Catalyst

by Sarah Beth Durst

  At that moment Alex came in the door, as if magically summoned by the word pizza. He dumped his backpack by the doorway. “Can we put pineapple on it?” he asked. “Makes it healthy, you know.”

  “See?” Zoe said.

  “We should be teaching you to eat actual healthy food,” Mom said to Alex. “So you don’t eat only junk at college and then come down with scurvy. I’ll be mortified if I get a call from your dean telling me my son contracted scurvy due to malnutrition. Or whatever the French translation is for bad parenting.”

  At the word college, Zoe’s smile faded. In the confusion of everything that was happening with her cat, Zoe had completely forgotten about Alex leaving for his fancy French university at the end of the summer. It felt as if she were hearing the news all over again. Zoe managed to keep her voice light. “Only pirates get scurvy, Mom.”

  “That’s because all they eat on pirate ships is pizza.”

  Alex winked at Zoe. “Excellent. New career path: piracy!” He crossed the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator. “How’s the kitten?”

  “So nice of everyone to ask about her,” Zoe said. Her smile felt frozen, as if her cheeks had transformed into plastic. “She’s asleep. And shy. I’m going to keep her in my room so she’s safe from dogs.”

  “Hey, that reminds me—did you know there was a traffic jam downtown because someone said they saw a flying poodle?”

  “First report said it was a green dog, and then it was updated to flying,” Mom said. “Were they even talking about the same dog? Maybe there are multiple absurd dogs. Or no dog at all. Honestly, I don’t know what is going on at the news station that this even made the broadcast. It isn’t April Fools’ Day.”

  “The radio said several people claimed they saw whatever it was. There were a whole bunch of police cars and fire trucks, everyone out looking for it. Completely overran the parking lot near that comic book store.”

  Zoe wondered what people had seen, then dismissed it as not her problem. She had enough problems on her own. A growing problem.

  “I hope they stop causing unnecessary hysteria,” Mom said. “Imagine if they continue spouting nonsense while people try to commute to work in the morning.”

  Retreating as her mother and brother compared commutes, Zoe brought the cat food to her bedroom. She shut the door behind her and poured the kibble into the bowl while Pipsqueak watched her from the bed. “Family’s home,” Zoe whispered. “You’ll need to stay in here until everyone goes to sleep.” She didn’t want to imagine what Mom and Alex would say if they saw Pipsqueak now. “You okay?”

  “Yes, but . . . If I were a flying poodle, would you still love me?”

  Clearly, Pipsqueak had been eavesdropping.

  “Of course I would. Are you going to start flying?” She really had zero idea what else Pipsqueak was capable of. All of it was impossible . . . which meant that any of it was possible, as Harrison had pointed out before he launched into yet another string of not-so-plausible explanations. He was becoming obsessed with figuring out why this was happening, but Zoe was more worried about what she was supposed to do about it.

  “I don’t know,” the cat said, “but what if I do? Or what if I grow even bigger? Or, like dog boy said, if I develop laser beams for eyes? Or sprout wings? Or extra heads?”

  Zoe sat on the edge of the bed, next to her. She hadn’t meant to upset Pipsqueak with all her own worrying. “Hey, I said I’d help you, and I will. Don’t worry. If you grow more or develop lasers . . . Well, we’ll figure out what to do together, okay?”

  Pipsqueak curled around Zoe, pressing against her and looking up at her adoringly. “I’m so glad you were the one who found me. You’re even better than milk. I love you, Zoe.”

  Zoe smiled. “I love you too. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Come back fast.” Then her voice got small. “I don’t want to be alone if I’m going to change so much I cause a traffic jam.”

  “I won’t ever leave you,” Zoe promised. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, for always.”

  * * *

  They had microwave pizza for dinner, but Zoe was too distracted to enjoy it. She kept thinking about Pipsqueak waiting for her in her room. Pipsqueak reminded Zoe of all those animals she’d tried to help over the years—though helping them had seemed a whole lot simpler. I hope I can do this.

  She planned to go online again after dinner and see if anyone anywhere had ever dealt with or heard of a talking animal like Pipsqueak. Or if there were any updates on the unusual animal sightings downtown. So far, no one had mentioned seeing a giant talking cat.

  But maybe there will be a clue. There could be some kind of connection between the weird sightings in town and Pipsqueak . . . It seemed like an awfully big coincidence that someone could have seen an unusual dog around the same time that Zoe met an unusual cat.

  Unfortunately, Zoe couldn’t leave the table until dinner was over—family rules—and everyone seemed to be lingering over their slices. Instead of inhaling their food, they were busy planning the guest list for Alex’s going-away party.

  “You don’t think it’s a terrible idea to mix friends and family?” asked Alex.

  Dad grinned at him. “Aw, are you afraid we’re going to bring out baby pictures and embarrass you?”

  Mom made a note. “Baby pictures. Excellent idea. We’ll have a slide show. How about that one where you’re in your highchair, naked, with spaghetti dumped on your head?”

  Alex buried his face in his hands. “I am going to be paying so much money to therapists. So. Much. Money.”

  Zoe knew how he felt. Every time Mom and Dad showed anyone an old photo of her, it started the endless “Oh, how much she’s grown!” talk, as if she hadn’t noticed she couldn’t fit into any of her favorite T-shirts.

  “You’re still on our health plan,” Dad said supportively. “Get all the therapy you need.”

  “We should ask everyone attending to come with an entertaining anecdote about Alex that they can share at high volume,” Mom said.

  Alex groaned. “I graduated. I didn’t die.”

  Dad saved him. “Anecdotes might be a bit much. Besides, you can’t predict what’s going to come out of Uncle Ernie’s mouth.”

  So true, Zoe thought. Uncle Ernie was actually Great-Uncle Ernie, her dad’s uncle. He was infamous for jokes involving either body parts or really bad puns. Bonus points if he managed both in the same joke. Luckily, he lived in Virginia, so he didn’t make it to every family party.

  “Fair point,” Mom conceded. “Remember last time, when he told everyone his limerick about a sewage treatment plant . . .”

  All of them shuddered, then laughed. Everyone liked Uncle Ernie; they just didn’t trust his sense of humor. Zoe wondered how he’d react to a dog-size cat.

  “You can’t choose your relatives,” Dad said, then became serious. “Speaking of relatives, should we invite Alecia?”

  There was silence around the kitchen table.

  Zoe quit worrying about Pipsqueak for a minute and instead focused on Mom. Aunt Alecia was Mom’s younger sister, but they hadn’t spoken much lately. Zoe knew they’d had an argument, a bad one, and that was why Aunt Alecia hadn’t visited in a while.

  If anyone would know about weird animals, it would be Aunt Alecia. I should have thought of her sooner!

  Aunt Alecia was what her parents liked to call “quirky.” Dad said that she “marched to the beat of her own drummer.” Mom often replied that she’d fired the drummer and hired a bagpipe band. She lived in New Hampshire, where she carved those wooden lawn ornaments sold by the roadside and in New England country stores: bears, turtles, totem poles. But that wasn’t the quirky part. The quirky part was that she believed in aliens and elves and fairies. She was “keeping an open mind on the Loch Ness Monster” and had not ruled out the possibility of Bigfoot.

  When Zoe was little, her aunt used to bring her “treasures”—carvings of animals, sometimes mythical ones, that she’d mad
e. As Zoe got older, she loved her aunt’s cheerful descriptions of creatures that didn’t exist. Zoe missed her visits. She’d always been one of Zoe’s favorite people. Aunt Alecia used to ask about Zoe’s rescue attempts and seemed to really listen and care about what Zoe said. And she’d give great advice, such as what to do if a bird fell out of a nest or how to help a stranded fish. She knew a lot about helping animals.

  Zoe thought that Aunt Alecia would believe in a talking cat.

  She wondered now if Aunt Alecia had ever met one.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mom said with a sigh. “She was angry after our last conversation, even though I apologized as much as I could have, given that I was right.”

  “You could invite her,” Dad suggested. “As a new olive branch.”

  Yes, invite her! Zoe thought. If she comes, I can ask her about giant cats. Maybe even introduce her to Pipsqueak. Zoe was sure her quirky aunt would be willing to help her figure out what to do. Except that Alex’s party wouldn’t happen for several weeks, and that was a long time to wait.

  “She disconnected her phone years ago and doesn’t do email—because, she said, she doesn’t want to be ‘traceable.’ All I did was ask her to tone it down a little since I was going to be switching to a job in the public eye, in order to work on the mayor’s new environmental initiative. Even she had to agree it’s important . . .”

  “You could send a letter,” Dad said.

  Mom stood and cleared her plate. “I don’t know that this is the best time for my sister to visit. Maybe once things settle down at work . . . I want to make a difference, and I can’t do that if the press is more focused on my oddball sister than on the mayor’s policies. Just look at the circus over the ridiculous ‘flying dog.’ They love sensational stories.”

  Zoe noticed that she and Alex were holding themselves very still, as if that could make them invisible. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they wanted to be a part of.

  “It’s just that you’ve said you regret how distant you two have become,” Dad said. “I thought this could be an opportunity to change things.”

  “She’ll never change the way she is.” Mom sighed, then rubbed her eyes as if she were tired. “She brings complications that I don’t have time for right now.” She smiled brightly, as if trying to erase the entire conversation. “Speaking of complications . . . if this wild animal sighting situation isn’t resolved soon, the mayor’s office may need to address it. I’ll need to be prepared with a statement.” She retreated to her office. The door closed.

  Zoe, Alex, and Dad sat in silence at the kitchen table. Guess Mom is done talking about that, Zoe thought. She wondered how Mom would react to the “complication” of a giant cat and was certain the answer was “not well.” Aunt Alecia, though, she’d understand . . . wouldn’t she? She’d listen and try to help, or at least offer advice. Zoe wished she could contact her aunt on her own . . .

  She heard a thump from up in her bedroom.

  Pipsqueak!

  Zoe jumped up. “I just have to check on whatever fell . . . because of . . . gravity. Excuse me.”

  “Was that your kitten?” Alex asked. “Want help?”

  “All set. Thanks!” She fled upstairs, slipped into her room, and shut the door behind her.

  Pipsqueak was perched on Zoe’s desk, filling the entire surface. Her face was smushed against the window. Everything that had been on the desk, except (miraculously) for one can full of pencils, littered the floor.

  “Pipsqueak, what are you—”

  A bird sat on the tree outside the window.

  “I don’t know why, but I really, really want it,” Pipsqueak said intently.

  She pawed the glass, and Zoe had the sudden worry that it was going to break. Pipsqueak might not know her own strength. Certainly she hadn’t been careful leaping onto the desk. Bending, Zoe began to pick up her books and papers. “I know the bird is fascinating, and all your instincts are telling you to chase it, but can you listen to me for one second? I have an aunt who knows about weird stuff . . . She’s really great. You’d like her. And she believes in elves and fairies and such, so I think she’d like you. Anyway, she always used to offer me advice with my animal rescues . . . She might have ideas on how to help you. Maybe she’ll know what’s happening. Maybe she’ll even know how to reverse this and how to help get you back to normal! It’s possible. I mean, it’s not any more impossible than you growing and talking in the first place. I know we said we’d keep you a secret, but do you mind if I write to her for advice? I think it’s worth a try.”

  “If I say you can write to her, can I chase that bird? Please, please, please?”

  “No.”

  As the bird hopped along the branch, Pipsqueak’s tail lashed from side to side. “But I really want that bird! Please, Zoe!”

  “You really wanted milk, and that wasn’t a good idea.” The more Zoe thought about it, the more she thought contacting Aunt Alecia was a good idea. “Can I trust you to stay here and not bash through the window while I get her address?”

  “No?” the cat said hopefully.

  “Pipsqueak?”

  “Okay. Fine.” She flopped down on the desk, her tail twitching.

  Zoe hesitated a moment, then hurried down to Mom’s office and knocked on the door. She could hear the sounds of Alex and Dad in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner.

  “I’m working!” Mom called through the door. “Are you dying or bleeding?”

  Zoe stuck her head in. “Can I look at your phone?”

  Mom was scowling at her computer screen and clicking on her mouse as if it had offended her. “Why? You have your own.”

  She thought fast. “I want to see if yours has any embarrassing pictures of Alex. You know, for his graduation/going-away party.”

  Mom smiled. “Glad you’re taking an interest in his party. We were worried you were going to sulk about it. You haven’t been very good at hiding how you feel about his plans. You know it’s a wonderful opportunity for him. As your father keeps saying, it’s an adventure of a lifetime.”

  Zoe did not want to talk about this right now. “Yeah. Um, sorry?”

  With another smile, Mom handed over her phone. “I’m just glad you’re coming around.”

  “Right. Yep. I am.” Clutching the phone, Zoe scooted out into the hallway and scrolled through, looking for Aunt Alecia’s contact info. There it is. She copied the address into her own phone and then found paper, an envelope, and a stamp.

  Shutting herself in her room with Pipsqueak, she sat on her bed and wrote the letter.

  Dear Aunt Alecia,

  I have a problem with my cat that I think you might be able to help with. She’s unusual. You see, she recently started growing much faster than an ordinary cat . . .

  Zoe didn’t mention the talking. She didn’t want to give her aunt extra reasons to doubt her, but she did write about the other animal sightings in town—the flying poodle or green dog or whatever it was. She didn’t know if it was connected to what was happening to Pipsqueak or not, but it seemed important enough to mention, if only as proof that she wasn’t the only one who’d seen an unusual animal. She included a plea for advice and whatever else Aunt Alecia could do, and she signed it, Your niece, Zoe.

  Hearing a thump and a yowl, she jumped up.

  Pipsqueak had tumbled off the desk, along with the can of pencils, and was shaking out her fur. The bird had flown away, and Pipsqueak looked unhurt.

  “Sorry,” Pipsqueak said. “I forgot I’m bigger now.”

  Zoe added to the letter: Please write back soon!

   Chapter 6

  ZOE SLEPT ON THE FLOOR. She didn’t fit in the bed.

  Especially since Pipsqueak slept diagonally.

  She woke, uncomfortable, to a knocking on her door. “Zoe?” Dad called from the hallway. “Are you awake, Zoomaroo?”

  The knob began to twist.

  She shot upright. “Don’t come in! I’m getting dressed!”
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  The knob quit turning.

  “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through the day,” Dad said. “Alex and I are off to work. Your mom is already at the office. She has a few things to do that she can’t do from home, but she’ll have her cell phone if there’s an emergency, and she’ll be back as soon as she can. And of course, Surita will be home all day. She’s in charge if anything comes up. See you at dinnertime!”

  “Yep, see you!” Zoe sagged in relief before glancing at Pipsqueak.

  She’d grown again.

  Easily the size of a full-grown African lion, Pipsqueak filled the entire bed.

  This is impossible, Zoe thought. It was already impossible before this morning. But now . . . it’s even more impossible. She was one hundred percent certain that no cat in the Guinness World Records had ever grown this large this quickly. “You grew again!” She heard the panic in her voice and tried to sound more positive: “Harrison is going to love this!” But her enthusiasm sounded fake even to her own ears. She couldn’t pretend this was okay.

  Pipsqueak began kneading the bed with her claws. “You don’t love this. I could tell when you saw me. I didn’t mean to grow more!”

  “Shh. Calm down. I know you didn’t. And I’m sorry—I was just surprised. We’ll find a way to help you.” She didn’t know how she was going to restore Pipsqueak to an ordinary size, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “Everything will be fine.”

  “You say that a lot. I’m starting to think it’s more a wish than a fact. Did you hear from your aunt? Does she know how to fix me?”

  Zoe had put the letter to Aunt Alecia in the mail the night before, but it was still sitting in their mailbox. Far too soon for a reply. “It’ll be a few days.” She hoped her aunt had useful advice. “We’ll just have to keep you out of sight until we hear from her.”

  That was doable while her family was busy with work, but it was going to get a lot harder once the construction workers came to work on the laundry room, a week from Monday. She hoped Aunt Alecia wrote back quickly. She had just over a week before the house would be full of strangers.