Wild Cat (11 page)

Twenty

When I come down for breakfast on Saturday, Mom and Dad are waiting, arm in arm, at the foot of the stairs.

“There she is!” Dad exclaims. “Our own Kat Coolidge.”

“I wish you could ride with us to the courthouse instead of coming later with Hank,” Mom says.

“Mom, I told you—,” I begin.

“Not that we don’t understand,” Dad says.

“Because we’re understanding parents,” Mom adds, winking at Dad.

I’ve told them I don’t know if I can make it there or not. But they won’t hear it.

“George called me,” Mom says.

“Mother called you?” Dad sounds hurt that he didn’t get a call from Gram.

“We’re all set for the Made-Rite as soon as we finish at the courthouse. I’m glad you kept it just family, Kat. I don’t want to share you with anybody.”

I hug both of them, and they hug me back. Then I push away and get Princess. “Hank, we better go.”

In the truck, Hank makes small talk. “You and Dakota will be sad to see that cat go. Did you really teach it to use the toilet?”

I nod. But I know Hank’s thinking about the same thing I am. “I can’t go to the courthouse, Hank.”

“Kat—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He pulls up at Fiona’s and shuts off the engine. “I’ll wait right here for you.”

“Don’t. I need you to go to the courthouse for me.”

“You can’t—”

But I don’t let him finish. I know what I’m doing, what I
have
to do. “I’m going to put on the best cat clinic anybody has ever seen. Tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry. But this is something I have to do.” I climb out of the truck. Princess is still asleep in my arms.

“Kat?” Hank calls after me. “I can’t just leave you here.”

I turn to face him, but I keep walking backward, clinging to Princess. “You have to. If you ever want me to be ready for the adoption, you’ve got to let me do this.” Then I turn around and don’t look back.

On the front step, I ring the bell. Music is blaring from inside. Mrs. Morris opens the door, looking older, with lopsided hair and no makeup.

“It’s you, Katrina.” She lets me in. “You can be glad you couldn’t make it to the sleepover.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you had to get your rest. Fiona said you needed to recharge before today. You wouldn’t have gotten a bit of sleep here.”

Nobody said a word to me about this sleepover. Couldn’t Fiona have asked me, at least? A sleepover. I’ve never even been to one.

“I’m so proud of Fiona,” Mrs. Morris says, leading me through the maze of a hall. “You know, for volunteering to be your partner in this project. She’s usually very competitive.”

I must have asked myself a hundred times why Fiona volunteered to be my partner. I guess I have my answer. I was her own little good-deed project.

We stop at the door to a big room I haven’t seen before. Fiona and Brett are laughing together in one corner. Girls are sprawled out on the floor and couches. A couple of Fiona’s cheerleading friends are still in their matching pj’s.

Mrs. Morris leaves Princess and me in the doorway.

I picture myself clinging to Princess with one hand and reaching up for my Father’s hand with the other. Then I walk in.

Fiona hollers at me. “Finally! Kat, come here.”

I glance around and see only three cats. Alex has his Bozo. He waves at me. I wave back, then join Fiona. “Where are the rest of the cats?”

“I told people they didn’t have to go home and get their cats. Buffenmyer can’t come, so she won’t know anyway.”

Fiona barely glances at Princess before shouting, “Hey, everybody! Let’s get this over with.”

A couple of girls groan. The cheerleaders don’t budge from their makeshift bed on the floor. Somebody bursts out laughing from the other side of the room, where it looks like they’re playing cards.

This whole thing is so lame.
I’m
lame. What did I think I could do here? The only reason I’m here at all is because Fiona had pity on me.

Fiona shoves me to the front of the room. “Go!” she whispers.

I stand in front of the stone fireplace and look out at my classmates. Only I can’t remember what I was going to say.

“Kat?” Alex says. He’s moving to the front. “You okay?”

“Oh, great,” Cassie says. “Is she going to puke again?”

“Gross!” Arianna shouts.

I clear my throat. I’m
not
going to hurl.

“Somebody ask her a question,” Fiona suggests.

“I’ve got one,” says Melissa, a friend of Fiona’s. “My cat hates me. What have you got for that?”

I stare at her. Her cat doesn’t hate her. Should I say that?

“Kat?” Fiona says, like she’s had it with her good-deed project.

I turn back to Melissa. “Well, try to think like your cat.”

“What?” Melissa snaps. “I can’t hear her.”

Before Fiona can tell me to speak up, I do. “Do you pick up your cat and hold her on your lap?”

“I do that,” Melissa insists. “But she won’t sit and watch TV with me. She jumps off and runs away.”

“Yeah. Cats don’t like to be picked up unless it’s their idea,” I explain.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Melissa asks, like it’s my fault I didn’t tell her before.

“Just pet your cat where she is. And stop petting her before she’s tired of it,” I tell her, hoping she really wants to help her cat.

“How am I supposed to know when she’s tired of being petted?” Melissa whines.

“Watch her tail,” I answer.

“For real?” Melissa asks, looking kind of interested now.

“If her tail is up,” I explain, “your cat loves what you’re doing. If her tail’s down, not so much. If she arches her back or her fur stands up, back off fast.”

“Cool. What are some other clues?” Alex asks.

Thank heaven for Alex. “Ears forward means your cat’s on the offense. Ears back, defense. Whiskers forward might mean your cat’s ready to attack. If she’s aggravated at you, watch that tail move back and forth, faster and faster.”

Alex asks me another question. Then Stephen asks one. Then Mikayla.

The clock gongs. I stop talking and listen. Eleven gongs. Hank has probably already told everybody that I’m not coming. He would have gotten to the courthouse early. He’s early for everything. Hank can’t stand to be late. I feel like a coward for not explaining things to Mom and Dad myself. But Hank will explain it better than I could anyway.

“Look at Berta,” Stephen says.

I’m glad to get my mind out of the courtroom. “What’s she doing?” I ask.

Some of the kids move so they can see Stephen’s cat. Berta is lying on her back, legs in the air.

“She really trusts you, Stephen,” I begin. “When a cat rolls over on her back like that, she’s letting herself be vulnerable to you.”

“Don’t go there, Berta!” Cassie yells. “Been there, done that.”

Everybody laughs. I’m probably the only one who didn’t know Stephen and Cassie have history.

Stephen reaches for his cat’s belly.

“Don’t try to rub her belly or scratch her when she’s like that,” I warn. “She’ll remember she’s vulnerable, and she might scratch
you
.”

“Exactly,” Cassie says.

The room cracks up.

“Okay, okay,” Fiona shouts. “That’s enough.”

“Don’t we get to tell how our cats got better after we talked to Kat?” Mikayla asks. “Mine did.”

“Mine too,” Alex agrees.

Fiona ignores them. “Everybody just make sure you’ve turned in your evaluations. Kat, cut to the chase.”

I force myself to check the time. It’s 11:15. I try not to think about the courtroom and what Hank’s telling everybody. Maybe without me there, they can all be honest with the judge . . . and with themselves.

“So, what about my stupid cat?” Fiona demands. “Did you teach her anything?”

“Princess is
my
stupid cat,” Arianna says. “Not yours. And who are you kidding? Nobody can teach that cat anything.”

I’ve held on to Princess the whole time, partly because I thought it would be scary for her to maneuver around so many people and partly because holding her helped keep me together. “This week I discovered a lot about Princess,” I begin.

Fiona sighs.

“I suspected something was wrong with her when she didn’t meow. Then I noticed she didn’t care about dogs barking or birds chirping.”

“I know all that already,” Fiona says.

Then I blurt it out. “Princess is blind. And deaf.”

Somebody says, “You’re kidding!”

Someone gasps.

Somebody else says, “That’s so sad.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Fiona says. “That pet store sold us a blind and deaf cat? They’re going to hear from us, believe me.”

“Now they
have
to take the cat back, right?” Arianna adds. “That’s, like, false advertising or something.”

“You can’t take her back,” I object.

“Just watch me,” Fiona vows.

“But there’s more, Fiona,” I begin.

“What’s left? The cat can’t see, hear, or speak,” Fiona complains. “She’s going back to the pet store, and you can’t change our minds.”

“But she’s a sweet cat. She’ll love your family, and she’ll let
you
love
her
.”

“But we won’t,” Fiona says.

“No kidding,” Arianna agrees. “Who wants a deaf, dumb, blind, and whatever cat?”

I don’t understand how they can feel that way. I stroke Princess’s head. Once I tell Fiona and Arianna that Princess is probably the only cat in Illinois who can use the john, it’s got to change the way they feel about her. “Your cat is so smart, you guys. Wait till you hear what she can do.”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “I’m waiting. And this better be good.”

“Princess learned—” I stop.
This better be good?
“Wait. Why had this better be good?”

“Because the cat’s going back to the pet store—or to the pound—if it’s not. That’s why,” Fiona says.

And what if I tell them about their toilet-trained cat? What then? Why should that earn Princess a spot in this house? “Fiona, can’t you love Princess as she is, for
who
she is?”

“I knew it,” Fiona says. “You couldn’t teach that cat to do anything, could you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I answer. “I’m asking you why she
has
to do anything.”

Fiona glares at me. “You know, I’m still not hearing any reason to keep that cat.”

I look down at Princess lying in my arms. “Just because,” I whisper, more to myself than to Fiona.

“What?” Fiona demands.

“Because,” I repeat. And it feels like a revelation.

“Because? That’s it? That’s all?” Fiona laughs.

“Yep,” I tell her, getting it myself at last. “That’s all. Just because. Princess should have a home because she’s Princess. That’s all. She doesn’t have to
do
anything. And guess what. Neither do I!”

“Fine,” Fiona says. “I think we’re done here.”

For once, Fiona and I agree. We’re done. “What time is it?” I ask.

Alex answers, “Um . . . 11:30.” He walks up to me. “What are you going to do with Princess?”

I look at the cat, still asleep in my arms. “She’s coming with me.”

“Yes!” Alex whispers.

“Don’t even think about bringing that cat back here,” Fiona calls after me.

I dash out of the house, prepared to run to the courthouse with Princess in my arms.

A horn honks, and Hank opens the truck door. “About time,” he calls.

“You waited?” I can’t believe it. It must have killed Hank to sit out here, getting later and later. I hop in. “Thanks, Hank.”

Hank takes back streets to the courthouse. The lot is almost empty. The courthouse is closed on Saturdays except for when they do adoptions. We park and run inside. Security at Nice Courthouse is a chubby security guard who goes to our church. He lets us in—with Princess—without any problem. But the girl at the front desk stops us cold.

“We’re looking for the adoption judge, Judge Carroll,” Hank tells her.

“First door on your right,” she answers. “But you can’t go in there with a cat.”

I stick Princess inside my jacket and head back anyway while Hank works his magic on the girl. He catches up with me at the courtroom door.

I stand on tiptoes and peek in. It’s not the way I pictured a courtroom, more like a big office. On one side of the desk sits a thin man in a navy suit. On the other side, their backs to us, sit Mom, Dad, Dakota, and Wes. I reach for the doorknob, but Hank stops me.

“I know Judge Carroll,” Hank says. “I called him when I knew we were going to be late. I told him what you told me, Kat.”

“You promised, Hank.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell Mom and Dad.” He cracks the door and holds his finger over his lips. The judge looks up and nods at Hank. The others still have their backs to us.

“. . . such a blessing to our family,” Mom is saying. “I loved that girl from the first minute I saw her in the hospital. I thought the day we brought her to the farm was the happiest day of my life. But maybe this is. I just wish she were here with us.”

“Mr. Coolidge?” the judge says.

“I second everything my Annie said,” Dad answers. “I don’t think I could go a day without seeing that angelic face, those eyes of hers. Sometimes I think Kat never let go of God’s hand when she came down here. There’s something so special about her.”