The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller (9 page)

Felicia backed under the bed as Wally’s boots clomped toward her.

The sound of the SUV starting up and pulling out of the garage drew Sparrow to the open window. “Hey, your dad’s leaving.”

“Of course he is. It’s Friday night. He’s goin’ down to Murphy’s to get shit-faced like he does every Friday. Tomorrow he won’t even remember we had words. I told you dips not to worry. I know him like a fuckin’ book. Here, fire it up.”

Wally plopped his ass on the bed, which groaned and bowed even lower, almost pinning Felicia’s body to the floor. Her whiskers tickled as they sunk into the ratty shag carpet and the dust bunnies almost made her sneeze. She heard a cheap lighter being flicked several times before finally catching fire, followed by the unmistakable bubbling of water in a bong.

“Anybody hear anything?” Wally asked.

Someone coughed and a cloud of smoke rolled like a waterfall down the side of the bed. Felicia tried to hold her breath as it spread in her direction but couldn’t avoid sucking in a lungful of the musty pot smoke.

“Heard what?” boy number five asked, his voice a pinched whisper as he did his best to hold in a lungful of smoke. Then he coughed loudly, and another dragon’s breath of smoke floated down to assault Felicia’s tiny cat lungs.

“Heard what the fuck do you think I’m talking about, asshole?” snapped Wally. “I’m talking about Felicia.”

“I didn’t hear nothin’,” said Sparrow. “I don’t think the little cunt was brave enough to tell anybody anything.”

Felicia bristled with feline fury. But she was also getting worried, and with good reason. After gathering the information she came for, making a clean exit was going to be dicey. The pot smoke was overwhelming her. Even a second hand hit was a huge dose in her diminutive lungs.  She wondered how steady she’d be on four stoned legs. Could she make it out the open door or window without being seen?

“That fucking bald-headed bitch stopped me in the hallway,” said Wally, “And told me some shit was going down.”

“Ruta?” said Sparrow. “You can’t believe nothing that bitch says. Everybody knows she’s a stoned psycho. Has been… ever since we…”

“Yeah. If anything was going down we would have heard about it by now.” The fifth boy was speaking again. His voice sounded teasingly familiar but Felicia still couldn’t place it. Her ears were still a little off.

“No doubt,” Marky added. “If anybody reported anything to your dad, or if Felicia had gone to the hospital or some shit, they would have started an investigation by now and believe me, we’d have been the first to know.”

“I guess you guys are right,” Wally conceded, sounding a little less anxious. “Rootie-toot-toota was probably just jerking my chain. She prob’ly figured I had to feel guilty about something. Since at any given moment I usually am guilty of some shit, y’know.”

“She’s probably just trying to provoke you so you’ll give her more attention. Chicks love bad boys.”

“We should drag her out to the Point for another work-out.”

“Yeah. Bald head or not I’d still hit it.”

“Her and Felicia,” said Sparrow, “We could get them to put on a show together. The lickety split girls.”

Wally snorted an explosive laugh and coughed out a huge cloud of smoke. Under the bed, Felicia was burning with rage but making a concerted effort to restrain her feline temper. She was whacked half out of her head on pot smoke and trying to plot a way out of the room before she was too stoned to walk.

“I’m definitely ready for an encore with Felicia,” said boy five, his voice low and smooth. “That shit was tight.”

“Well she did claim to be a virgin.”

Felicia’s lips curled over her fangs and a hiss escaped before she could stop it.

“Shh!” It was Marky. “Did you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Wally.

“I heard it,” said Sparrow. “Sounded like a snake hissing.”

“You guys are fuckin’ losing it.”

“Maybe your house is, like, haunted or something. That would be cool.”

“Haunted by a snake?” Marky asked. “Do snakes even have ghosts?”

“Shut up and hand me the bong.”

The bed creaked as someone leaned across the mattress to pass the bong.

“Watch it, dude!”

“Whoa!”

“Look out!”

Suddenly the plexiglas bong clattered to the floor, dumping a pile of glowing ash that was quickly extinguished by the foul-smelling water spilling out.

“Fuck!”

Felicia recoiled from the overpowering stench of tar as the filthy brown water seeped into the carpet spreading toward her. Suddenly Wally’s hands slapped down on the floor and his face appeared just a foot away, dangling upside down in front of her as he reached for the fallen bong. His eyes went wide when he saw her under the bed.

“What the fuck?!”

“What?”

Wally somersaulted off the bed, his boots thumping hard on the floor. “There’s a fucking cat in my room.”

“Cat?”

“Under the fucking bed.” He dropped to his knees and made a sudden grab for Felicia, but her reflexes were faster and she scurried back out of reach.

“It looks like the same fuckin’ cat from the other day. The one we treated to a free paint job.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

“It must like you, dude. It followed you home.”

“Maybe it wants a touch-up.”

“Or wants to get fucked up the ass. After all, it came to your bedroom.”

“I’ll give it a fuckin’ touch-up alright. Well, come on. Don’t just sit on your lazy friggin’ asses. Help me catch the little prick.”

Felicia retreated to the wall and cowered under the head-board as the boys climbed off the bed. She watched helplessly as their feet surrounded the bed.

“Here, kitty kitty. Come out, come out… and get your pretty neck wrung.”

“I wonder what cat meat tastes like.”

“Tastes like pussy, what else?”

“Tuna?”

“You are what you eat, right?”

“Dude, I don’t want to get scratched. Where’s your fucking paintball gun? We can drive it out in the open.”

“Forget that shit, it’s down in the garage. Just use your belts to scare it out.”

“Capitol idea.”

They slipped their belts off. Heavy nickel buckles clunked on the floorboards. Then they squatted low and started swinging their belts wildly under the bed. Felicia flattened herself against the wall. The metal buckles whipped past her with deadly intent, cracking occasional sparks as they smacked into each other or hit the metal legs of the bed frame.

“Ow! Watch it!” someone cried as a buckle hit a knuckle. “Damn that shit hurts.”

“Hold it, hold it!” Wally yelled. “Stop a minute. Here, whoa, let me in there.”

The buckles stopped flailing. A moment later Wally’s beefy arm slid under the bed, clutching a foot-long screwdriver. Felicia darted from side to side as he stabbed at her blindly with the long metal shaft, trying to impale her.

A ripple of feline rage rolled up her backbone and her eyes blazed with anger. As the screwdriver jabbed past her again she lashed out with a lightning quick paw. Her claws snagged the soft flesh near Wally’s thumb and dug deep as he jerked his hand back for another strike.

Wally screamed and dropped the screwdriver, rolling away from the bed. He clutched his injured hand. Blood ran freely from the torn webbing near his thumb. “Motherfucker! Close the goddamn window. Quick!”

“What happened?”

“Close the goddamn window, goddammit! The little fucker nailed me. I’m gonna make sure I squash that little shit into a bloody cat pancake.”

Felicia heard the thunk of old wood as the window slammed shut.
Shit. Now I’m trapped for real. Should have gotten out when I could.

Without warning a hockey stick shot toward her like a bolt of wooden lightning. But her reflexes were quicker and she leapt straight up like her feet were on pogo springs. The heavy stick swept the air beneath her and slammed into the wall with a vengeance, punching a hole in the old wooden baseboard. Felicia dropped down on top of it, then slid off as Wally yanked the stick back for another murderous attempt. Instead of waiting around to see if she would get lucky again, Felicia darted from under the bed.

“There he is!”

“Get him!”

Belt buckles whizzed past her on all sides banging the floor like hammers. Wally bashed his hockey stick down with a fury.

Felicia zigged and zagged across the floor miraculously dodging their blows. She ran to the bedroom door but discovered it was closed tight and wouldn’t be nearly as easy to open from this side. She stood on her back paws and scratched at the edge but it was hopeless; she couldn’t budge it an inch.

Turning back she saw Wally glaring down at her. He raised the hockey stick and spread his legs, planting himself like a goalie. His eyes burned with hatred.
Shit, I let myself be cornered.

“Now I got you, you furry little fuck.”

Felicia looked past him, assessing her options. The other boys stood behind him, watching in anticipation. Their belts hung loose in their hands, buckles ready to finish her off if she somehow got past Wally.
But even if I could, the window is closed. I’m dead meat.

Wally stomped his foot in her direction, trying to spook her.

Felicia’s fur stood on end. She hissed and backed into the corner near the door. Wishing she were a tiger who could finish them off without shedding a drop of sweat.

Her eyes flew around the room again, studying every stick of furniture and possible place to hide.

Wally swung the hockey stick violently down at her. Felicia sprang to the side just in time and rebounded toward him. Her claws shot out and she buried them in his crotch.

Wally stumbled backwards, shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. Felicia hung on, swinging from his jeans like a pendulum, claws embedded in his genitals. The hockey stick quivered uncertainly and for an instant the boys thought Wally would smash himself in the nuts in a desperate bid to dislodge her. Instead he threw the stick down and tried to get a grip on the wriggling feline. But she arched her back and kicked at his hands with her strong back claws, fending off his attempt.

“Ow! Shit!” Wally cried. “Get him the fuck off me! He’s clawing my motherfuckin’ balls!”

The other boys stood frozen by the spectacle, secretly amused by their bossy leader’s painful predicament.

Wally swung his fist at Felicia’s head. She ducked but his knuckles glanced off her shoulder and she finally released her grip, dropping to the floor between his legs. Her eyes looked through them to a brass pole lamp that stood in the corner on the far side of the bed. Wally lunged down to grab her but she sprang through his open legs and onto the bed, dodging a furious barrage of belt buckles pummeling the mattress around her.

She bounced off the bed, hit the wall with all four feet, and caromed like a cue ball toward the tall standing lamp. Crashing into the tarnished brass pole she locked her claws around it and rode it as it started to topple.

The window exploded in a thousand shards of glass as the top of the lamp crashed through it. Felicia released her grip and was launched like a stone from a catapult. She stretched her legs forward and backward, making herself thin as she rocketed through the hole in the broken windowpane. Holding her breath as jagged daggers of glass brushed her fur with their deadly tips.

The frantic voices of the boys erupted behind her. She cleared the window without a scratch and spread herself wide like a flying squirrel. Sailing into the brisk night air.

She soared past the porch roof and saw the ground several meters below. A half-dead clump of marigolds offered the only promising landing pad, surrounded by gravel and hard packed soil.

Instinctively she fanned her tail wide and shifted it like a rudder. A second later she flopped down hard on the rotting mound of flowers. She lay there breathless, lungs knocked flat by the impact.

She realized that the voices of the boys had faded from the bedroom then heard their clomping footsteps charging down the stairs like a herd of angry rhinos.

Tearing herself free from the withered tangle of marigolds she ran for her life. She made it across the front yard and slipped into the woods just as the front door banged open and the angry curses of the gang rang through the night.

81

The cafeteria buzzed with the vibrant energy of high school students on a bright autumn day. Felicia set her tray down at the end of a table and smiled as Ruta took the seat across from her.

“How’s the tuna?” asked Ruta, eyeing Felicia’s lunch tray doubtfully.

“I have a craving. Funny, I was never really big on fish before. Now I can’t get enough of it.”

“Tell me about it. I get the munchies whenever I see those meaty little rats in the biology lab.”

“Ew.”

“Relax. I’d never act on it. At least not in my human form, anyway.”

“When did you…?”