Don't Scream (9780307823526) (10 page)

“Not if you give up coffee, tea, and artificial sweeteners,” I said.

“What!” Mom cried.

“Just kidding,” I told her. I picked up the lid of the kettle and stirred the sauce. When Mom makes it from scratch, she cooks up tons and we package it for the freezer.

“You'll be eating dinner alone tonight,” she said. “Your dad and I will be going to that golf awards dinner at the club.”

I pictured Dad grumbling and complaining every time he had to put on his tuxedo. He loves his job as golf pro at the country club but hates the formal dinners he had to attend.

In the distance I heard a high-pitched wail. The second time, it came more clearly. “Peaches! Peaches!”

Mom and I looked at each other. “He's calling his cat,” I murmured. “Oh, Mom, I feel sorry for him.”

“Poor Mr. Chamberlin. He's terribly upset,” Mom said. “He was on his porch calling Peaches a while ago when I drove home, so I stopped by to
visit with him after I put the groceries away. He can't believe that Peaches won't come back.”

“Mom, what do you think happened to Peaches?” I asked. I couldn't get the picture of the “moving” tree and the streaking cat out of my mind. “Do you think she was picked up by the animal shelter?”

“No,” Mom said. “I checked. Maybe Peaches wandered over to a busy street and got hit by a car. I can't imagine what else could have happened to her. Surely no one would want to steal an old cat like Peaches.”

At that moment Pepper ambled into the room. To his obvious displeasure, I interrupted him in midstretch, swooping him up and hugging him closely. I knew how Mr. Chamberlin must be suffering. I'd have felt the same way if Pepper had suddenly disappeared. I couldn't bear to think about it.

“Mom,” I said, changing the conversation to something happier, “you've got to meet Ricky. He's the cutest little boy, with big blue eyes and hair so blond it's almost white. Today he said one word—
up
—and he said it for everything. He's so cute!

“Oh! Are any of my old toys around? Mark got the idea of bringing toys and books to the children's ward. Isn't that great?”

“Yes, it is,” Mom said. “Tomorrow I'll look in the garage to see what we've saved.” She glanced at my backpack on the table, where I always dropped it. “But right now take out your books and get busy with your homework. You've got half
an hour until dinnertime. I'm counting on what you promised about bringing up your grades.”

Exasperated, I answered, “Okay, okay. I'm going to.” I wondered why Mom couldn't let me do what I'd told her I'd do without forever reminding me.

With Pepper in one arm and my books in the other, I settled into a comfortable chair in the den. After just one longing look at the blank television screen, I opened my English lit book.

W
HEN
M
OM
'
S
SAUCE
had simmered long enough, I boiled some spaghetti and cut up greens for a salad. Mom and Dad came in to say goodbye before they left for the country club, and I told them both they looked gorgeous.

“Men aren't gorgeous,” Dad complained. He tried to wiggle a finger between his neck and his collar and said, “Doris, this shirt shrank.”

“Either lose ten pounds or buy another shirt,” Mom told him.

As they kissed me goodbye, Pepper rubbed against my ankles. “I didn't forget you,” I told him. I dished cat food into his bowl and watched him munch his way through it with fastidious little cat bites. When the bowl was empty, Pepper made for the back door, and I let him out.

At last I was able to settle down to enjoy my own dinner.

The house was silent, except for the cycling of the air-conditioner in a monotonous on-off hum. It was growing dark, so I turned on the kitchen
light, finished my dinner, and put my dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

As I stood at the window I saw Mr. Chamberlin's porch light flip on, and I heard his plaintive call again, “Peaches! Peaches!”

Aching for him, but not knowing how to help him, I groaned and hurried into the den, where I turned on more lights than I really needed. I found a calendar for October, a yardstick, and a sheet of posterboard left over from last year's science project. Laying them on our large coffee table, I began drawing grids with dated squares. Volunteers could sign up for the days they wanted. When I'd finished, I reached for my government book.

Normally by this time I'd either have been on the phone to Lori or would have turned on the television. But I had a new lifestyle now, because of my promise to Mom and Dad. I wouldn't allow myself to think of anything else but homework—not my thoughts about Mark or Scott, not even the fun I'd had with Ricky.

It wasn't until much later, when I gave a happy sigh and tucked my last finished assignment into my notebook, that I realized there was something I
should
have thought about and hadn't. Where was my cat?

Jumping up to let Pepper in when he scratches at the door is so routine, I do it automatically. But tonight Pepper hadn't scratched at the door. I hadn't opened it to let him in.

My heart pounded loudly, and I gasped for air as I threw open the back door.

“Pepper!” I shouted, but Pepper didn't come.

I turned on the outside light, a glaring spotlight on the garage, and searched the edges where the light melted into the darkness. “Pepper!” I cried.

Grabbing Dad's heavy-duty flashlight, I ran outside, hunting through both the front and back yards, stabbing the beam of light into all the darkest corners. “Please, Pepper, come home,” I called over and over again. “Please, please, please!”

I walked the length of the block and back, jumping at any sudden crack of a twig or rustle in the grass. Light shone in tidy squares and rectangles inside the houses that lined our block on both sides. I caught laughter from an overloud TV and part of a heated argument from the Snyders across the street. But I saw no sign of Pepper.

Sick and hurting, I made my way home.

The back door stood wide open. In my hurry, had I left it like that?

I locked the door carefully, turned off the kitchen light, and leaned against the wall, my face wet with tears.

“Oh, Pepper, Pepper, where are you?” I murmured.

A figure loomed before me, its whispered words raspy with rage. “Peaches and Pepper—they're gone forever.”

My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out.

“What's the matter with you?” A voice croaked, as someone poked me with a cane.

“Mr. Chamberlin?”

“That's a stupid question. You ought to know my name by this time.”

I took a couple of deep breaths. “What are you doing here?” I blurted out as I turned on the kitchen light.

“I saw you searching for your cat,” he said, “so I came to see what happened. Your door was open, and I walked inside. What did you do with your parents?”

“My parents went to a dinner at the country club,” I answered.

Mr. Chamberlin gave a snort of contempt. “Your mother said she'd help me, and a fat lot of good she did.”

“Now, wait a minute,” I answered defensively. “Don't blame Mom for your cat's being lost. She
called the animal shelter and searched all over the neighborhood for Peaches. And I did, too.”

“Didn't do any good,” he muttered stubbornly. He pulled out a kitchen chair and slowly lowered himself into it. “You didn't find him that took the cats.”

I sat down opposite him. “What do you mean? Who took the cats?”

His mouth twisted. “That's another stupid question. Don't you think if I knew I'd tell you?”

“But you said someone took them. How do you know that?”

“Stands to reason. First one cat gone, then the other. Cats don't wander off in pairs.”

“Maybe the tuna in the trash hadn't been thrown out. Maybe it was used to lure Peaches.”

He leaned forward, his face thrust into mine. “Find him,” he said. “Find the one who done it.”

“Find who?” I asked. “You keep saying
him.
Did you see someone around here, Mr. Chamberlin?”

He slowly settled back, his eyes dull with fading comprehension.

“Who did you see?” I repeated.

Mr. Chamberlin suddenly slumped, as though someone had let go of a string that held him up. Tears ran down his face. “Peaches won't ever come back,” he murmured.

I jumped to my feet and brought him the box of tissues that sat on the kitchen ledge, but even though I pushed the box right in front of him, Mr. Chamberlin ignored it. He ignored me, too, lost in his own mournful world.

“Did you see Pepper tonight, Mr. Chamberlin?” I asked, but he didn't answer.

I tried again. “Did you see anyone around our house—anyone who didn't belong here?”

“Evil, evil in his eyes. I know evil. I can see it.” He continued to cry.

Poor old man. I snatched up a handful of tissues and pushed them at him. “Come on, Mr. Chamberlin,” I said. “I'm going to take you home.”

This time I locked the back door as I left.

A
FTER
I
WALKED
Mr. Chamberlin safely to his own house, I tested his alarm light to make sure it was working, and then I decided to search every inch of the ground between his home and ours. What was I looking for? I didn't know. Anything out of the ordinary, I guess. But tonight there was no trash and no tuna.

Where had Pepper gone? What had happened to him?

The Maliks' front door opened, and Mark stepped outside. “Jess, is that you?” he called. “What are you doing?”

“I'm looking for Pepper,” I said. “Pepper, my cat.”

Mark loped down the walk to join me. He glanced in the direction of Mr. Chamberlin's house, then back to me. “Your cat's gone, too? What's going on around here?”

“I don't know,” I said.

“Were they valuable cats? Would anyone want to steal them?”

“Peaches was a Persian, but she was an old cat, and Pepper was—is—nothing more than an alley cat.”

“Did Pepper like to go wandering?”

“Not often. He's pretty lazy.”

“Has he ever disappeared before?”

I sighed. “When he was younger, he got trapped inside someone's toolshed for a whole day and scared me to death, but during the last few years he's been content to stick close to home. Mark, I've had Pepper since I was eight years old. I don't know what I'd do without him.”

Without meaning to, I burst into tears.

Mark didn't say anything. He just put his arms around me.

“It hurts,” I managed to say as my sobs turned to dry shudders.

“Of course it hurts.” Mark gently kissed my forehead, then both eyelids, and I felt as though I were wrapped in a caring, comforting cocoon. Mesmerized, I leaned against him and raised my face for what I thought would be his kiss on my lips, but he said, “I'm going to take you home, Jess. I'll wait with you until your parents come back, if you want me to.”

It took a few moments to pull myself back to reality. “I'll be fine by myself,” I told him. “But thanks for your help. I'm sorry I dumped all my feelings on you.”

Mark smiled. “Hey, what are neighbors for?”

I smiled back. “I thought neighbors were different in the Bronx.”

“Neighbors are neighbors everywhere,” Mark said. “I have to admit, though, I'd rather be neighbors with you than with Mr. Chamberlin.”

“I found him inside my house tonight,” I said as we walked to my back door. “I didn't know he was there, and he nearly scared me to death. He said strange things, like ‘Peaches and Pepper are gone away forever,' and he talked about ‘him that took the cats.' ”

“What? Did he say he saw who took them?”

“He said he didn't, and I know he doesn't have any idea of what happened to Peaches. But he has it in his head that someone took the cats away. He talked about evil eyes again. Poor Mr. Chamberlin lives in a world of his own since he lost his family.”

I said good-night to Mark, locked the door, and double-checked the front door to make sure it was fastened. I searched each downstairs room carefully, feeling like a little girl who is sure a monster lives under her bed. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I found it when I climbed the stairs and entered my bedroom.

A fishy odor drew me to the wastepaper basket next to my desk. Inside lay an open, nearly full can of tuna.

This was a message. I had no hopes of ever seeing Pepper again.

Numb with horror and fear, I picked up the can, took it downstairs, and wrapped it securely inside a plastic bag to block the smell. In the darkness
I walked out to the garage and stuffed the bag down under the trash in the large plastic can. I. knew I should tell somebody, but I decided not to. The police wouldn't get serious about a missing cat.

I lingered on the back steps, staring out into the darkness. “Whoever you are, you're sick and you're cruel,” I whispered, “but you're not going to get away from me. I'm going to find you and stop you.”

When Mom and Dad came home around eleven-thirty, I pretended I was asleep. I had too much to think about. I lay staring into the darkness long after my parents had climbed into bed and turned out their lights.

In my mind I had already tucked them in, as though they were loving children to be protected. I didn't want to take any chance that they would restrict what I had to do by trying to protect me. That was why I'd decided not to tell them what had happened.

Step by step, I went over everything I could think about that tied into Pepper and Peaches. I ruled out our longtime neighbors as suspects. They'd been friends for years, and none of them would ever hurt a cat.

Mr. Chamberlin might have been in our house uninvited, but he would no more harm Pepper than he would Peaches, and it would have been difficult for him to climb our flight of stairs.