“Amulet?” I asked.
“A charm. Thought to be inscribed with a magic incantation to protect its owner from evil.” He grinned. “A lucky horseshoe.” He handed it back and said, “Where'd you get it?”
I hitched a thumb at Casey. “From him.”
“Ah…,” Hudson said again. And again he was looking a little too pleased for comfort.
So real fast I asked Casey, “Where'd you get it, anyway?”
He shifted in his seat. “Uh…”
He looked real uncomfortable, so I said, “It's not like I care where it came from. I'm just interested. Have you had it for a long time?”
He shook his head.
“Did you find it?”
He looked kind of sheepish, then nodded. “Last month. At the Renaissance Faire. I found it on the ground in the jousting arena.”
I'd been to that Renaissance Faire. And even though I hadn't wanted to go, Marissa had dragged me along. And I'm glad she did, too. It was amazing! It was like being transported to a different place, a different time. Everyone talked in accents and acted like they were from Merry Olde England. It was a place where if you found a horseshoe, you could almost believe that it was magical.
Now Hudson could tell that Casey was sort of embarrassed, and great guy that he is, he tried to make him feel better by saying, “My understanding is that a horseshoe isn't lucky unless it is found.”
“Yeah,” I said, lacing it back on my shoe. “And I'm glad that's where it came from. That place was fun.”
So Casey was okay about having given me something he'd found in the dirt. And after we finished our brownies, I helped Hudson carry things back inside. And when I was sure Casey couldn't hear, I whispered, “Can you give him a ride out to Sisquane? Otherwise he's going to want to walk me home.”
“Got it,” Hudson said.
So we all piled into Hudson's car, and off we went to Sisquane. And when we got to Casey's house and he was getting out of the car, I said, “Oh! I almost forgot!”
“What?”
“That song is awesome!”
He grinned. “Told you.”
So everything was, you know, cool. Only as Casey was thanking Hudson for the ride home, I saw the front door to his house open. “Uh-oh,” I said, sort of slouching in my seat. Mr. Acosta had stepped outside and he was not looking too happy.
Casey glanced over his shoulder and said, “Don't worry about him. Dad's cool. When he hears what happened, he'll understand.”
Only then we saw his mother step out beside him.
I slouched even farther, and Casey said, “Oh boy. This is gonna be fun….”
Hudson said, “Would you like me to speak with them?”
Casey shook his head. “No way. The best thing you can do is get out of here. But thanks again for the ride.” Then he looked at me and said, “See you tomorrow.”
He was already gone by the time I thought to lend him the horseshoe.
Hudson gave me a ride home, too. He didn't say anything more than, “He seems like a fine young man” about Casey, which was a relief. Most grown-ups would quiz you from here to the moon, but Hudson's not like most grown-ups.
Which is probably why I like him so much.
Anyway, we were getting near the Highrise when he said, “By the way, Miss Kitty came over today.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It seems she's missing another cat.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “She was in tears. She's been to the pound, the Humane Society, the police….”
Then I had a thought. “You think someone has a big rat infestation?”
He shrugged. “Why steal cats? There are always plenty at the pound.”
So he dropped me off, but the whole way up the fire escape his voice kind of echoed around in my head. Why steal cats? There are always plenty at the pound….
By the time I got home, there were a couple of phone calls I wanted to make. Questions I wanted to ask. Trouble is, I didn't want to have to answer a bunch of questions about why I was asking the questions, and Grams would be sure to want to know.
But—lucky me—there was a note on the kitchen table: Off to the market. Back soon. Love, Grams.
I looked up the number for the Humane Society and dialed it quick. Holly was still there, so I asked her, “How many cats do you guys have there?”
“Uh, I think four,” she told me. “And no, Zippy's not one of them.”
“How many do you guys usually have there?”
“I don't know. It varies.”
“More than four? Less than four?”
She hesitated, then asked, “Are you on to something?”
“I don't know. But can you find out?”
“Hang on.”
So I waited, and a few minutes later she was back, saying, “Overall it's less than it used to be.”
“Used to be, when?”
“She said three months ago they used to have at least ten, all the time. Sometimes up to twenty.”
“Wow.” My brain was racing, trying to figure out what to ask next. Finally I said, “What do the cats you have now have in common?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are they mangy? Are they ugly? Are they old? Is there a reason people wouldn't want them?
“Uh, let me go look at them again.”
When she came back, she said, “One of them's pretty old, but the other three are cute.”
“Cute as in small?”
“Yeah, one of them's still kind of a kitten.”
“Are they females?”
“God, Sammy, what's it matter?”
“I don't know—I'm just trying to figure this out.”
“Well, hold on, okay?”
“Fine.”
Forever later she came back, saying, “They're all females except the kitten.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That's it? What are you thinking?”
“I'm thinking that I'm going to call the pound.”
“Sammy!”
“I've got to call before they close. I'll talk to you later, okay? And thanks!”
So I called the pound, and after a bunch of back-and-forthing with the lady on the other end, I found out that the pound had only three cats, that they were all kind of scrawny females.
“Is that all?” I asked. “I mean, is that usual?”
“We've got lots of dogs if you want a good selection.”
“No. I want to know if you used to have more cats. Like, let's say six months ago?”
“Look, it's a good thing we don't have more of them. We used to have to destroy a lot more because nobody wanted them.”
“So what's changed? Does someone come in to get cats? Like a repeat customer or something?”
“We do have people who rescue animals, sure. There's one woman in particular. Actually, she came in for two today.”
“Is she…does she go by Miss Kitty?”
“Why, yes!”
All of a sudden I felt terrible about hating the Psycho Kitty Queen. Here she had a whole plantation of cats, and why? Because she couldn't stand the thought of them getting gassed.
But I made myself focus on why I was calling. “I'm sorry for all the questions, but I'm trying to figure something out.”
She laughed, but it wasn't a mean laugh. “Obviously.”
“Are there other people who come in regularly?”
“Not really.” Then she added, “Well, there was a fella who used to come in, but I haven't seen him in a while.”
“A while as in… a month? Three months? Four?”
“Maybe four? He was another one who hated to see them destroyed. He didn't keep them himself, though. He found them homes.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
“I'm sorry, but you haven't told me why you're asking all this. And I don't know if I should give you that information.”
“Okay, then just tell me this—was he about forty, with a husky build and a blond
buzz cut?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, and it was enough to make my heart start pounding.
And then, there it was, her voice in my ear, “Why… why, yes!”
* * *
That night when I went to bed, I lay there in the dark, trying to make sense of the pieces shuffling around in my head. Dead cats. Missing cats. Rescued cats. Returned cats. And I tried to fit them together with the people involved. The Psycho Kitty. El Gato. The Bulldog. Tornado Tony, Tiny, T.J.
Did they have anything to do with each other?
Things had made a lot more sense when I'd thought the Bulldog was El Gato. But now he was just a guy I'd followed across town. A guy with a twitching gym bag who had disappeared down an alley. Had he done that because he'd noticed me following him? Was he the one who'd called me? Was there any connection between him and the Kojo Buffet?
And who had taken down the Zippy flyers? Was it the same person who'd called me? I should have asked Officer Borsch about the flyers when I'd seen him at Hudson's, but I'd been too wrapped up in what had happened with Heather to think about it.
Maybe I was trying to take pieces of different puzzles and force them together. Maybe it was like El Gato not being the Bulldog. I'd tried to connect them when they didn't belong together.
Or maybe I was just obsessing about El Gato and the Bulldog and cats because I was trying to avoid thinking about Casey and Heather and the whole Acosta mess. I mean, what kind of trouble was Casey in right now? I could practically hear his parents: You went with her instead of helping your sister? Where are your priorities? What were you thinking? Candi and Heather were sure to whip the whole thing into a frothy frenzy—especially if Mrs. Acosta was jealous of my mom.
Like I needed that thrown into an already unfactorable equation.
Anyway, I saw no solution to the Acosta problem, so I went back to puzzling about cats. In my gut it felt like there had to be a connection—that it all fit together somehow. But where were the border pieces? The edges. The anchor. I needed something to build on!
But wait! Maybe this was like one of those shaped puzzles, where there are no straight edges. Maybe the pieces formed some thing. Maybe they all fit together in the shape of a cat!
Okay, I was losing it. So I cuddled up with Dorito on the couch and just stroked him gently from head to tail, over and over. I was so glad to have him back. So glad he was safe and sound and not dead in some Dumpster somewhere…
The next thing I knew it was morning and Grams was shaking me gently, going, “Samantha? Samantha, wake up!”
“Huh? Huh? Oh!” My heart was pounding in my chest. I sat up quick and tried to catch my breath.
Grams held my arm. “It was just a dream.”
I was still panting. My eyes were darting all around. It felt so… real.
“What was it?”
“Oh!”
“Tell me!”
“I was, um, I was stuck in an elevator…” I didn't want to tell her it was the Heavenly Hotel's elevator, but that's what it was, clear as day. “With Heather… and her friends.”
“Oh,” she laughed. “That was a nightmare.”
I was having trouble catching my breath. I felt so claustrophobic. It was like I was still trapped in the elevator with them. I couldn't run, and they were all over me. Hissing. Clawing. Yanking my hair.
Grams sat down beside me. “Sweetheart, you look white as a ghost. It was just a dream…”
“I know.” I got up and paced around. I couldn't seem to shake the feeling of… terror.
“Did something happen to make you dream about her? Is she causing you trouble at school again?”
I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. I hadn't told Grams what had happened after school because I knew she'd have a fit and maybe even call the school. But I was so out of sorts from my dream that I wasn't thinking fast enough to just say, Nah. Everything's cool. And then she noticed my neck. “Samantha? How'd you get those scratches?”
“Uh…” I was still wiped out from my dream and couldn't seem to think of a single Grams-worthy excuse. So after blinking at her a minute, I just gave in and said, “Heather happened to my neck. Actually, Monet did.” Then I told her the whole story—how I was listening to a CD, how they ambushed me, how she pinned me down and tried to steal my horseshoe.
“Your horseshoe? Why your horseshoe?”
“Because she thinks it's bringing me good luck.”
“But Samantha, that's ridiculous. To go through all that for a lucky charm? What am I missing?”
“Well… Casey gave it to me.”
“Ohhhh,” she said.
“But it's more than that. You should have heard her when she attacked me. She said I ruined her birthday— that I stole her birthday—and that Mom is now stealing her dad.”
“What?”
“See? She's losing it. She said her dad is all ‘enchanted' by Mom.”
Grams shook her head. “That girl is poisoned by jealousy. And she attacked you.” She stood up. “I'm going to call the police!”
“Grams, Grams, whoa, whoa! The police have already been called.”
“And…?”
“And they're not going to file any charges or anything against me.”
“Against you? Why on earth would they file charges against you?”
I was starting to feel a whole lot better. Talking to Grams was like finding a way out of the elevator. So I shrugged and said, “Because I beat the three of them up.”
“You what?”
So I gave her the blow-by-blow of the fight and told her about Casey showing up. And when I got to the part about Officer Borsch stopping by Hudson's, she said, “But how did he know to find you there?”
“He's seen me there before. I think he knows I hang out there.”
When I'd finally gotten the whole story out and had answered all Grams' questions, she turned my head to the side and tisked over my neck. “Those catty girls.”
Dorito hopped into my lap, and I stroked him, saying, “You're nothing like that, are you, boy?”
So, okay. I couldn't say Heather and her bratty friends hadn't put a scratch on me, but when I saw Tenille and Monet before school, I had to laugh. I mean, I wore a collared shirt, so you couldn't really see the marks on my neck, but even an inch of makeup couldn't conceal the black eye I'd given Monet, or the dark circles under both Tenille's eyes.
“Oh my god, Sammy!” Marissa said when she saw me on campus. “Everybody's saying you broke Tenille's nose! And you did break Heather's arm!”
“Oh, I did not….”
“You did! She's wearing a cast. I saw it with my own two eyes!”
I said, “Yeah, right. It's probably like the cast she wore on her nose, remember that?” because way back in September I got in a whole lot of trouble when she pretended I'd broken her nose.
“No! This is for real! And she's totally milking it! She's telling everyone you attacked her! Sammy, what happened? Why didn't you call me?”
Then Holly and Dot descended on us and started telling me exactly what Marissa had just told me. So I let out a big sigh and explained what had happened. And when I was all done, Marissa didn't focus on Casey coming to my rescue, or ask me anything I sort of expected her to ask. Instead, she said, “So wait a minute—the buses came by while they were ganging up on you?”
“Yeah.”
“So there you go—you have nothing to worry about.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kids saw! They know!”
“Yeah,” Holly added. “Just stay cool and say Heather started it.”
Dot nodded. “By the end of the day everyone'll know what really happened.”
“Fat chance,” I snorted.
But all day my friends hung close, and they told people the truth. And by lunch I noticed something very strange—kids were whispering about me, but it wasn't a backstabbing kind of whispering. It was more like they couldn't believe that someone as scrawny as
me could take down cats as wild as Heather and her friends.
Then at lunch Vice Principal Caan came out to the grass where we were eating, and instead of shooing us back to the lunch tables, he took me aside and whispered, “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I asked him, not really knowing what angle he was coming from.
“Did you really neutralize all three of them?”
I laughed. “I like the way you put that.” Then I nodded and said, “I swear I didn't start it—they ganged up on me.”
He nodded. “That's the word in the halls. And the bus drivers confirmed it.”
My eyebrows went up. “Really?” And then my jaw dropped when Mr. Caan chuckled and whispered, “When is that girl going to learn?”
So things at school turned out a whole lot better than they might have. What I was sort of worried about, though, was Casey. I hadn't seen him all day. I even looked for him between classes and at the beginning of lunch, but I didn't spot him anywhere. I kept hoping he'd come by the lawn where he'd found us before, but finally I got fed up with hoping and said, “I'm gonna go find Casey.”
Marissa bit down a smile. Dot did, too. And Holly looked away.
“Knock it off,” I told them. “I just want to find out how much trouble he's in at home.”
“Right.”
“Sure.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut up!” I said, but they all just laughed.
I ran over to the cafeteria, but I didn't actually have to go inside. Casey was coming out just as I got to the door. “Oh hey!” he said. “I was just coming to see you.” He looked over his shoulder, into the cafeteria. “Were you…?” He looked back at me. “Are you getting something to eat?”
I felt myself turning red, but I said it anyway. “No, I was looking for you.”
A little smile smoothed out his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want to know what happened with your parents. Are you in trouble?”
“Nah.” Then he added, “Well, with my mom, yeah. And my sister”—he rolled his eyes—”majorly… but what else is new?” Then he grinned and said, “But I live with my dad, not them, so it's cool.”
We started walking. And I don't even know where we were going. We just kind of walked around. Talking.
Laughing.
And I couldn't help feeling that I was lucky.