Tails of Spring Break (7 page)

I clapped my hands over my ears. “Quit that,” I yelled.

In the sudden quiet, I pounded my fist on Tyler’s bed. “You’re asking for it, Tyler. You’re in big trouble.”

I heard my breath go in and out, too fast.

“Huff, huff, huff,” Tyler’s voice said.

Or did it come out of the heat ducts?

I didn’t know.

T
HE PHONE RANG.

“It’s probably your dad,” I said to Claire. He’d been calling her every day.

Claire ran to answer the phone, but a moment later, I heard her voice say, “I’ll get Katie.” She sucked in her breath as she handed the phone to me.

“We’re home,” Mrs. Anderson’s voice said into my ear. “A day early. The grandchildren wore us to a frazzle.”

“Oh, good,” I answered. Tomorrow morning we could sleep in. No more Muffin care.

“I’m very upset,” her voice continued, “about what I found here.”

My hand stuck to the phone. I could hardly breathe.

“When you bring the key back,” Mrs. Anderson said, “I expect some explanations.”

Claire and I marched across the yard like we were marching to the electric chair.

Mrs. Anderson met us at the door with Muffin in her arms. Claire started talking the moment the door opened.

“It was my fault,” she said. “She threw up all over the place. It was all my fault.”

“We called the vet,” I said. “I mean, Dad called the vet. The vet said throwing up was okay.”

Mrs. Anderson held her hands up. “Come in,” she said. “And slow down.”

We told her the whole story.

She sat in her rocker, holding Muffin close to her, like a baby. “I was upset about my plant,” she said. “I didn’t know Muffin got sick.” She touched Muffin’s green fur. “I see,” she said.

She rocked Muffin back and forth, blinking her eyes, trying not to cry. “We get so attached to pets,” she said finally. “The plant isn’t important.”

“I thought it needed more light.” Claire shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “Katie told me not to move it.”

Mrs. Anderson nodded. “It did need more light. I was going to do something about that. I probably would have put it in the same place.”

Claire drew a deep breath. “Really?” she asked.

“I had no idea Muffin would eat a plant,” Mrs. Anderson said. “She’s never done that before.”

She touched Muffin’s green fur. Muffin licked her hand. Then, she set Muffin on the floor and picked up her purse.

“No money,” I said. I moved toward the door. “We don’t deserve money.”

Claire put her hands behind her back.

“But you worked hard,” Mrs. Anderson said. “In my opinion, you really earned this money.” She gave each of us a five-dollar bill. Then, she even hugged us and gave us some peppermint candy she found in her purse.

“She doesn’t hate us,” I said as we crossed the yard to go home.

“She sort of seemed to
like
us,” Claire said. “I don’t get it.”

That night, when Tyler showed up for dinner, he tried to eat his pasta by putting his mouth in his plate and sucking. When Dad scolded him, Tyler meowed. He hissed when Dad offered ice cream. After that, he crawled down the hall on his hands and knees.

Dad kept shaking his head as he scooped ice cream into dishes for Claire and me.

“Tyler’s crazy, too,” I said. I wondered again where China was hiding.

After dessert, Claire and I played Checkers. She beat me two out of three. “Tomorrow, we play Sorry,” I told her.

“I love Sorry,” Claire said.

I sighed.

Just before we turned out the light, Claire said,

“I’m glad I didn’t go to Washington, D.C.”

“You’re kidding.” I turned to look at her. “We had green throw-up. A crazy cat. A dead Harry Truman.”

“It was very interesting.” She closed her notebook and put it on the bedside table. “I’m ready to pray,” she said.

First, we made sure China was not in my room. Claire closed the door while I straightened the blanket on top of the heat duct. It got cold in my room with no heat coming in, but at least, we wouldn’t hear China. I turned out the light and slid out of bed and onto my knees. My talk with Mom’s poster was short. “I can’t wait for spring vacation to be over,” I whispered. In my whole life, I’d never said THAT!

I pushed my forehead against my bed and thought about what to say next. “Claire is sort of okay,” I whispered very softly.

What was I saying? Was I going crazy, too? I climbed back into bed, disgusted.

F
RIDAY MORNING, AFTER WE
got back from feeding Ruby’s fish, Tyler had disappeared.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Dad told us. He raised his voice. “Young man,” he said, “you’re in big trouble.” He lowered his voice. “He’s hiding,” he told us. “I’ve been putting up my shelves, but I keep hearing him.”

We followed him into his office.

“I finally have room for all those files that were stacked in the closet,” he told us. He slid his closet door open and then turned back with a surprised look. “Who’s been in here?” he asked. “I had things sorted into piles.”

Claire and I peered around him into the closet. “Not me,” I said.

“Me,” a little voice said. There in the back of Dad’s closet stood Tyler with dust bunnies on his sweatshirt. “I was playing,” he said.

“In my closet?”

“Under it,” Tyler answered in that same little voice. He clicked the flashlight off and on. Then he hid the light behind his back and brushed at a dust bunny on his knee.

Dad stepped into the closet. “What do you mean—
under
it?” Then he stepped back out, shaking his head. “I forgot the trap door for getting under the house is in here. I’ve never gone down it. Never needed to.”

“It was open a little bit when I found it,” Tyler said. “It looked like a good cat place. So I went down.”

“That was brave of you,” Dad said. “Good thing you had a flashlight.” He looked hard at Tyler. “Did you find her?”

Tyler nodded.

“You found China?” Claire and I spoke at once.

“She likes it under the house,” Tyler said. “We’ve been talking cat talk down there. She tells me what stuff to bring her.”

We crowded around the trap door and peered into the darkness. When Tyler turned on the flashlight, we saw cobwebs and a gravelly floor. On the floor were cut-out paper fish and Legos and trucks. A bowl of water. A can of cat food.

Claire shuddered. “I bet there are bugs and spiders.” She looked at Tyler in amazement.

“I see China,” I said. “Hi, China.” Far off in a back corner, two slitted eyes flashed. As Tyler moved the light, I could see metal heat ducts branching toward all parts of the house. No wonder China’s voice had traveled through them.

“Hissssss!”

I jumped back into Dad’s office.

“She’s getting to be my friend,” Tyler said. “I know how to talk to wild animals.”

“You’re some kid,” Dad said. He brushed his hand across Tyler’s red hair and then looked at his hand. “Cobwebs,” he said.

Tyler shook his head and something black fell out of his ear. “She’s all dirty too,” he said. “She’s lucky. She’ll brush off.” He looked up at Dad. “Am I in trouble?”

“You’re a hero,” Dad said. “A hero who needs a bath.”

“We can help you tame her,” I told Tyler. “We’ll bring stuff to you. I’ve got a little ball with a jingle in it. And Claire made a thing out of beads that we can hang for her to hit with her paw.” I looked down into the hole. “That you can hang,” I said.

We ran to get stuff for China. Then, we did all the things that we’d written on the calendar. We sang songs. We read her poems and nursery rhymes. We bounced a ball. We brought more food. China’s slitted eyes never changed as she stared at us through the darkness of the crawl space. Pretty soon we knew Tyler hadn’t tamed her at all.

She was still wild.

F
RIDAY AFTERNOON, RUBY PHONED
. “I’m home,” she said.

“Did you read our note?” I asked when she let us in the door. “Did we do something wrong?”

“Harry Truman was old,” Ruby said.

I looked closely at her. She looked sad. Did she blame us? I couldn’t tell.

She was wearing silver tights. A silver cloth covered her curly hair and flowed down her back. She’d tied a purple scarf around her waist and little bells hung from the bottom of it and jingled as she moved. “Fish die,” she said. “Anyone who has fish will tell you that.”

“So, it wasn’t our fault?” I asked. I had to be sure.

“Not your fault,” she answered.

Claire heaved a sigh of relief.

Thick incense smells filled the room. Claire sneezed five times in the hallway. In Ruby’s kitchen, Harry’s plate lay on the counter.

We went to stand around him. “You made him beautiful,” Ruby said. “Thank you.” She held her hands over Harry’s body and closed her eyes. “He’s traveling a river,” she said, “on his way to a different dream. I hear the water.”

“Life is but a dream,” Claire murmured. She looked up at Ruby, her eyes round with amazement.

“It’s the kettle,” I said. “Your water’s boiling.”

Ruby blinked her eyes and turned off the burner under the tea kettle. She took a blue-and-gold tin box out of the cupboard. “Will you stay for a cup of tea?” she asked.

As we nodded, Ruby dropped tea bags into mugs.

Claire moved closer to Ruby. “Before Harry died, I was going to ask my father if I could have some fish.”

Ruby poured steaming water into the mugs and smells of roses and peppermint came out of the steam. “I hope you didn’t change your mind,” she said. “I love having fish. They’re wonderful pets.” We followed her to the dining room table and sat down.

“I’m never going to have a pet,” Claire said. “You just get to like them, and then they die.”

“I understand,” Ruby said. “But if you never let yourself like something, you’ll miss out on the fun of life. It’s okay to love something that might die.”

Claire shook her head. She stared into her mug. “My mother. . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I know you lost your mother,” Ruby said. “But she loved you and you loved her. You have all your loving times to remember. Would you have told your mother you didn’t want to love her, because she might die?”

“Of course not,” Claire said.

Ruby bent toward her. “There are many things in this world for us to love. Friends and pets and everything around us.” Her silver scarf fell forward over her face and she pushed it back with her hand. “We need to love them all as much as possible.” She picked up her tea and cradled her hands around the mug. “If your dad says it’s okay to have fish, I can help you get started. I’ve learned a lot about them over the last few years.”

Claire shifted her feet under the table. At last, she looked up. “No,” she said. “I mean, no, thank you.”

Ruby touched the back of Claire’s hand. Then, she turned to me. “Tell me how your business is going,” she said. “Did you have other pets to take care of?”

I coughed on a swallow of tea. “Maybe we should talk about something else,” I said.

Ruby got the whole story out of us. She leaned back in her chair. As she crossed her legs, bells jingled at the edge of her skirt. “It sounds like you girls did a good job. You worked hard.”

“Do you think China Cat will get tame again?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Ruby answered.

“Could you maybe look it up?” Claire leaned forward. “Like in your crystal ball?”

Ruby laughed out loud. “I don’t have a crystal ball,” she said.

“Then how can you tell people’s fortunes?” Claire asked.

Ruby smiled. “I use the Tarot cards,” she said. “But all I do is lay out the cards. Each person does her own figuring out. If you girls come to visit me again, I can show you how the cards work.”

After we finished our tea, Ruby paid us sixteen dollars. She said that was what she usually paid her regular pet sitter. We thanked her and started toward home.

“I like Ruby,” Claire said. Rain sprinkled her hair with silver drops. She’d forgotten to open her umbrella.

“She’s nice,” I said.

“But still,” Claire said, all at once snapping her umbrella open, “I’m not getting any fish. I don’t care what she said. I’m not going to start liking something that’s going to die.”

W
HEN WE GOT HOME
, Dad was in the kitchen, starting to make his famous toasted tuna sandwiches. “We have to talk about tomorrow,” I told him.

“About Sierra getting back?” He stopped chopping the onion and laid down the big knife.

“What are we going to tell them?”

“The truth?” Dad asked.

I sighed. “That she’s gone crazy? That she won’t come out from under our house?”

Dad started again on the onions. Then he scraped the tiny pieces into the bowl of tuna salad. “Do you want olives?” he asked.

I nodded and got the olive jar from the refrigerator. “We didn’t make her turn wild. She did it to herself as soon as she found out they were going to leave her here.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Dad said. “Maybe we can offer them a new cat.”

“They want China.”

He nodded. “I know.”

As he spread tuna on the bread slices, I thought about school on Monday and how Sierra wouldn’t be speaking to me. Every recess, she’d play with someone else. We’d never play at each other’s houses again. “Sadness makes me tired,” I told Dad.

He stopped spreading tuna and held his arms out. Usually, Dad’s hugs could take bad things away. But not this time. That night when we got ready for bed, Claire was still talking about Ruby.

I pulled off my shoe and dropped it on the floor. Tomorrow, Claire would leave, and I’d get my room back. If it weren’t for China, by Sunday everything would be back to normal.

“Want to see my mother?” Claire asked. I stared at her.

She reached under her pillow and pulled out that pencil case. She opened it, took out a photograph, and turned it toward me. In the photo, a woman was sitting on the steps of Claire’s front porch. Her blonde hair shone in the sunlight. She was holding a little girl.

“Is that you?” I asked. “On her lap?” Claire nodded.