Catalyst

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “Take the flashlight, walk in a straight line twenty steps, and then come back twenty steps. That way, you’re far enough for privacy, but you can call out if you get lost. Oh, and if you need to wipe, use a leaf. But do not use a poison ivy leaf.”

  Zoe felt as if her cheeks were burning. She talked about a lot of things with Harrison, but this was not her favorite conversation. “Okay. How do I tell what’s poison ivy?”

  “ ‘Leaves of three, let it be,’” he quoted. More quietly, he said, “I think my grandmother would have liked this trip. And yes, she would be proud I brought the poop shovel.”

  Lighting her way with her flashlight, Zoe counted twenty steps from their camp. Behind her, she could hear Pipsqueak already snoring—a kind of purr-hum—and when she glanced back, she could see the mound of the cat’s great body silhouetted by the glow from Harrison’s flashlight. Aiming hers away from herself, she did what she had to do and then prepared to return.

  Then she heard a rustling in the bushes nearby.

  She froze.

  “Pipsqueak?” she whispered.

  But she could still hear Pipsqueak back with Harrison, breathing her purr-like snore.

  She heard a soft rumble that sounded like a growl.

  A wolf ? she wondered.

  It couldn’t be. They weren’t in the middle of nowhere. Yes, this whole area was marked as a national forest on the phone’s map, but they were close to a highway and not far from a town. She swung her flashlight back and forth, illuminating the nearest trees.

  There aren’t wolves this close to where people live, Zoe thought. But it had sounded wolflike. Maybe? She saw a shape pad out of the darkness into the beam of her flashlight.

  A dog!

  What was a dog doing out here? They weren’t near any houses. As it drew closer, she saw it wasn’t an ordinary dog. It was shaped like a terrier, medium-size with scruffy fur . . . but its fur was green. Not greenish, but bright green.

  Zoe wondered if it was lost. She took a step forward. “It’s okay, puppy . . .”

  The dog tensed and opened its jaws to reveal row after row of teeth. Far too many and far too sharp. Like a shark. They gleamed with drool in the light of the flashlight.

  She screamed, pivoted, and ran toward their camp. Her flashlight beam bobbed in front of her. Ahead, she saw Harrison aim his flashlight at her.

  “What’s wrong?” he called.

  “Dog! Teeth!” She heard it chasing her, crashing through the bushes. Reaching the clearing, she didn’t see Pipsqueak. The dog was still following her, catching up, but where was—

  On instinct, Zoe looked up.

  The cat was climbing a pine tree. When she was halfway up, the tree began to tilt from her weight. As Zoe ran past, she cried, “Watch out!” She shoved Harrison aside as Pipsqueak landed on the ground between them and the dog.

  Hissing, she whacked the dog’s nose with her claws.

  Yelping, the dog fled.

  Zoe and Harrison rushed to her. “That was amazing!” Zoe cried.

  Harrison echoed, “Incredible! Wish I could have videoed it.”

  “Are you hurt?” Zoe asked the cat.

  Pipsqueak was licking her fur all over. “Of course not. Cats always land on their feet! I read it in a book.” She paused in her licking. “Are you?”

  “We’re fine,” Zoe said.

  Pipsqueak studied them for a second, then licked their heads, as if they were kittens she was grooming.

  “Ew!” Harrison cried.

  Laughing, Zoe wiped her cheeks and said, “Um, thanks? I mean, really, thanks!”

  “You chased off a wild dog—or something. Whatever it was!” Harrison said.

  “You were awesome,” Zoe told her.

  Pipsqueak preened. “Yes, I was! Wasn’t I? Rest a little now. I’ll watch over you. And the weird, adorable mouse.”

  From a tree above them in the darkness, the mouse piped up, “I’m adorable, and you’re awesome.”

  “Yes, you both are,” Zoe said.

  They waited for a while, watching the shadows around the clearing, but the strange dog didn’t return. When they finally felt safe enough, Zoe and Harrison climbed into their sleeping bags.

  Lying down, Zoe didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but eventually her brain stopped whirling in circles and she fell asleep, with Harrison snoring beside her.

   Chapter 12

  ZOE WOKE, CONVINCED SHE’D SLEPT on top of a hundred rocks that she hadn’t noticed in the dark when she’d put down her sleeping bag. Still fuzzy with sleep (or lack of sleep), she blinked open her eyes and . . .

  Saw a green dog.

  It looked like the same dog from the night before, terrier-size with a scruffy face, and as green as a leaf. Its jaw was closed, hiding the terrible teeth. Zoe opened her mouth to scream, but before she could let out even a peep, the dog bolted and was gone.

  “Harrison! Pipsqueak!”

  Beside her, Harrison sat up and pushed his glasses onto his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “The dog was back!”

  Fully awake, he scrambled out of his sleeping bag.

  Alert, Pipsqueak prowled through the trees around the clearing. A few moments later she returned. “If it was here, it’s gone now.”

  Keeping an eye on the trees, Zoe brushed her teeth with a little water from her canteen and tried to drag a brush through her hair. She felt her hair frizz around her like a halo. Her legs ached like . . . well, like she’d been riding a giant cat all day.

  They packed up camp and continued on.

  Though she kept an eye out, she didn’t see the dog again.

  Over the next several hours they fell into a rhythm. They stuck to the trees, waiting to cross any streets until the roads were as empty as possible and then racing across at top speed. The flying mouse would zoom ahead first to watch for cars. It took Pipsqueak only three strides to reach the safety of the other side, and then they’d all disappear into the woods again. They avoided towns as best they could, but when the towns bled into one another too closely to bypass without going too far out of their way, Pipsqueak would leap onto the roofs—that was Zoe’s favorite part.

  They didn’t notice when they crossed into New Hampshire, realizing it only when they caught a glimpse of a highway sign through the trees as they veered closer to a road. To save their phone batteries, they tried to resist checking the map more than once an hour.

  “Wish Pipsqueak came with an odometer,” Harrison said.

  “Cats definitely don’t come with odometers,” Zoe said.

  “I have whiskers,” Pipsqueak offered.

  Riding on top of Pipsqueak’s head, the mouse said, “You have lovely whiskers!”

  “Yeah, that’s not the same,” Harrison said. “If I knew how fast we were going, I’d know how long this is going to take.”

  “Are you trying to ask if we’re there yet?” Zoe guessed.

  “Well . . . yeah.”

  “We’re not there yet.”

  Aunt Alecia lived fairly far north in New Hampshire, nearly to the White Mountains. They had a lot farther to go.

  “Where are we going again?” the mouse asked.

  “My aunt’s house,” Zoe said. “She’ll be able to help us.”

  “Oh, I remember! You told me that! And I told you, you already helped me!” the mouse said, performing a loop above Zoe. “Look at me! No more cage! I’m free!”

  “She’ll free you more?” Zoe guessed.

  Maybe the mouse doesn’t need any help, she thought. He seemed happy, and he was small enough to hide easily. Petting Pipsqueak between her enormous ears, Zoe wished that the kitten’s changes were easier to disguise. But a giant talking cat . . . We can hide the talking, but not the size.

  What if going back to normal meant that Pipsqueak would stop talking too? She wouldn’t have to lose that ability, would she? You don’t know that’s even a possibility, Zoe scolded herself. You don’t know anything. Except that she can’t stay as
she is.

  They kept going.

  As the day wore on, the novelty of traveling by cat began to wear off, and it became clearer that they weren’t going to reach Aunt Alecia’s before nightfall.

  “I want a shower,” Zoe said as they skirted another town. “With soap. Lots and lots of soap. Also, a real bed with a thousand pillows.”

  “I want to repack,” Harrison said. “My grandma . . . I didn’t do as good a job as she always did. I think she’d be disappointed. Especially since we camped and didn’t eat a single s’more.”

  “We were nearly attacked by a wild green dog,” Zoe said. “Not so much time for s’mores. I think your grandma would have understood.”

  “Maybe,” Harrison said, but he bit off the word, as if he didn’t understand.

  “Well, I’m having fun,” Pipsqueak said. “We’re seeing things I read about when I was hiding in the shed. We’re having an adventure! Our own incredible journey!”

  The cat did seem happy, sniffing her way through the woods, running parallel to highways. Many of the places they found were beautiful: streams that tumbled over rocks, meadows that whispered with wind, empty stretches of road that were dappled with sunlight poking through leaves. They continued to avoid towns as much as possible, which grew easier the farther north they went.

  “I need to charge my phone,” Harrison said. “And I think the grilled cheese went bad. It doesn’t taste right. How about we stop for dinner?”

  “You need to stop eating non-refrigerated cheese,” Zoe said. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  Pipsqueak spoke up. “Please don’t vomit in my fur.”

  “Do you have any more snacks?” Harrison asked.

  Zoe handed him a bag of Goldfish and an apple. “Maybe we could stop at a restaurant or a store, since we’re not going to get to Aunt Alecia’s today. How much money did you bring?”

  “Five dollars and eighty-six cents.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Harrison looked defensive. “I have to buy my own video games, you know, and birthday money only goes so far. Especially if you add in Carvel Flying Saucers, which I do. How much do you have?”

  “Eighteen dollars.”

  That could buy them some food.

  “So we just stop at a McDonald’s?” Harrison asked. “With a giant cat? The mouse is inconspicuous, but Pipsqueak . . . not so much.”

  Yeah, that wouldn’t be a good idea, she thought.

  The highway had a few rest stops along it, but even if they found Pipsqueak a dumpster or something else big enough to hide behind, if Zoe and Harrison showed up without a car or parents or any adults . . . Two kids traveling on foot—they’d look suspicious. But Zoe was starting to worry. They needed to check in with home, and their phone batteries were seriously low. Worse, they were also low on both food and water, despite trying to pack as much as they could. Pipsqueak had already eaten the bulk of the dry cat food Zoe had crammed into her backpack. She hadn’t realized that Pipsqueak would be using more energy traveling and would need to eat more for each meal. And the cat was continuing to grow.

  Taking a tiny sip of lukewarm water, Zoe thought, I’d trade my arm for a soda. Or at least a finger or two. Maybe just a fingernail clipping.

  At last they spotted a store that wasn’t so exposed: the Hammermill Country Store. One of those gingerbread house−type New England stores, it was off the highway, tucked between trees. On the front porch were wood carvings of bears and rabbits and beavers, like the kind her aunt made, each of them as tall as Zoe. A sign in the window said they sold fresh maple syrup and fudge. The curtains were lace, with apples printed on them, and only one vehicle sat in the parking lot, a pickup truck that probably belonged to a store employee.

  “This could work,” Zoe said. “Pipsqueak, can you stay hidden? And can you keep an eye on the mouse without totally traumatizing him?”

  “Of course!” Pipsqueak said, sounding offended that Zoe would question her mouse-sitting skills. “He’s too cute to chase.”

  The mouse squeaked, “We are friends! She was there when I ascended to freedom! Glorious winged freedom!”

  “That’s right,” Pipsqueak said. “Your wings are very nice.”

  Sliding off Pipsqueak’s back, Zoe left her backpack with the cat and mouse, then climbed onto the porch and peered in through a window. In the corner, she saw a refrigerator filled with sodas, Vitaminwater, and Gatorade.

  “It’s open,” she reported.

  Also shedding his backpack, Harrison joined her on the porch. “What do we say if anyone asks who we are and where we’re from?”

  “The truth,” Zoe said. “At least some of it. We’re on a camping trip.”

  “Maybe they’ll let us charge our phones.”

  Zoe glanced back at the trees to see if Pipsqueak was hidden. She thought she saw a glimpse of something dog-size, furry, and green darting through the bushes, but it was only for a split second.

  A bell rang on top of the door as they went inside.

  The store was stuffed with tourist knickknacks: little snow globes with (plastic) wood bridges inside them, oven mitts shaped like lobsters, place mats with a picture of the Old Man of the Mountain. Lots of fake license plates with sayings on them. A bunch more of the wood carvings.

  “Welcome to Hammermill,” a bored woman at the cash register said without looking up. She was perched on a stool and playing on her phone.

  “Hi,” Zoe said as she headed for the fridge with the sodas.

  Harrison lingered by the fudge display. “Fudge for dinner?” he asked hopefully.

  “Why not?” Zoe said. “I don’t think they have grilled cheese.”

  They paid for a chunk of fudge, two sodas, and two prepackaged sandwiches.

  “Can we charge our phones?” Harrison asked the employee.

  “Sure,” the bored woman said. She nodded toward the back of the store, where quilts hung on racks. “Outlet by the bathroom.”

  They plugged their phones in, then took turns using the bathroom. Zoe was very happy to have toilet paper again.

  Sitting on the floor next to the electrical outlet with Harrison, Zoe checked her phone. She’d missed only one text, from Surita, saying that she’d seen a news report about a mountain lion sighting at their elementary school and that she hoped they were far away from there. Zoe wrote back, promising they’d be more careful. And then she took a deep breath. “Ready? I’m going to do the call.”

  Surita had advised that they call as well as text sometimes, to add to the believability. Keeping her phone plugged in so it would continue charging, Zoe held it to her ear as it rang.

  Alex answered. “Hello?”

  Hearing his voice, she felt a flood of missing him. She hadn’t expected it, and for a second, she couldn’t speak. She squeaked out, “Hi, Alex.”

  “Zoe? Are you okay? You sound weird.”

  “Just . . .” She took a breath. “. . . miss you. That’s all.” She rushed on: “But I’m having a great time. Camp is . . . everything I hoped it would be.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” His voice grew distant as he called, “Mom? Dad? Zoe’s on the phone!” Then: “Yeah, camp let her call. It’s not a prison.” Another pause; then he said to Zoe, “Everyone wants to know if you’re having fun.”

  “Yeah. Everything’s great.” She had to think of a detail, something specific, but not too elaborate. Surita had said there was a lake. “Swam in the lake today. It was nice.”

  “Any fish nibble your toes?”

  “Just a Loch Ness Monster.”

  “Tell him you taste better with ketchup,” Alex said. “Oh, wait. Here’s Mom.”

  There was a scuffling sound. She waited and then heard her mom’s voice. “Zoe? Are you doing okay? Do you have everything you need? Have you gotten poison ivy yet?”

  “No poison ivy.” She began to feel more confident. They seemed to fully believe she was at camp. Maybe this is working. Harrison offered her a piece of fudge. She
shook her head—not until she was done with the call. “I was just telling Alex I went swimming in the lake today.”

  “Really? With all the rain?” Mom asked.

  Rain?

  “Surita said it poured all day, and everyone was stuck doing arts and crafts in the lodge.”

  Zoe forced a laugh. “Hah! Today? Did I say today? Obviously we didn’t swim today. Way too much rain. We’re going to swim tomorrow.”

  “Good. If you’re ever swimming and you hear thunder, get out of the water immediately. And don’t touch anything with three leaves. And wear your sunscreen.” She sped up. “Wash your hands a lot so you don’t get any germs and—hold on, your father wants to say hello. Love you.”

  “Love you,” Zoe said, and then her dad was on the phone.

  “Zoe!” Dad said, his voice warm. “Do you miss us as much as we miss you?”

  In the background, she heard Alex say, “Dad, that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to say.”

  Then, muffled, Dad to Alex: “Why can’t I say that?”

  Alex, muffled: “She’s supposed to . . . mumble, mumble . . . great time so . . . mumble, mumble . . . September . . .”

  Dad came back: “Are you having a great time? Making memories you’ll treasure forever?”

  She glanced at Harrison, who had fudge smeared on his cheeks. He was texting his family. She hoped he heard her say it was raining at camp. Certainly wasn’t raining here. “Yeah, I am. Vermont is great!”

  “Good. You concentrate on having a good time and not getting eaten by any lake monsters.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  “And you’ll have fun?”

  “That too.” She was passed around one more time to say bye to each of them, and then she hung up. Her eyes felt wet. She hadn’t expected that.

  Harrison studied her face, and she knew he had to see her almost-tears. She hoped he didn’t ask, because then she was sure she’d start crying. Thankfully, he didn’t.

  He held out a chunk of mushed chocolate. “Fudge?”

  She took it and shoved it all into her mouth.