Whoa, whoa, that sounds like something your dad needs to do. Or your mom?”

Vee fell silent. Dad paid for math tutoring because Mom and Bill couldn’t. Things had changed a lot since Mom and Dad divorced. Like Dad living in a really big house in the next town, and Mom and Vee in Bill’s small house where the garage was bigger than the house.

“As long as I have you on the phone, Vee,”—her voice brightened—“how about you and me and the boys get together at Burger Mania so you three can have some bonding time?”

Bonding time. Burger Mania. The Twin Terrors. That
would
be mania.
No
thanks. As she moved to punch off the phone, she heard another crash in the background. She headed toward the stairs and the ATP that had her dad’s number on speed dial. She knew him better than Heather did. He would never give up his cell phone. “I can do this! I just have to keep my want-to ramped up!” Her lips quivered, however, and the want-to was wanting to burst into ramped-up sobs.

The doorbell rang. She wanted to scream. Would the world just leave her alone? What else could go wrong? The tears she’d tried to swallow were falling. She’d just ignore the door. Bill breezed in from his garage. “Hey, Vee. I’ll get the door. Your mom’s working late again tonight. Leftovers okay?”

“Fine.” She kept on going up the stairs. At the sound of a babble of familiar voices, she turned.

Bill stood with the front door open. Aneta, Sunny, and Esther surged through it, waving at Vee. She should tell them she was really busy. She didn’t have time for friends right now. She needed to call her dad and get this day saved. Somehow. The idea of staring at that math book by herself until the retest spilled a couple more tears.

“We’re here.” Sunny grinned at her and then looked around the small living room. “Cool tree,” she said of the floor-to-ceiling real potted palm Bill had gotten when he’d been flown to Hawaii to fix some special diesel engine before Vee’s mom knew him.

“We are here,” Aneta said quietly, her blue eyes shining. “We missed you on the library steps today.”

Oh. The steps. They had made plans at the end of summer, during one of Aneta’s Pool Plashes, that they would meet every day after school and walk home together. When they first met, they’d discovered they all lived within a street of each other, but since they all went to different schools, and Sunny homeschooled, they’d never met. Today she’d shot out of school like her backpack was on fire, sprinting to the community center parking lot.

The curious kitten had been on top of the Dumpster. As soon as Vee approached, all the cats vanished, including the curious one. She’d opened the little can, tucked it where the kitten seemed to like to peer at her, hoped for the best, and jetted home. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the curious kitten had found it. Their eyes met. Vee smiled.

“Sorry,” she said to the girls, not knowing what else to say. Every second she stood there, her dad might be walking toward some stupid pile of stupid cell phones.
Don’t do it, Dad!

“Are you okay?” Esther cocked her head. “Your face looks funny. Have you been crying?”

A pause lay heavily between them until Bill shifted his feet and muttered, “Food. I’ll get food,” and disappeared into the kitchen. Cupboard doors banged. Esther placed her hands on her hips and said, “We agreed we’re not leaving until you tell us what’s going on.” She smiled a quick smile. “So there.”

Fresh tears leaked as Vee regarded her three friends. The girls stepped forward and pulled her into the living room. Aneta knelt in front of Vee while Sunny and Esther flanked Vee on the sagging blue-green couch held up by old copies of
National Diesel Mechanics.

Sunny patted her hand yet said nothing. Vee turned to her and found her red-haired friend’s eyes sparkling, holding back the Sunny smile. Then it broke out.

“Vee,” she said, flopping back against the couch and causing a couple of months of the magazines to slide, tipping her toward Vee. “What’s wrong? You ditched us yesterday and today, and don’t say you didn’t.” She grinned. “I’ll just keep patting your hand like a grandma ’cause I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Vee smiled a watery smile. Nobody could avoid smiling when Sunny did. Even Esther, who could get really crabby when other people were noticed, smiled when Sunny smiled.

“My mom said do not leave until you spill your … guts,” Aneta said, slowly.

Unless Vee did, she’d never get to call her dad. She checked her thoughts. The girls cared.
Remember that.
Taking a deep breath, Vee sat up, squared her shoulders, and poured out the words: “There’s the curious kitten. And my math score isn’t high enough to stay in the Accelerated Learning Center, but C. P. can. If I pass a retest on the Friday morning when the Helpful City Festival starts, I can stay. This little curious one keeps looking at me—” She choked.

Her mother often said that “ventilating” made her feel better. Vee didn’t feel better. In fact, she was perplexed. When had the welfare of the curious kitten risen to the same importance as staying in the ALC? “I’ve got to call Dad on his cell phone before he puts it in the pile with the others—”

“Curious kitten in your ALC with C. P.?” Esther sounded confused. “Does your class have a class pet?”

“Food,” Bill announced, coming through the kitchen doorway with a tray and three paper plates. Jagged chunks of yellow cheese and quartered apples lay on the plates. “Brain food. For whatever you need to figure out.”

Esther dove in. “Wow, thank you, Mr.—” She paused and looked up at Bill, a piece of cheese in one hand and an apple quarter in the other. “Um, what’s your name?”

“Bill.” He departed.

“What I get is you need to retest in math?” Esther’s voice sounded like she was puzzling out a mystery. Vee nodded.

“So you can stay in the ALC?” That was Aneta joining in.

Another nod.

“And it bugs you that C. P. doesn’t have to retest to stay in the ALC,” Sunny finished.

Vee hunched her shoulders and nodded.

“And the curious kitten comes in…?” Esther’s voice rose in question. “I don’t get that part.”

Vee explained how she’d met the curious kitten and how she kept wondering about those Dumpster cats.

“They’re wild cats,” Sunny said. “The Cat Woman feeds them. What can we do?”

There had to be something to make Hermann not send the Animal Control officer to get rid of them. Whatever
get rid of
meant. It didn’t sound good for the cats.

“I’m smart in math but not smarter than sixth grade,” Esther said, folding her arms across her oversized T-shirt that read W
HY
N
OT?
“Regular sixth grade isn’t so bad, Vee. I’m having fun.”

“My place is in the ALC. It has to be. My dad is out of town, and ole Heather won’t tell the tutor to go ahead without Dad’s permission.”

For a few moments no one said anything.

Sunny stood up and began to pace in front of the coffee table. “Not to change the subject …” She pumped her arms like a windmill until her breath came in gasps. “But—to—change—whew!—the subject,”—she gestured to Esther and Aneta—“I guess all the teachers went to some conference this summer and heard service-learning projects were cool. My parents decided to have me do one with our homeschooling, too. We all chose projects that are at the senior center. Can you do yours there, too?”

There it was again. That
beetling
service-learning project. Their eager faces nearly undid her want-to to get to the phone.

“I—I …” Visions of leaving the ALC and reentering normal sixth grade danced in her head. “I can’t think about a dumb service-learning project until I know I can stay in the ALC.” She leaped to her feet. And figure out what to do about the curious kitten. “I have to keep my want-to ramped. It’s me and the math book for the next month. Sorry.”

She ushered the girls out the front door, hopping up and down on her toes, trying to bounce up some excitement, bouncing herself breathless instead. As the door closed behind the girls, she heard Aneta say, “Esther, I do not like a want-to ramp. It makes Vee not be with the Squad.”

Oh, math. I hate you, you big beetle-y thing.

Twenty minutes later, she knew things were looking up. Dad had kept his phone. He had to whisper because he was hiding behind some tree so no one would see he still had his. Yes, he said, he’d call Math Man and authorize three times a week until the day before the retest.

“Dad, I know I can pass this test. I’ve got my want-to ramped up to the sky. I do!”

Her dad was quiet, and for a moment she thought someone had gotten to him and relieved him of his cell. “Okay,” he said, finally. “When I get back, we need to talk about the want-to. Heather’s been talking to me about that and I—”

Yes, yes, yes. He’d said yes. She’d show him. A Dad Weekend was coming up, and even though she’d probably have to shout above the Twin Terrors yelling and breaking things, she’d explain how important it was to stay in the ALC. He could give her some ideas on how to help the curious kitten. “Sure, Dad. See you this weekend. Bye!”

V
ee sighed, wrenching her gaze away from the sliding glass door and her dad and the Twin Terrors playing soccer in the backyard. She was supposed to have Dad all to herself on Dad Weekends. Already it was late Saturday afternoon, and she’d still not gotten her father alone.

“Focus, Vee,” came the voice she despised. Math Man looked rather like a beetle with his short neck and eyebrows that winged out like antennas. She bent her head over her paper and pencil again, wondering if beetles had bad breath.

“Sorry,” she muttered. She stared at the word problem.

It wasn’t winter, first off. Vee hated word problems that didn’t have anything to do with real life. She penciled in
12
and moved on.

Vee’s pencil began to doodle a stick figure of a kitten in the margins of the page. Twenty-six days from today until the retest. She would be stuck with Math Man forever. Sighing, she snuck another look at the yard. The Twin Terrors had just tackled Dad around the knees, and he was struggling to walk. And laughing.

Math Man checked his watch. “Our hour is up. You’ve got all the tools to get this math down. I don’t know why it’s not clicking for you. I haven’t had this trouble with other students.” His tone wondered as though maybe Vee was the first idiot he’d ever tutored. Her ears burned.

Math Man left to talk to her father while Vee packed up her backpack. She slanted a glance out of the corner of her eyes to see if she could tell what was going on. Math Man was gesturing with his long, skinny arms, his ever-present black coat flapping a little. Dad sent the Twin Terrors into the house. That ended any kind of spying.

“Hi, Vee the B!” said Twin Terror number one or TT1. He was an exact copy of his little brother and couldn’t have looked less like Vee. They were blond, their thick hair longish and always in their eyes. Vee wanted to get rubber bands and tie their hair up like a Yorkie terrier. It would be safer to see their not-so-innocent eyes. With big brown eyes, they looked sort of like those cherubs on the Victorian Christmas cards her grandmother sent. Any resemblance ended there. They were loud and smelled like boys who hated baths.

TT2 flopped into a chair next to her. “Vee the B. That creepy guy told Papa you won’t pass the test even if you stand on your head.” Flailing his arms, he fell off the chair and rolled up against the wall where he tried to stand on his head, banging his feet on the wall as he flung them up time after time.

“Get your feet off the wall,” Vee said, putting her backpack by the stairs to take up to her room.
Thanks a lot, Math Man.

Heather breezed into the kitchen, her signature perfume of something citrusy wafting over to Vee. Vee sniffed. It was a vital antidote to O’dor de Boys.

“Boys, leave Vee alone. You’re not to torment.” Her Southern twang took on flecks of ice when she was stern. “Joshua, get your feet off the wall.”

Behind her back, Vee made a “ha-ha” face. So that one was Joshua. How did their mother tell? Vee had to give her stepmother credit, however grudgingly. She didn’t let the Twin Terrors get away with much. Dad did though. Like he was trying to be their friend or something.

After Math Man left and the Twin Terrors set a table of crooked silverware, Vee brought out the big pasta bowl of fettuccine. Heather followed with an equally large pitcher of Alfredo sauce. After dashing back to the kitchen for the broccoli, Heather joined them at the table and held out each of her hands to the Twin Terrors who flanked her. Vee sat by her dad and TT1, the mouth breather.

Eating dinner at Dad’s house meant listening to the stepbrother talk with his mouth full while he tried to breathe. Dad said Vee needed to not tell him every five minutes to close his yap. Bill said yap. Vee liked the sound of the word. A beetling
yap
open at dinner. She took the sticky, sweaty hand, trying not to grimace. Dad squeezed her other hand, and when she turned to smile at him, he winked.
Oh, Dad.

Heather bowed her head, “Thank You, Lord, for the food we are about to eat. Help us find our place in You every moment.”

With all the horrible changes, Heather blessing the food was one addition Vee liked. It reminded Vee of Sunny and Esther who talked to God like He was their friend, only lots bigger. Tonight part of the familiar prayer sounded as loud as one of the Twin Terror’s fights:
“Help us find our place in You every moment.”
She was sure her spot was in the ALC.

The last one? Okay, maybe not. In her mind, she drew a single line through it. They would just print out another test. Unless, of course, the sprinklers ruined the printer, too….

After dinner Dad walked by and patted her shoulder. “How about a walk? Heather wants the boys to help with cleaning up after dinner so you and I can have some no-boy time. Sound good?”

Evening still held off these days, letting the day stay warm and long. From the moment they hit the driveway and headed down the cul-de-sac of huge houses, it seemed like she couldn’t shut off her mouth. She talked about the Squad coming over and how she wanted to work with them at the senior center but couldn’t because she had to pass this retest. She talked about the curious kitten and how they’d discovered each other in the bushes. She talked about the language arts teacher and
beetle.
Dad laughed loudly at that and threw his arm around her shoulder.

“Vee, you are so funny. I bet your teacher loves having you in class.”

Vee felt like a spotlight had been lit inside. Talking about the girls made her want to be with them. Surely they knew what she had to give up to stay in the ALC. It would only be twenty-six days. Just until the Friday morning of the Helpful City Festival.

“I really like the Accelerated Learning Center, Dad. My want-to is going strong—”

“Your mom called while you and Heather were finishing up the sauce,” Dad interrupted. Anybody who had known Dad for even a little time knew he thought in “rooms.” And when he was in one room, he didn’t hear you talking from another room. He was in the Mom Phone Call Room.

“Dad, this is important. It’s so cool in the ALC. There’s a big bathtub and—”

“Shall we do a little jog and burn off some dinner?” Dad increased his pace until Vee moved to an effortless trot. She gave up and began to grin. The smile on her face felt silly, like she was some little kid, but she couldn’t help it. She and Dad used to run together several times a week since she was little.

“I’ll race you to the tree with the sign on it!” she yelled and took off.

“Hey, no fair! You’re getting a head start.” She heard a laugh in his voice.

“Ramp up your want-to, Dad!” She pressed her hands at her sides, hands open and straight. Pump, pump. Her knees rose and fell. The tree got nearer. Footsteps pounded behind her, and she puffed out short bursts of breath. Just. A. Few. More. Feet.

“Passing!” Dad yelled and blew past her, reaching the tree seconds before her. Vee groaned and plowed into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Just ’cause your legs are longer!”

She pushed off her father’s stomach and turned to face him, hands on hips. “You almost didn’t beat me. You haven’t been running, have you?”

“Boys like soccer, not running. Heather goes to the gym. Vee, about that ‘want to …’” He moved from the tree and back onto the sidewalk where they continued, still both a little out of breath. “It’s not always—well—” He seemed to change his mind, shaking his head, and then went back to the Mom Phone Call Room. “Your mom wants you and me to come up with a service-learning project. She says you’ve been procrastinating?” He turned to look at her. “That’s not like you, Veelie.” He only called her Veelie when he was worried. He flung his arm over her shoulder, rocking her off balance and into his side. “I have a suggestion for your service-learning project.”

A quiver of excitement wriggled up Vee’s spine. “Great! With you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve decided to coach the boys’ soccer team, and we need a statistician. It would be a great way to practice math and be with me and the boys. Help us spend some family time.”