Friend Or Fiend? (4 page)

“We don't know when Fluzzy was born,” I reminded her.

“But April twenty-eighth is the day we found him,” she said. “Exactly one year ago. Charlie was babysitting that night too. And it was pouring down rain just like now.” Bang! Another clap of thunder. The Great One stuck the cotton back in her ear. Then

she called, “Uno.” I knew she would win. She always wins.

“We should have a party for Fluzzy,” she said.

“Should we make hats?” I asked. “First cupcakes,” the Great One said. “Then hats.” She jumped up from the table. “Pointy hats or the other kind?” I asked. “You choose.”

“Really... I get to choose?” The Great One hardly ever lets me choose.

Charlie followed the Great One. “I'm not much of a baker,” she said.

“Don't worry,” the Great One said. “I know how to bake cupcakes.”

The Great One stood on a step stool at the kitchen counter and lined up everything she needed for the cupcakes.

“I only eat white cupcakes,” I reminded her. “With white frosting on top.”

“You think I don't know that?” she said.

“I thought maybe you forgot.”

“Well, I didn't.”

“Okay.” Then I got an idea. I'd make place mats for the party. I know how to make place mats because we made them at school for restaurant day. So I got some paper and markers. I started making a picture of a dark and stormy night. I put lightning in the sky. Next I drew a small cat. He was lost and scared and wet. “Remember how we heard Fluzzy meowing outside the kitchen door?” I asked.

“I heard him first,” the Great One said. “And I ran to the kitchen door.”

“No, you didn't! I ran to the kitchen door.”

“You followed me,” the Great One said.

“No, you followed me!”

Charlie said, “I think all three of us got there at the same time.”

“But I saw him first!” the Great One said. “He was so wet and ...”

“. . . he was shaking,” I added.

“I hate when you finish my sentences,” the Great One said.

“Abigail,” Charlie said. “Are you paying attention to the recipe?”

“Yes,” the Great One said.

The thunder was moving away now, but it was still raining. I made another place mat. This time I drew Mom and Dad when they saw Fluzzy for the first time. Only he wasn't Fluzzy then. He was

The lost cat.

When Mom and Dad got home that night they were really surprised to see a cat slurping milk from a saucer. “What's this?” Mom asked.

“This is Fluffy!” the Great One said.

“No, it's Fuzzy!” I said. “We saved him from the storm.”

“But who does he belong to?” Mom asked.

[Image: Fluffy and Fuzzy]

“He belongs to us now,” the Great One sang.

We begged Mom and Dad to let us keep him.

But Mom said, “First we'll have to find out if his owner is looking for him.”

And Dad said, “In the morning we'll call the animal shelter.”

“And we'll put an ad in the paper,” Mom added.

“Why?” the Great One asked.

“Because that's the right thing to do,” Dad said. “If you lost your pet, you'd want the person who found him to return him to you, wouldn't you?”

“I'd never let my pet get lost,” she said.

We made him a bed with some old towels. He curled up, yawned, and closed his eyes.

“Good night, Fluffy,” the Great One said. “Good night, Fuzzy,” I said. The two of us went upstairs to get ready for bed.

“His name is Fluffy,” the Great One said as we brushed our teeth.

“No, it's Fuzzy I” I argued. My mouth was full of toothpaste.

“Fluffy!”

“Fuzzy!”

We both dribbled toothpaste down our chins.

Three days went by. No one knew anything about a lost cat. Not the police. Not the an-imal shelter. Not the newspaper. Nobody put up a LOST CAT sign with a picture. So we took him to the vet.

The vet told us he was healthy and not even a year old. “What's his name?” she asked.

“Fuzzy,” I answered.

“No, it's Fluffy!” the Great One said.

That night Fuzzy was curled up on Mom's lap, purring. She said, “If we're keeping him, it's time to decide on a name.”

“I have decided,” the Great One said. “It's Fluffy.”

“I've decided too,” I said. “And it's Fuzzy!”

Dad said, “He needs one name. So how about a combination of Fluffy and Fuzzy?”

“You mean like Fuffy7.” the Great One said. “No cat wants to be called Fuffy\”

“No cat wants to be called Zuffy, either,” I said.

And then all four of us started throwing out combinations. “Yuzzy?” “Luffy?” “Uzzy?” “Zyuff? ”Fyzu?"

“Fyzu,” Dad said. “I kind of like that one.”

“Daaad ...” the Great One said, shaking her head. I shook mine, too. No way were we calling our cat Fyzu. Instead, the Great One started to say, “It has to be Fl . . .”

And I finished with “... uzzy” We

looked at each other and laughed. Then we high-fived to seal the deal.

And that's how Fluzzy got his name.

Everything was ready for Fluzzy's party. When the storm ended Fluzzy came back to the kitchen. The Pain said, “Guess what, Fluzz? You're having a party!”

“Don't tell him!” I called. “You'll spoil the surprise.”

“You think he knows what party means?” the Pain asked.

“Stop ...” I said, “before you ruin everything.”

“When do we put on his par ...” the Pain started to say. Then he stopped and started again. This time he spelled it out. “When do we put his h-a-t on him?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said.

When we heard the front door open Charlie grabbed her backpack and umbrella. “Wish I could stay for the you-know-what” she said. “But I have a class at the college tonight.”

As Mom and Dad came into the kitchen I yelled, “Surprise!”

“Are we celebrating something?” Dad asked Mom. “Did I forget our anniversary?”

Mom laughed. “Our anniversary is in June.”

“Then what?” Dad said.

“We're celebrating Fluzzy's birthday!” The Pain danced around like he always does when he's excited. "He came to live

with us one year ago. April twenty-eighth. Remember?"

“It was my idea,” I told Mom and Dad. “I'm the one who remembered.”

“What a good memory you have, Abigail,” Mom said.

“I have a good memory too,” the Pain said.

“But not as good as mine,” I argued. “I have the best memory in the family. Just ask Grandma. She's always saying so.”

“I remember that night,” Dad said. “It was raining even harder than tonight.”

I cooed at Fluzzy. “And you were just a lost wet kitty, weren't you?” Fluzzy meowed. I handed party hats to Mom and Dad. They put them on. I tried to get Fluzzy to wear his, too. But he kept shaking it off, then biting it. “Stop that, Fluzzy,” I said.

The Pain laughed.

Dad got his camera. After a couple of pictures, Mom started sniffing. “Is something in the oven?” she asked.

“Oh, no. ...” I ran for the oven, with Mom right behind me. She grabbed the pot holders and lifted out the tray of cupcakes. But it was too late. “They're ruined!” I cried.

Mom tried scraping off the burned part, but nothing helped. What was left of them

was hard as wood. “It's all Jake's fault!” I said, then burst into tears.

“My fault?” the Pain said. “What did I do?”

“He kept distracting me.” I could hardly get the words out, I was crying so hard.

“That's why I forgot to set the timer. And Charlie doesn't even know how to bake! I had to do everything myself.”

“Oh, honey .. .” Mom hugged me. “You must be so disappointed.”

“I am. I had it all planned. We were supposed to have ice cream with our cupcakes.” I caught the Pain watching me. “Stop staring at me!” I told him.

“I'm not staring.”

“Yes, you are!”

“Who'd want to stare at you?”

“We can still have ice cream,” Dad said. He opened the freezer and lined up the flavors. “What kind for you, Jake?”

“Why bother to ask him when you already know the answer?” I was sniffling now.

“Abigail. . .” Dad began.

“I'll have vanilla,” the Pain told Dad. “The white kind, not the yellow. In a dish, not a cone.”

“How unusual,” I said.

Dad took a deep breath. “Abigail. . .” he said again.

“Oh, that's right,” I said. “The little baby can't have a cone because it's not white!”

This time Dad said, “Abigail... we're all sorry about the cupcakes. But remember what we said about being sarcastic?”

Sarcastic is the same as talking fresh. We're not supposed to talk to each other that way because we're a family. The Pain is never fresh in front of Mom or Dad. When he feels like dissing me he does it in private. Then he says Ha ha! I hate hate hate when he says Ha ha!

Dad handed the Pain a dish of ice cream.

“You're making him into such a baby,” I said.

“I'm not a baby!” he shouted.

“Baby is as baby does!” I shouted back. He hates when I call him a baby.

“Abigail, stop this right now,” Dad said.

“Why can't he just eat like everyone else?” I asked.

“He will when he's ready,” Mom said.

“When will that be? When he's twenty-five? I'll bet he wouldn't have a clue if you blindfolded him and fed him different foods. I'll bet he wouldn't be able to tell what color food he was eating then.”

“Bet I could!” he said.

“Okay . .. let's do an experiment,” I said. “My science teacher says we should always be looking for experiments we can do at home.”

Dad said, “That would be an interesting experiment, but Jake would have to agree.”

“I don't agree,” he said. “I'm never going to agree!”

“You spoil him because he's the favorite,” I cried. “It's disgusting!”

“Oh, honey . . .” Mom said, hugging me again. “You know that's not true. You know we don't have favorites.”

“That's what you say, but I can tell you love him best.” I felt myself choking up again.

“Abigail, sweetie ...” Dad said.

The Pain said, “I don't care if you love her best, because Fluzzy loves me best. So there!” He picked up Fluzzy and let him lick some of his ice cream.

“Fluzzy loves me as much as he loves you!” I shouted.

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

I tried to take Fluzzy away from him. But Fluzzy jumped down and ran around us in circles.

“Isn't this supposed to be a party for Fluzzy?” Dad asked, handing me a chocolate ice cream cone.

“She ruined the party !” the Pain said, pointing at me. “Her and her stupid cupcakes!”

“What did you say?”

“I said you ruined the party crying over your stupid cupcakes. But who cares, because Fluzzy doesn't need a party to know I love him ... so ha ha!”

That did it! I flew across the room and smushed my ice cream cone against the Pain's forehead. It stuck there. He looked like a unicorn! The ice cream started

dripping down his face. When it got to his mouth he stuck out his tongue and lapped it up. “Um . . . good . . .”

“Did you hear that?” I asked Mom and Dad. “It's chocolate! My unicorn is eating chocolate ice cream!”

“I'm not your unicorn. I'm your brother! And I'll always be your brother.” He grabbed the ice cream cone off his forehead, took a look, saw that it was chocolate, then kept licking it anyway.

“And I'll always be your sister,” I told him. “Your big sister. And don't you forget it!”

“How could I forget?”

“You can't. Because if it weren't for me you'd still be eating vanilla ice cream!” Now he wasn't just tasting my ice cream, he was gobbling it up as fast as he could. “He's eating my whole ice cream cone!” I cried.

Mom said, “Don't worry about it.” And she made me another one.

After our ice cream we all sang "Happy

Birthday" to Fluzzy. And this time when Dad snapped a picture, I think even Fluzzy smiled.

[Page Blank]

Hats, hats, hats! Hats for cold white stuff. Hats for wet stuff. Hats for riding on wheels.

But no hats for Fluzzy!

She wanted me to wear hats.

That girl with tails coming out of her ears.

I hissed to tell her I don't like hats.

But she didn't get it. She called me Mister.

What kind of name is that?

That boy was even worse.

He tried to push me into the bathtub.

Don't you want to learn to swim? he said.

No, I didn't want to learn to swim!

So I hissed and I stuck out my claws.

He pulled my tail.

I tried to bite him before he bit me.

They chased me through the house.

Stupid cat! she called.

When the door opened I flew out.

I ran as fast as I could

And as far as I could.

I was never going to let them find me.

When the big booms came

I was scared. But I kept going.

When the sky lit up I shook all over.

But I kept going.

When the water fell from the sky

I got wet. But I still kept going.

I kept going until

I was too tired to run anymore.

I cried, Meow . . . meow . . .

A door opened. I ran inside.

A different boy and girl lived here.

Ohhh . . . he's so wet, she said.

And he's shaking, he said.

Poor little kitty!

They dried me.

They gave me milk

And a soft place to sleep.

When the mom asked,

But who does he belong to?

I didn't tell.

Besides, I never really belonged to other two, Even if they didn't know it.

These two were different. They called me Fluffy. Or maybe it was Fuzzy. No, wait... it was Fluzzy-Anything was better than Mister

After that I was happy Until the cold white day When I saw them again. Two Tails and Tail Puller. I heard Two Tails say, 1 know that cat! That cat looks just like Mister.

When she said that my fur stood up.

My whiskers stuck out.

Tail Puller said, “Mister was a bad cat!”

That did it!

I leaped across the cold white stuff

And crept under the house.