Tails of Spring Break (4 page)

“You didn’t see her,” I told him. “She was creepy like a snake.” I rubbed my arms where the goose bumps still prickled. “Her face turned into a mean tiger face. And then, she jumped at us.”

Dad measured coffee grounds into a filter. “We’ll leave water and food out for her. She’ll be fine.” He sniffed at the coffee grounds and smiled. Dad loved coffee.

“Dad,” I said, “you’re not getting it. China hates us!”

His kettle whistled. He poured water and smiled again at his coffee grounds. It was true. He didn’t get it.

A few minutes later, Tyler had driven his trucks back into every room. He honked a lot, in case China was thinking about attacking. Claire stayed in the shower for hours. Then, she sat on her bed inside a cat barricade made of pillows while she strung beads into a bracelet. I drew a jungle picture with drooling, nasty tigers that prowled through the bushes.

Dad sawed boards to make shelves for his office.

Wherever China was hiding, she was quiet. Every time I went into a new room, I looked around first to make sure she wasn’t waiting to pounce. Once I was sure I saw her tail, but it was only the lamp cord.

At noon, the Andersons called to say they were leaving on their trip. At four, I had to do the first Muffin visit. “I’ll come with you,” Dad said.

Of course, Tyler had to come, and then, Claire went to get her jacket.

“It’s my business,” I told her. “You’re not supposed to come.”

She shook her head. “You need help,” she said. “Besides, I’m sort of afraid to stay here alone.” She hugged her arms around her middle and looked embarrassed. “China.”

My goose bumps popped out again. “Okay,” I said.

Getting Mrs. Anderson’s door unlocked was the worst part, and the whole time, Muffin yapped on the other side. “Here I am,” I told her once we got inside. “You can stop being a sad, lonely dog.”

She climbed up my leg, panting and yapping hello. Then, she bounced around the room and left piddle drops everywhere. Feeling like Mrs. Anderson, I pushed a paper towel behind her with my foot. I had to pick it up by a little dry corner and drop it in the garbage. Dad grinned at me. “That will get easier,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” I told him. I scrubbed my hands at the kitchen sink. Claire scrubbed her hands, too, even though she hadn’t touched a thing.

Muffin bounced beside me as I filled her bowl with kibble. She crunched up every bite.

“She has to go outside now,” Claire said.

I sighed. “I
know
that.”

“She doesn’t like wet grass,” Claire said.

I shook my head at Claire. Did she think I hadn’t been listening to Mrs. Anderson?

Muffin stood on the bottom porch step, lifting one little foot and then putting it back down in the same place. I walked onto the grass and clapped my hands. “Come on, Muffin,” I called. “See? Rain doesn’t hurt. Come on!”

Claire stuck her head out the door. “You have to make it look like fun,” she hollered. Muffin saw the open door and rushed between Claire’s feet to go back inside.

“Now, I have to do it all over again,” I yelled. “Just stay inside Claire.” It took ages, but finally I got Muffin out on the grass.

“Good doggy,” I said. “This is the right place to piddle. On the grass. Not the floor.”

She shook herself and ran back onto the porch. Had she piddled? I hoped so. When we got back inside, I threw the ball for her until finally she flopped down and panted.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” I told her. “We’ll play every day.” She licked my hand with her pink tongue. Dad laughed as he put down the book he’d been reading to Tyler. “She’s your friend now. Good job, Katie.”

As I picked up the key, Muffin’s tail drooped. She looked up at me with dark, sad eyes. “We have to take her home,” I told Dad. “Look how sad she is.”

Dad shook his head. “We have a cat,” he said. “That’s more than enough.”

After I locked the door, Dad said I could take care of Muffin without him the next morning.

He’d do the night visits.

Back at home, I hung Mrs. Anderson’s key on the hook. If it weren’t for the “excitement drops,” taking care of Muffin would be easy.

That night Claire asked me to play Concentration.

“Watch out,” Dad said with a grin. “She’s good.” He was right. I couldn’t believe how well she remembered where the cards were. “Tomorrow, we play a different game,” I told her. “Parcheesi.”

“Good,” Claire said. “That’s my favorite.”

As we got ready for bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about China. Was she hungry? Thirsty? And what was I going to tell Sierra? That her cat hated my house so much it turned into a monster cat and ran away?

“Do you think Dad is right?” I asked Claire. “That China will be okay?” Claire set down her brush. “Does he know much about cats?”

“No,” I answered.

“When I say my prayers,” Claire said, “I’ll say one for China.”

I turned out the light. China wasn’t under my bed; I’d already checked. I knelt and touched Mom’s poster. “Dear Mom,” I whispered, and I told her about China, and how she’d scared us. But I was also worried. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” I asked. “How will she eat?”

Mom seemed worried, too.
Maybe she’ll come out tomorrow
, she said. As I climbed into bed, I heard Claire whispering. I wondered what she and her mother talked about.

As I settled back into my pillow, I listened again for sounds of China. All I heard was Dad’s game on TV. Was China creeping around the house, mad at us? Sharpening her claws so she could scratch us? I pulled the covers over my head, just in case.

O
N MONDAY MORNING, MY
alarm went off just like on school days. I dragged out of bed, wishing Muffin was a late sleeper. Claire jumped up and was dressed in two minutes.

“Hurry up,” she said.

“Huh?” I said. “You’re not going.”

“You need me with you,” she said, “to help you. You could hardly unlock that door, Katie.”

I ran into Dad’s room. He was sleeping! “Dad,” I said to the big lump in the bed. “Claire says she’s going with me to take care of Muffin.”

“Good idea,” he mumbled. He turned over and started to snore.

I gave up. I tried to run ahead of Claire to Mrs. Anderson’s house, but she caught up with me when the key stuck in the lock. Muffin yapped on the other side of the door. “I’m coming, Muffin,” I yelled. She barked even louder.

When I finally got the door open, Muffin came running. And piddling. She raced between the kitchen and the family room. Her little legs sped across the carpet and then stiffened into a skid every time she reached the slippery kitchen floor. I held my nose and cleaned up the excitement drops.

As I poured food into Muffin’s dish, she bounced up and down and pushed her furry white face into the dish before I was even done. “You like your food better than me,” I said. I crouched down beside her and watched her get crumbs all over her face.

After Muffin tiptoed around the backyard and pooped, I sat on the kitchen floor and played guess-which-leg-I’m-hiding-the-ball-under. Claire sat at the kitchen table, writing in a notebook.
My
notebook!

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Writing things,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s how you run a business,” she said. “You write things down.” She tapped her pencil on the notebook. “How come you know how to play with Muffin?” she asked.

I tossed the ball again, and Muffin scooted after it. She brought it back, tossing it in the air, like a circus dog. “It’s Tyler,” I said finally. “A little brother is sort of like a pet.”

Claire made a face. “Tyler,” she said, “is loud. And messy. You can hardly walk through all the trucks and blocks and stuff in your house.”

I pictured Claire’s shiny kitchen counters and vacuumed rugs. Sometimes, I wished our house didn’t look so much like a day care center. I sighed.

Muffin crawled into my lap and curled up like a baby. When I rubbed her belly she kicked her back leg and grinned at me. “Sweet doggy,” I crooned. Her eyes closed and she began to snore.

When we got back home, Dad, wearing his robe, was finishing a phone call. He waved his hand at me. “The woman who lives around the corner,” he said, “has fish that need to be fed. Her name is Ruby. I know she’s a nice person, so I told her you’d do it.”

Did I want another customer? Muffin was fun. China was not. I pictured a bowl of goldfish. How hard could that be?

I
MADE CLAIRE GIVE
back my notebook before we went to the fish lady’s house.

“I’ve heard she tells fortunes,” Claire said. “I think she has a crystal ball.”

As Ruby opened her door, her silky, purple robes billowed around her. A gold tiara sparkled on her dark, curly hair. When she closed the door, gold curtains shimmered against the walls. Beads glittered from the edges of lampshades. More beads rattled in the doorways.

“What’s that nice smell?” Dad asked as Tyler reached for a green-and-blue feather that waved from a tall vase on the floor. Dad shook his head and picked him up.

“Incense,” she answered. “Here, little boy. Would you like a peacock feather?” She pulled one from the vase, waved it like a wand, and handed it to Tyler. Her fingers sparkled with rings.

“Are you a fairy princess?” Tyler stared at her, his eyes round.

“Not a bit, sweetheart,” Ruby answered. “I wish I were. Then, all our wishes would come true.” She smiled. “Let’s go see my fish.” Her skirts drifted out like purple clouds as she rustled through a bead curtain. We rustled after her.

All at once, we were surrounded by bubbling water and beautiful fish. Goldfish swam in bowls on the tables, but most of Ruby’s fish were in big tanks. In one tank, a big fish, bigger than a sandwich, lumbered through tall grasses and herded smaller fish, black and orange, in and out of a castle. The tank at the back wall held a curled-up pink shell. Fish darted like silver arrows and then huddled inside the shell as if they were having a quick party. In a third tank, a pancake-shaped fish drifted across blue sand while black-and-white striped fish played tag around it.

Watery lights rippled in Dad’s glasses.

“This is more than I expected,” he said in a worried voice.

As Ruby touched her finger to the glass of one tank, the fish gathered. They waved their fins at her. Their mouths opened and closed as if they were talking. “Hello, hello,” Ruby crooned.

“Katie’s only nine,” Dad said in that same worried voice.

I hugged my notebook close to my chest. Ruby’s fish belonged in the aquarium at the coast. They were
not
a couple of goldfish.

Ruby turned then, and held out her hands to Claire and me. I drew in my breath. Then, I stepped forward and rested one hand in Ruby’s as Claire took her other hand. Ruby knelt so her face was close. I stared at the sparkles on her eyelids.

One sparkle had dropped onto her cheek. She smelled like flowers.

“The person I usually call is out of town,” Ruby said, speaking to both of us in a low voice. “I have to be gone till Friday.” She gently squeezed our hands and tipped her head as if listening to something. She spoke again. “This is something you can do. I can tell you are people who love fish.”

I pressed Ruby’s hand in return. “I’m the one,” I said. “Claire’s just visiting.”

Ruby smiled. “Isn’t it nice,” she said, “that you have a good helper? I’m glad there will be two of you.”

I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “Two of us.”

Ruby stood up in a swirl of purple silk. She took a box of fish food off the shelf. “They need this much, once a day.” She showed us how much she poured in her hand. Then she brushed the food off her hand and into one of the tanks. As soon as the food touched the water, the fish splashed and zipped around.

“Wow!” I said. “The little one grabbed a piece away from the big one.”

“I named that big one,” Ruby said. “He’s Harry Truman.”

“After the President?” Dad asked.

Ruby shook her head. “After the man who wouldn’t leave his home when the volcano erupted.”

I nodded. Every time we drove to Portland and saw Mount St. Helens, someone would tell that story. I’d heard about that man a million times.

“Harry Truman was a tough, old guy,” Dad said. “This fish looks tough and old, too.”

Ruby watched me measure food and sprinkle it into one of the other tanks.

“Ahem,” Dad said as I moved toward the third tank. Oh yes. Stupid Claire. Did I have to include her? I moved again toward the tank. Then, I stopped and held the fish food can out to her. I had to bump the can against her arm before she noticed me.

“Everything is beautiful,” she said in a soft voice as she finally took the can. She held the can a moment, staring at the fish, her face glowing in the soft light. At last, she measured out food and sprinkled it into the third tank.

Ruby smiled at her. “I was sure you’d be good at this.”

While Claire dropped food into the goldfish bowls, I wrote in the notebook. Ruby handed me a house key that had a feather and a crystal hanging from it.

Claire nudged me. “Emergency,” she whispered.

“I’m doing it,” I said. I turned to Ruby. “Who should we call if something goes wrong?”

Ruby sighed and nodded. “Sometimes, things go wrong.” She looked up the number of the fish store, and as I wrote it down, I thought of China. Sometimes, things
did
go wrong.

Beside me, Dad shifted Tyler to his other arm. “What about the mail?” he asked.

Ruby led us into the front hall. “It comes through that slot in the door,” she said. “Perhaps you could put it on the table?”

“Mail on table,” I wrote.

“Ruby has a lot of fish,” I said as we started back home. “But we only have to come once a day. All we have to do is sprinkle food on their water.”

“I’m going to hang beads on all my lampshades at home,” Claire said, “and get some feathers to put in vases. And wear prettier clothes.”

“The best one is the hairy turnip one,” Tyler said. “Harry Truman,” I said.

“China would like those fish,” Tyler said. “If she ever comes back.”