Cattitude (26 page)

“Don’t get smart.” As Katie stepped closer,
Sorcha stared at her ankles, thick with dark hairs growing out of
the sides.

Somehow, Sorcha didn’t think Katie dated
much. She didn’t think men liked to date women who looked like
prison wardens.
Male
prison wardens.

What parent would hire a woman like Katie as
his or her child’s nanny?

Even as she asked the question, she knew the
answer: Parents who didn’t give a damn about their child’s
happiness. Parents like hers.

“Achoo. Achoo, achoo, achoo, achoo, achoo.”
Katie topped off her sneezes with a honking sniff.

Gwen’s wheeled chair inched closer to the
desk and further from Katie.

“Something in here is making me sneeze.” The
brown flip-flops turned in a half circle.

“There’s nothing new.” Gwen’s voice
quavered.

Sorcha sent out a mental command:
Don’t
let her know you’re afraid.

“Bonnie cleaned today. I shouldn’t be
sneezing.” The flip-flops started to shuffle around the room.
Tilting her head to see around the Scooby Doo slippers, Gwen
watched Katie slide her finger over the top of the bookcase. Katie
looked at her fingertips and made a huffing sound, as if she were
disappointed not to find dust.

She’s going to inspect the floor next, and
she’ll see me.
While Katie’s back was still turned, Sorcha
raced across the room and scampered beneath the bed.

“It’s almost spring.” Gwen’s voice didn’t
waver, as if she’d heard Sorcha’s warning, but her Scooby Doo
slippers scuffed back and forth on the carpet. “Isn’t there pollen
and stuff in the air?”

Hunched to blend in with the shadows below
the bed, Sorcha winced.
No, Sorcha.
Katie wasn’t stupid. She
was worse: heartless.

“You’re hiding something.” Katie’s voice
sharpened.

“No!” Gwen leaped off her chair. Sorcha saw
the Scooby Doo slippers point toward Katie as Gwen backed up until
she stood at the foot of the bed. Sorcha silently shouted:
No,
Gwen! Don’t! You’re leading her straight to me.

“I’m not hiding anything.” Gwen took one more
step back, her toothpick legs smacking against the mattress. “This
is my room. Can’t I have any privacy?”

“It’s under the bed, isn’t it? Get out of my
way.” The flip-flops started toward the bed.

Sorcha scooted back against the wall. She
shook like the weakest twig on the tree and wished she weren’t so
afraid. A fraidy cat, that’s what she was, even when she was
human.

“If you don’t move away from the bed,” Katie
said, “I’ll move you myself.”

“If you touch me I’ll call my lawyer.”

“Don’t make me out to be a bad guy. I’ve
never laid a violent hand on you.”

The reasonableness in Katie’s voice made
Sorcha feel as if winter blew into Gwen’s airy bedroom. Katie
didn’t have a clue to the many ways her coldness could stunt a
young, sensitive soul. She probably thought she was doing a good
job. The same thing Sorcha’s parents had thought when they prayed
over her day and night, trying to make the devil leave her small
body.

“I’m not moving!”

“You may as well tell me what’s under the
bed. Don’t make me get down on my knees.”

“Go to hell!”

“Okay, that’s it. No swim class for you this
Saturday.” The flip-flops turned and started walking around the bed
toward the door.

She was leaving? Sorcha was inching away from
the wall when the flip flops reached the side of the bed and
stopped. She watched, a sinking sensation in her stomach, as the
hairy ankles bent and a pair of solid-looking knees dropped to the
carpet.

Gwen screamed. Sorcha wanted to move, but her
body didn’t listen to her mind. The knees scooted closer and
Katie’s gloomy face peered under the bed, looking straight at
Sorcha.

“Eeek! A cat!”

“Yowl!”

“I hate you!”

As if released from an evil magician’s spell,
Sorcha darted out from under the bed.

“A cat! You know I’m allergic to— Achoo. Oh
no, you don’t.”

Sorcha dashed to the open door. Katie moved
like a hippo. Sorcha could run ten times as—

“Woowoowoowoo!” Katie yelled out a war
cry.

Jerking her head to the side, Sorcha saw
Katie leap toward her in a flying tackle, her arms
outstretched.

Oh God, she’s going to land on top of
me.

Sorcha changed direction, but realized
instantly the maneuver put her at the edge of Katie’s landing path.
Before she could scuttle out of the way, Katie crashed onto the
carpet, her hands seizing Sorcha’s ribs.

“Yowl!” Sorcha whipped up her front paw,
clawing Katie’s cheek, then horror rocked through her.
Where did
that come from?

“You frickin’ cat.” Katie’s hands tightened.
Holding Sorcha away from her face, she rolled to her feet and shook
her.

“Stop! Don’t hurt Princess. I hate you!”

“Ow!” Katie stopped shaking Sorcha, but her
grip remained unyielding. “You kicked me,” she said, looking at
Gwen in surprise.

“You’re mean. I’m going to report you to the
police.”

“I think my cheek is bleeding. If the cat
scarred me, I’ll need plastic surgery. Your parents won’t be happy
to pay for that.” Katie snickered. “Although your mother could
probably recommend a good one.”

Holding Sorcha at arm’s length, Katie marched
to the doorway. With each step, her grip tightened on Sorcha’s
ribs.

“Where are you going?” Gwen’s tone changed
from angry to pleading. “Don’t take her away. I’ll be good, I
promise.”

Over Katie’s shoulder, Sorcha saw Gwen’s face
scrunch, her complexion turning red, even the tips of her big
ears.

Sorcha tried to transmit encouragement:
It
will be okay. Everything will be okay.
But she knew it wasn’t
going to be okay at all. She was going to be out in the cold.
Alone, hungry and unloved.

“Impossible,” Katie said, each syllable a
smashing mallet. “You know how quickly my allergies act up. I’m
already feeling the beginnings of a migraine.” Katie stepped into
the hallway and turned toward the front stairway, her flip-flops
purposeful.

“You can get a shot!”

“Even if I liked cats, your mother wouldn’t
let you keep this one. If she decided to have a cat, it wouldn’t be
a plain gray one. It would be something special.”

“Princess is so special,” Gwen said hotly.
“Where are you taking her? The animal shelter?”

“I have a calculus test to study for. I’ve
wasted enough time on this creature already.”

“I won’t let you do this,” Gwen said, and the
hurt in her voice made Sorcha’s insides twist.

Katie glanced behind her. “How are you
planning to stop me?” she asked, her voice mocking.

Sorcha watched Gwen stiffen and lean forward,
her hands fisted. Then she barreled forward, her arms flailing.

“Don’t you—”

A small fist punched into Katie’s stomach.
Then another, and another.

“Why, you little— Stop that!” Katie’s arms
dropped, and so did Sorcha, landing on her four feet on the hallway
carpet, her body not even jarring.

“I hate you,” Gwen yelled, hitting out with
both fists, her punches smacking into Katie’s cushioned ribs and
belly. “Run, Princess! Run and hide!”

“Oof!” Katie tried to grab a flying fist, and
her hand grasped air. She made another snatch, and Gwen’s knuckles
slammed into her wrist.

Sorcha backed up.

“Run!” Gwen screamed.

Sorcha turned and dashed toward the steps.
Yes! This house was so big and she was so small, there had to be a
hundred places she could hide.

“Got you!”

Katie’s triumphant yell reached Sorcha at the
head of the staircase. She skidded down a step, her ears pricked
up.

She told herself she shouldn’t stop. If she
hurried, she could still find a place to hide. Even as she thought
this, she turned. Gwen had done something no one had ever done.
She’d fought for her.

“Ow!” Gwen called.

A roar like a small lion’s burst from
Sorcha’s throat. She raced up the step and along the hall, thinking
about those hard fingers digging into her ribs. It had hurt. A lot.
She knew if Katie caught her, she’d do it again.

Dread dried up her mouth and her running feet
slowed. This was stupid. Gwen didn’t fight Katie so she could get
caught again. This was—

Gwen whimpered.

Looking up, Sorcha saw Katie shaking
Gwen.

Sorcha ran faster.

Leaping, she extended her claws, her front
legs aimed straight at Katie’s face. Still shaking Gwen, Katie must
have seen something out of the corner of her eyes, her head
turning.

Sorcha slammed into her face.

“Eeeek!”

“You came back for me!” Gwen cried and talked
at the same time, snot dripping from her nose. “You came back!”

Sorcha tumbled down Katie’s chest, her nails
catching on the sweatshirt. Katie lifted her hand and made a fist.
Seeing her hand come down, Sorcha yowled and leapt off her. The
fist punched her spine and the slam of pain made her yowl again. As
she hit the floor, Katie’s foot came out, the right flip-flop
connecting with her ribs. Sorcha thudded into the wall.

“No!” Gwen screamed. “No!”

While Sorcha lay stunned, Katie swooped down
with a grace that shocked Sorcha more than the kick. Just as she’d
dreaded, those punishing fingers jabbed into her ribs. When she
looked at Katie’s face, she saw a thin scratch on the wide
forehead.

Her mind scrolled up the image of Katie
shaking Gwen, and she didn’t regret scratching Katie. No matter
what happened to her.

Lifting Sorcha, Katie stomped along the
hall.

“I’ll call the lawyer,” Gwen yelled. “I
will.”

“Go right ahead. I’ll show him my scratch.
Who’s he going to think is worth more? A vicious cat or an
experienced nanny?”

“I hate you, I hate you.”

Sorcha looked into Katie’s eyes and saw a
dull brown, as devoid of compassion as two pebbles.

They reached the stairway. The cruel fingers
clamped tighter, and Sorcha yowled.

“You’re hurting her!” Gwen cried.

Katie clumped down the steps, not saying a
word, not loosening her grip. Then the flip-flops clattered on the
tile foyer floor. Gwen trailed after them, her face red and
scrunched. Every few breaths came out gasping, and she kept lifting
her palms to her cheeks and rubbing hard.

They passed the antique umbrella stand,
almost at the door. Sorcha knew what was coming and welcomed it.
Harder to bear than the fingers digging into her ribs was the agony
in Gwen’s water-filled eyes. Katie changed her grip, clutching
Sorcha with one hand, her other hand letting go to pull the door
open.

Cool air rushed in as Katie raised Sorcha
over her head. Then her hand whooshed forward, her fingers opened
and Sorcha went flying through the air.

Sorcha squealed. Behind her, Gwen wailed as
if her heart was broken. Still in the air, Sorcha somersaulted.
Right side up, she spread her legs to slow her descent until her
four paws slammed onto the sidewalk.

“Go away. If you come back, I promise you’ll
be sorry,” Katie said.

Without looking behind her, Sorcha dashed
toward the edge of the property. Her time with Gwen was always
meant to be temporary, an interlude. But tonight she felt as if an
invisible string attached her to Gwen, joined to their hearts.

The farther she ran from the house, the more
the string stretched.

She wondered if it would remain when she was
human again.

Belle tried to read but kept thinking about
Max. He was leaving. She didn’t understand why. Wasn’t everything
he needed right here?

She sat in the great room, her Harry Potter
book on her lap, almost to the end, but she felt too restless to
read. If she had her cat eyes, this would be a good night to go out
and prowl. But these human eyes didn’t work as well when the sun
went down.

One more reason to be a cat again.

She needed to remind herself. Being human was
starting to grow on her like these long brown hairs on her head. If
she didn’t change soon, she’d be one of them, thinking just because
she could operate a can opener she was better than all the other
species.

Although operating a can opener was pretty
special.

The book on her lap started to slide and she
grabbed it. Reading Harry Potter was special too.

Images of Max flared in her mind: sitting at
his desk in front of his computer, his expression serious; sprawled
on his bed sleeping, his body radiating heat; standing in the
doorway of his room with the towel tenting out in front of him.

She closed her eyes.
Where are you,
Sorcha? Hurry. Hurry before it’s too late.

Just thinking about Max going away, a hole
bored into her stomach, into her heart. In her cat body, maybe she
wouldn’t miss Max so much and the hole would fill with the joys of
naps and watching insects crawl and humans stumble. After all, Ted
would feed her, clean her litter box and pet her when she demanded
attention.

She
allowed
humans to take care of
her. She didn’t need them.

The sound of laughter came closer and Tory
walked into the room, holding the cell phone against her ear. “I’ll
see you in twenty minutes,” she said into the phone. Still smiling,
she closed the phone and slid it into her pocket.

Tory neared Belle and the corners of her lips
turned down. She stopped about four feet away, her hands clasped in
front of her, her fingers twisting together.

“I don’t know what Max said to you—”

“He said Phil lied. He’s not really my
fiancé.”

Tory’s fingers twisted together. “He was
undercover and had to pretend. It was part of his job. He was
trying to catch the man who murdered your real fiancé.”

Belle nodded. Hadn’t Evan on
The Love
Chronicles
done the same thing when he was an undercover cop,
before he found out he was the bastard son and heir of the richest
man in Thunderbird County?