Claws!

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. I forced my hands to stop shaking. And I spun the dial to the three combination numbers.

  Another deep breath. Then I tugged off the lock and swung the locker door open.

  “Noooooo!”

  I screamed as it came tumbling out.

  It jumped out—bounced off my chest—and onto my knee.

  25

  No. Not a cat.

  Not a cat. One of my black-and-white gym sneakers.

  It bounced off my knee and thudded to the floor.

  “Oh, wow.” I shook my head. I balled my hands into fists. I felt so angry at myself for being in a total panic.

  Even a gym sneaker terrified me.

  I dropped onto the nearest bench and waited for my heartbeat to slow down to normal. I picked up the sneaker and rolled it around in my hands.

  Weird. Something was tucked inside of the shoe.

  Oh, nooo. Something feathery and gray.

  I pulled it out. And with a loud cry, tossed it across the locker room.

  A dead bird. A sparrow with its head dangling by a thread.

  Another gift from a cat?

  I jumped to my feet, tossed the sneaker into the locker, and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed through the empty room.

  Then I heard a cat’s yowl. A long, shrill yeeeooow that sent a chill down my back.

  “No! Shut up!” I screamed. “Shut up! Go away! Leave me alone!”

  “Yeeeeoowwwwww.”

  Right behind me.

  I spun around. No cat there.

  “Leave me alone!” I cried. I clapped my hands over my ears.

  But even with my ears covered, I could hear the yowls and cries of the cats. Not just one. Several cats now. All meowing and yowling at once.

  The terrifying cries rang from all around me.

  I pressed my hands tighter against the sides of my face, as if trying to force them away. But it seemed to only make their cries louder and more frightening.

  “Where are you?” I screamed. “Why are you following me?”

  I had to get out of there. I had to find help.

  I lurched toward the locker room door. But I tripped over something.

  A cat? A cat I couldn’t see?

  I landed hard on my knees on the concrete floor. Pain shot up my legs.

  Meeeeeyowwwww!

  And then the yowling turned to hisses. Angry hisses all around me.

  So close. So close.

  The hisses came at me in a steady rhythm. As if all the invisible cats were breathing together.

  I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe. Or move.

  Invisible cats. I was surrounded by angry, invisible cats.

  I shut my eyes. I wanted to be far away.

  When I opened them, the cats were standing in front of me. I could SEE them!

  How many were there? Eight? No. Ten? More! Scrawny. Their fur matted and tangled, with patches of skin showing through holes in the fur.

  Their eyes glowed bright yellow. Like monsters in a horror movie. Their open mouths revealed pointed yellow fangs.

  They formed a circle around me. Their backs arched. Their fur stood on end.

  I raised my arms to shield myself. But what could I do against so many hissing, angry cats?

  They all pounced at once.

  Flung their claws in the air and leaped at me from every side.

  “HELP me!” I managed to scream before I went down. Before I sank to the floor beneath the hissing, snapping, clawing attackers.

  “HELP me! Can anyone HEAR me? I need HELP!”

  26

  On my back now, I wrestled with them. Struggled to push them off me.

  Their fur was dry and bristly. And their bodies felt COLD.

  “Help me!” I tried to choke out a scream. But a cat leaped onto my face and pressed its cold belly over my mouth and nose.

  I shoved it away. Sucked in a deep breath.

  And heard a pounding sound. Someone pounding on the locker room door.

  “Who’s in there?” a man called. “Who locked this door?”

  I recognized his voice. Mr. Weston, the gym teacher. Mr. Weston is a big guy with a huge stomach, shaggy long hair, and a bushy mustache. He’s totally out of shape. He doesn’t look anything like a gym teacher.

  But I was sure glad to hear him out there.

  His fists boomed on the door again. “Who locked this? Open up!”

  At the sound of his voice, the cats froze. They all stiffened as if frightened. Their glowing eyes dulled until they were dark. The eyes appeared to sink into their sockets.

  The cats scrambled off me. They ran with their heads down, scraggly tails trailing behind them. Into the shower room at the back wall.

  I sat up. I brushed myself off furiously. Cat fur flew into the air.

  I was gasping for breath. Breathing so hard, my chest hurt.

  Mr. Weston pounded again on the locker room door. Each blow thundered through the room. “Who is in there? Who locked this?”

  I forced myself to my feet. I staggered to the door on trembling legs.

  I turned the lock. The door swung open fast. I had to jump back to keep from being hit.

  The gym teacher stood staring at me. Several kids were bunched up behind him.

  “Mickey?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “What’s going on? You look a mess. What were you doing in here?”

  “Cats,” I managed to say in a tiny, weak voice. “The cats —” I pointed to the shower room.

  He squinted at me. “Cats?”

  I turned and motioned for him to follow me. I led the way to the shower room.

  Of course, I knew the cats wouldn’t be there when we looked in.

  And they weren’t.

  I waited for the other guys in my class to change their clothes. When they ran to the gym to play volleyball, I stepped up to the locker room mirror.

  To my surprise, I had only a few scratches.

  I pulled a wad of orange cat fur from my hair. It made me shudder. I glanced around the locker room, expecting the hissing cats to return.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Weston gazed down at me. “Mickey, are you coming out for class?”

  “I—I don’t think so,” I said. “I … don’t feel too great.”

  He nodded. “Well, you can come out and watch,” he said. “Or do you want to see the nurse?”

  “The nurse can’t help me,” I muttered.

  He nodded again, turned, and walked out of the locker room.

  The nurse can’t help me, I thought. Who can?

  Who can I talk to about my cat problem?

  Amanda was the only one who knew about Bella and what we did at Cat Heaven. But even she didn’t believe me when I told her I was being haunted by cats.

  I knew I had to talk to her. She had to help me. She had to believe me.

  The afternoon dragged and dragged. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion.

  Miss Harris started the Civil War again. I tried to take notes, but I just couldn’t think straight.

  Every noise made me jump. Every high voice or cry or laugh in the classroom made me think the cats were back.

  I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t stop shaking my legs and tapping the desktop with both hands. I kept alert, gazing under chairs and desks, looking for cats. I expected a cat to attack me any moment.

  I’d never been so stressed and jumpy in my life.

  When the bell rang, I left my books and backpack and ran across the room to Amanda. “We—we need to talk,” I said breathlessly. “About the cat.”

  “Not now,” she said. She turned away and began to stuff things into her backpack. Then she began to paw through her big canvas bag. “Where did I put my bus pass?”

  “Bus pass? Where are you going?” I cried. “I’m desperate. I have to talk to you.”

  She made a face at me. “You know I have my flute lesson today.”

  “Skip it,” I said.

  “I c
an’t skip it,” she insisted, pulling out the bus pass. “Our recital is Sunday, and I’ve got to practice. Bach is really hard, you know.”

  “I don’t know about Bach,” I said. “I only know I’m being haunted. I think—I think we have to take Bella back to Cat Heaven.”

  “No way!” Amanda said, pushing me away. “Later, okay? Save your ghost stories for tonight. You’re going to make me late.”

  She tossed both bags over her shoulder and ran out of the classroom.

  I stood there staring until she disappeared. Ghost stories?

  This wasn’t a ghost story. This was real. This was my life.

  Shaking my head, I gathered up my stuff and headed out into the hall. Some guys at their lockers turned and meowed at me.

  I laughed, pretending it was funny. Showing them I’m a good guy and can take a joke.

  Some joke.

  The sound of their meows made my stomach tighten.

  I walked past a group of cheerleaders in their red-and-yellow uniforms. They were practicing a cheer as they walked to the gym.

  I stepped outside into a cool, gray afternoon. Low clouds overhead. I felt a raindrop and then another raindrop on my forehead.

  I was walking past the soccer field, nearly to the street, when I saw the three men in gray work uniforms. Lou and his two buddies. Standing together on the grass.

  I glanced around. I was out in the open. Nowhere to hide.

  Did they recognize me?

  Yes.

  All three men began waving wildly as they came racing across the soccer field toward me.

  “Hey, you!” Lou shouted. He stuck his arm straight out and pointed at me. “Freeze! Stop right there!”

  27

  Should I talk to them? Or run?

  I wanted this to be over. I wanted to tell someone the whole story.

  But the angry looks on their faces told me they wouldn’t want to listen. They wanted to punish me for stealing.

  So I ran.

  I darted into the street. Tires squealed. A car swerved to avoid me. The driver sent out a long, angry horn blast.

  I froze in panic in the middle of the street. I glanced around. No way to escape them if I ran down the block. They were too close and coming on fast.

  “Hey, stop! Wait right there, kid!”

  They were shouting and waving, their feet pounding the pavement. Then they leaped off the curb, onto the street.

  My breath came out in short wheezes. My heart fluttered in my chest. I was so frightened, I bit my tongue.

  “Owww.” The sharp pain moved me into action.

  I spun around. And dodged between two parked SUVs. I sprinted between a bunch of kids on bikes. And raced toward the school building.

  I’ll be safe there, I told myself. Safer than on the street.

  They won’t follow me into the school.

  And there are plenty of places to hide in there.

  “Stop!” Lou shouted behind me. “You’re in big trouble! Stop right now!”

  “Somebody grab that kid!”

  I heard people screaming. I saw some startled parents who had come to pick up their kids. They backed away as I ran past.

  The shouts and cries faded as I grabbed the entrance doors to the school building, hurtled inside, and shut them behind me.

  Where to hide?

  I tore down the empty hall, past rows of gray lockers and dark classrooms.

  Over my wheezing breath I could hear the cheerleaders practicing downstairs in the gym. And I heard music—a march. The band rehearsing in the music room.

  I’m safe here. They won’t follow me into the school.

  I gasped as I heard shouts behind me. Heavy, pounding footsteps.

  I nearly fell over as I swung to look behind me. Lou and his two pals. They were stampeding down the hall.

  “Freeze!”

  “Stop right there! Don’t run away!”

  “Stop, kid!”

  Their voices echoed off the gray tile walls.

  Why were they so desperate to catch me? I stole a cat. But so what? Do they send three guys out to capture everyone who takes a cat without paying?

  “You’re in trouble, kid!”

  “Stop! Just stop!”

  I knew I was in trouble. They didn’t have to tell me that.

  I spun around a corner. Running off balance, I slid on the linoleum floor. I skidded to a stop when I saw someone had left a locker open.

  I didn’t even think about it. I darted into the locker.

  I squeezed into the narrow metal locker, spun around to face the front—and shut the door.

  I didn’t mean to slam it so hard. It made a loud clannng.

  Did they hear it? Could they hear my gasping breaths?

  I shut my eyes and listened. Their shoes thudded on the hard floor. Their angry shouts boomed like bellowing animals.

  I heard them turn the corner. They kept running.

  “Where is he?” I heard Lou shout.

  “Keep going,” one of his pals replied. “I saw him run this way.”

  I had my eyes shut, fingers crossed. I gritted my teeth. And listened to them run right past the locker.

  I let out a long whoosh of air. My heart wouldn’t stop pumping and thumping. So loud I could barely hear their fading footsteps.

  My face was drenched in sweat. I suddenly realized it was hot inside this locker. My legs ached. I tried to shift my weight. I was standing on someone’s books and papers.

  A metal hook dug into my back. I leaned forward, but there wasn’t room to get away from the hook.

  I pressed my ear against the locker door. I listened for the three men to return. To come running back down the hall.

  Would they search the lockers to find me? Were they that desperate?

  Silence now.

  I waited. Waited.

  So cramped and hot and uncomfortable in the narrow space. My back started to itch. Sweat trickled into my eyes.

  Time to get out of here, I decided. They’re not coming back.

  I fumbled for the door latch.

  I grabbed it and pulled up. It didn’t budge.

  I tried to jiggle it. No. It wouldn’t move.

  Maybe I had the wrong piece of the latch. I squinted down at the door. Too dark to see anything.

  I brushed my hand over the metal gears down there. Tried to pull the latch up. Tried to push it down.

  My hand found some kind of round gear. I gripped it tightly and tried to spin it. One way. Then the other.

  No. It didn’t spin.

  I edged my shoulder against the door. Tried to move the latch and push the door out with my shoulder.

  No.

  I brushed sweat from my eyes. My legs were trembling.

  I listened. No one in the hall.

  I couldn’t call out for help. Lou and his two partners might hear me.

  I couldn’t shout. And I couldn’t budge the latch.

  I was trapped inside this thing. Trapped with the hook poking into my back. And my legs trembling. And sweat rolling down my face.

  Trapped in this locker the size of a coffin.

  28

  My back ached. The sides of the locker squeezed my shoulders.

  I tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. But there was no room to move.

  My hand wrapped around the latch once again. I tried pulling it. Pushing it. Twirling it.

  I heard footsteps. I sucked in a lungful of air and held it. And listened.

  Light footsteps scraping the floor.

  I peeked out through the narrow air slots in the door. I saw a flash of blond hair across the hall. I squinted till I saw the kid’s face.

  Greg Baum. A fourth-grader I knew from Sunday school.

  “Hey, Greg —” I whispered through the air vent.

  He kept walking.

  “Greg—stop!” I called a little louder.

  I could see him spin around. His eyes bulged in surprise. “Who’s there?”

  “Gre
g—it’s me. Mickey Coe. I’m inside a locker.”

  “Huh? Why?” he asked.

  “Because I got stuck,” I said. “I’m locked in. Can you let me out?”

  I kept talking until Greg found the locker. Then he opened the door without any trouble.

  I came tumbling out. I stumbled all the way to the wall across from us. I hit the wall and bounced off.

  Greg studied me. “Why did you shut yourself in that locker?”

  “It was kind of a dare thing,” I lied.

  He started to ask more questions. But I took off. No sign of the three cat store dudes. So I ran straight to the front of the school, shoved open the doors, and burst outside.

  I glanced up and down the street. No. I didn’t see them.

  The rain had stopped, and the afternoon sun was sinking behind the trees. I tried to stay in the long shadows as I ran.

  All the way home, I kept turning and checking behind me. I kept expecting them to jump out from behind a tree or the side of a house.

  It was only three blocks. But it was a terrifying run. I darted through backyards and along a narrow alley filled with trash cans.

  Were they still searching the school?

  I could see they wouldn’t give up. They were going to chase after me till they caught me.

  And then … what? Turn me over to the police?

  I had to talk to Amanda. We had to make a plan.

  Thinking about Amanda made me remember the cat. I couldn’t run straight home. I had to stop and feed Bella first.

  By the time I reached the Caplans’ house, I was exhausted, dripping with sweat, and still terrified. I found the keys in my backpack and unlocked the front door. I reached for the doorknob —and stopped.

  A chill of fear ran down my back.

  I pictured the cat leaping onto me, claws outstretched. Hissing. Screeching. Scratching and biting.

  Was she waiting for me? Ready to pounce?

  I swallowed. My hand trembled as I grabbed the knob again.

  I knew I had no choice. I had to go in the house. I had to feed her and clean her litter box.

  Maybe Bella had calmed down. Maybe she was used to her new home. Maybe she would be a nice, gentle cat from now on.

  I turned the knob and pushed the door open just a few inches. I stuck my head inside and peered into the front hallway. “Bella?”