The Trouble with Rules

by Leslie Bulion

  “Nah,” Nick said. “It was always Brambletown just waiting to happen.”

  “Bye-bye, kitty,” Zack said. He climbed out of his seat and waved as Summer and the others went home.

  “Hey, Zack,” Nick said. “What does a kitty say?”

  “Huh, huh, huh.” Zack made a very quiet panting sound.

  “Poor Contact. She must be tired out from working on Brambletown,” I said.

  “Contact didn’t work, Nadie,” Zack said. “She sleeped.”

  “She has the right idea,” Nick said with a yawn. “I’m beat.”

  “Rest up,” I said. “I’ve got big plans for tomorrow.”

  By lunchtime on Sunday, Summer, Gordon, Max, and Lacey were back. We filled in Max’s park with every bit of green paint we had left. Mom brought out a tray of almond butter and jam sandwiches and went back in to make lemonade. Dad dragged a couple of sawhorses across our street between our driveway and Nick’s so no cars could come near our town, not even to turn around. He carried out the extra pairs of skates from the sports photo shoot. Everybody took turns skating over the new bridge.

  Dad snapped about a million pictures. “I’m going to switch cameras,” he said after a bit. “Be right back.”

  One of the boys from Mrs. Novotny’s class skated up. He zoomed across Brambletown’s streets without a word. Then a fifth grader rode over, stopping his bike at the edge of the lot.

  “Want to help?” I asked.

  “Right,” he jeered. “Like I play dumb games with girls.” I watched him ride away. The boy from Mrs. Novotny’s class skated off after him. I pulled in a long breath and blew it out again. Too bad for them, I reminded myself.

  I’d just started sketching some more plans when a shadow fell across my paper.

  “How about if I join Brambletown?”

  I put my pencil behind my ear and squinted up at Owen. He had this stricken look on his face like it was killing him to ask. All of his most disgusting and irritating moments flashed through my mind. I wanted to say no. I knew it was possible that he would wreck everything. Then, for some reason, Owen’s maggot poem popped into my head. A laugh sort of sneaked out of me and I coughed into my hand to cover it. What was it that Mr. Allen had said about everyone working on the Spark?

  “If you can share ideas and work together,” I told Owen, “you can stay.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said, like he could care less. “I’ll tell you my ideas.”

  “You have to listen, too,” I said.

  “Nadie,” Zack called from the kiddie trailer. “I want a ride!” His timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “You can start by listening to him.” I pointed at my brother. “He needs someone to pull him with the bike.”

  “But—”

  “If you want to help…” I let my words hang in the air and bent my head over my sketch again. I didn’t look up until I heard the screek skreek of Summer’s rickety bike. Owen zoomed around a curve and I heard Zack laugh inside the trailer. Owen laughed, too. The world is a funny place, I thought. I shook my head and went back to sketching the apartment house.

  A few minutes later I heard Zack’s voice again. “No!” he yelled. He was climbing out of the kiddie trailer as fast as his short legs could climb.

  Oh no! Why hadn’t I kept an eye on Owen? I dropped my paper and ran.

  20

  BRAMBLETOWN RULES

  What did you do?” I shoved Owen aside and picked up my brother. “No!” Zack cried again. “No, kitty!” A tear ran down his cheek.

  Summer and Nick hurried over.

  “What is it, Zacky?” I said gently. “What happened?”

  “Contact said—” Zack sobbed. “Contact said yeeee-ow!” He imitated the sound of an angry cat. We heard an answering yeow from inside the kiddie trailer.

  “Why would Contact say that?” I turned to Summer.

  “Yikes!” Summer said. “Let me see her.” She leaned inside the kiddie carrier, her Louisiana beauty mark showing below the edge of her shirt. “Well,” she said, “better back up, everybody. Looks like Contact’s having her kittens.”

  I almost dropped Zack. “Having kittens?” I cried. “Here? She can’t have them here!”

  “Oh, I guess she can,” Summer said. She hitched up her shorts. “The trailer’s small and protected. She has her favorite fuzzy blanket inside. It’s as good a place as any.”

  I grabbed Summer’s arm. “What are we going to do?”

  “Do? Not much. She can do this fine all by herself,” Summer said. “Let’s just give her some space.”

  “I’m getting my mom and dad,” I said. I hurried to the house, still holding Zack. “Contact wasn’t being mean to you,” I told him on the way. “She was asking you for help because she trusts you. And you got her help. Good job!” I gave him a squeeze.

  “I yelled.” Zack nodded. He sniffled, then smiled a little. “Can I pat kitty?”

  “I think you can later, after her babies are born,” I told him. I hoped I was right about that.

  “Dad!” I shouted at the kitchen door. “Mom! Come quick! Contact’s having kittens in the bike trailer!”

  Dad came running with a camera. Mom brought out some clean towels. She had her cell phone to her ear.

  “I’m calling Summer’s house,” she told me. “I got the number from our caller ID.”

  The whole Brambletown crew was standing behind the bike trailer. Nick stared through the clear plastic window in back. Mom gave Summer a towel, and Summer draped it over the front of the carrier to give Contact more privacy. Everyone kept so quiet you could hear the big orange cat panting.

  “Do all of your cats do this?” I whispered to Summer. “You must have kittens everywhere in your house!”

  “Nah.” Summer shook her head. “We’ve only had a couple of litters. We get our cats fixed so they don’t have kittens. Contact was in rough shape when I found her. At first, she looked too old for kittens. But then we found out she was already pregnant.”

  Nick took Zack and motioned for me to step closer and look. Mom, Dad, and I peered through the plastic window. Contact’s fur was damp and matted and her sides were heaving in and out at a frightening rate. I saw a scruffy ball of white and orange fur off to the side of the blanket. Could it be a kitten?

  “Are you sure she’s okay?” I asked Summer.

  She smiled. “She’s just fine.”

  Dad poked me. I saw a round, goopy bubble bulge out under Contact’s tail. She licked and licked and pulled a clear skin sac away with her teeth. A wet mash of brown fur slowly took on the rough shape of a kitten. Contact licked it some more as it was born. I saw its tiny chest start to move in and out.

  “It’s breathing,” I whispered. “It’s amazing.” My own heart was beating somewhere up in my throat. As I watched, a floppy brownish-red blob worked its way out of Contact. I lurched back away from the plastic window.

  “From the look on your face, I guess you just saw the placenta,” Summer said. “That helped feed the kitten when it was inside Contact, but soon the kitten will nurse from Mama Contact instead. The mother cat’ll usually eat the placenta.”

  “Let me see,” Owen said. He bent down and watched through the window. Max watched, too. I could tell exactly what was happening from the changing expressions on their faces.

  “Whoa,” Max said.

  “Yeah,” Summer said. “It is pretty cool.”

  Owen whirled on her. “That’s—that’s so gross,” he sputtered. “It’s maximum grossification! It’s—it’s grossazillion! I didn’t win,” he said. “You win.” He took a step toward Summer.

  I gasped. The gross-out contest could not be back on! I wanted to step between them and run away at the same time.

  Owen scowled. He shoved his hand out and held it hanging in midair.

  I watched a flush creep up Summer’s neck and bloom on her cheeks. She pushed her hair behind her ears and shook hands with Owen.

  “Now that’s something
you don’t see every day,” Lacey observed.

  Owen wiped his handshake-hand on his jeans. Summer grinned.

  I let my breath out all in a rush. My legs felt wobbly and I went to sit on the curb near our driveway. If this day held any more surprises I didn’t think my stomach would be able to take it. Nick sat down next to me. Dad came over and stood in front of us with his camera. I hung my arm over Nick’s shoulder, and he hung his arm over mine.

  “Gotcha,” Dad said, snapping a picture. “That’s a keeper.”

  Lacey straightened and moved away from the back of the trailer. She looked like she was in some kind of trance. “I can’t believe I just saw that,” she said. “It’s—it’s—”

  “Super disgusto?” Owen offered. “Revoltamatic?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Lacey sighed.

  I smiled.

  “That’s it,” Summer called loudly from next to the kiddie trailer. “Five kittens, and every single one’s okay.”

  She got on her bike and slowly towed her precious cargo into the shade at the edge of our driveway. Nick, Zack, and I followed. Gordon, Max, Lacey, and Owen headed back onto the streets of Brambletown. An old minivan pulled into our driveway, and Summer’s sister got out of the passenger side.

  “Leave it to old Contact to drop her kittens in a bike trailer,” Summer’s sister said, shaking her pink head.

  Summer’s mom got out of the driver’s side of the van and hugged Summer. She held her long hair back with her hand and peeked under the towel on the bike trailer. Then she sent a familiar, wide-open smile all around. “Thanks for calling me,” she said to my mom.

  “I want to pat kitty,” Zack said.

  “Come on over here,” Summer told him. She lifted the towel and my brother put his head and shoulders inside.

  “Okay, kitty,” Zack crooned. “Okay, kitty.”

  “What does the kitty say?” Nick asked.

  There was no answer. I got worried. Would Contact be mad that Zack was getting so close? “Hey, Zack,” I asked. “What does the kitty say?”

  Zack pulled his head out of the carrier. “She says prrrrr,” he announced happily. “And baby kitties say meep, meep, meep.”

  We all laughed. Summer’s mom ruffled Zack’s blond curls.

  “Maybe we should add a column to the Spark called ‘the Brambletown News,’” I said. “We could report on events, chart our progress, get new ideas and suggestions—stuff like that.”

  “The Brambletown News, huh?” Nick elbowed me in the ribs. “Does this mean you’re actually going back to school?”

  “I might,” I said.

  All along our way to school the next morning, Nick and I brainstormed ideas for the Brambletown News column.

  “What do you think about putting in a map of all the skating roads and buildings and everything?” I asked.

  “Yeah—you could do a great drawing of it,” Nick said. “I could interview the kids who helped this weekend.”

  “That’s a really good idea,” I told him. “The Brambletown News is going to be the best section in the Spark yet!”

  We stopped at the corner of Broom and Laurel. The morning sun caught shiny flecks all over the sidewalk.

  “But…” Nick said, thinking out loud. “Say I interview Gordon, Max, Jess, Summer, and even Owen…and we put the column in the school paper. Then everyone will know we all made it together.” He rubbed his head, then looked both ways to get ready to cross and walk the longer way, up Broom, like he always did.

  I thought about all of the kids working and playing and watching those amazing kittens enter the world—our world— the day before.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Together. Brambletown rules.”

  Nick nodded slowly. “Right,” he said. “Okay, then.”

  I hooked my arm through his, and he let me pull him a couple of steps along my way to school. Then I let go, bent my knees, and pointed down Laurel. “Ready?”

  Nick grinned. “Set—”

  “Go!” we shouted.

  He didn’t turn onto Broom. Instead we ran as fast as we could down Laurel and raced each other all the way to school.