Catalyst

by Sarah Beth Durst

  It made an excellent dinner—fudge first, then sandwiches.

  When they finished, they headed for the door. They thought they’d made it out without any issues, but then the woman from the cash register hurried after them onto the porch. “Wait, please,” she said.

  Automatically, Zoe paused. Then she thought: We should run. But that would look suspicious. She studied the distance between them and the woods.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” the woman asked. “Have you run away from home?”

  Zoe glanced at Harrison, who was trembling like a leaf. No wonder she followed us. We look like two scared kids.

  Which is accurate.

  She wondered how much of their phone conversations the woman had heard. Probably all of it, including when I said “Vermont.” Zoe wished they’d been more careful. With luck, the cashier would assume they were attending a nearby camp. Without luck . . .

  “We’re fine!” Harrison squeaked. “All fine here! Thanks!”

  The woman stepped toward them. “Let me call someone who can help—”

  Before she could finish speaking, Pipsqueak leaped from the roof of the country store and landed in front of them with a whoomp! Dust and fur billowed up.

  The employee screamed.

  “No!” Zoe yelled.

  “Jump on!” Pipsqueak cried. “I will rescue you!”

  The woman ran, screaming, toward her truck, clutching her phone as she dialed. Probably 911, Zoe guessed, not whatever number you’d call to help two pathetic lost children. The woman was shouting into the phone as Zoe and Harrison climbed onto Pipsqueak’s back.

  Pipsqueak bounded toward the woods, trumpeting, “I am awesome!” She crashed over bushes and weaved between the trees, pausing only long enough for them to pick up their backpacks. The mouse flew alongside them, flitting between the leaves.

  “Pipsqueak, that was not good!” Zoe said.

  “But . . .” Pipsqueak slowed. “I saw your face! You looked scared, the same way you did when I protected you from the green dog with teeth. I thought you needed saving.”

  “Well, we didn’t,” Harrison said.

  Stopping, Pipsqueak twisted around to look behind them. “Should we go back?”

  “We can’t,” Zoe said. “She’s seen you. And heard you!”

  “You scared her half to death,” Harrison said, and Pipsqueak cringed as if she’d been smacked on the nose. “We have to get as far from here as possible.”

  “And hope that no one believes her,” Zoe said.

   Chapter 13

  THEY SPENT A SECOND NIGHT OUTSIDE, in another forest out of sight of a road.

  None of them talked much as they set up camp, and they all fell asleep nearly instantly to the sound of the winged mouse snoring in tiny squeaks.

  When Zoe woke at dawn (thankfully, without seeing the green dog this time), she was still worrying about what had happened at the country store. She felt extra anxious about reaching Aunt Alecia. The sooner they could turn Pipsqueak back into an ordinary cat, the better.

  She hadn’t realized her worrying had rubbed off on Pipsqueak until they were underway, traveling in silence, and the cat suddenly asked, “Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course not,” Zoe said.

  The mouse piped up. “Who’s mad at who?”

  “No one,” Zoe reassured him. “We just . . . can’t let Pipsqueak be seen by anyone else, that’s all.” Or heard, she thought. And then she wished she hadn’t thought that. She didn’t want Pipsqueak to stop talking! Just . . . it wasn’t safe for other people to hear her.

  “Because I’m scary,” Pipsqueak said miserably.

  Zoe didn’t like hearing her so upset. “You scared that woman; you’re not scary. There’s a difference. One is how you act, and the other is how you are.” Except that Pipsqueak hadn’t been acting scary on the school playground. Yes, she’d intentionally scared the country store cashier, but the mother with the toddler had reacted because of the cat’s size.

  “She wouldn’t have been scared if I hadn’t grown so huge.”

  “We’ll make you small again,” Zoe promised. “Before anyone else sees you.”

  “I don’t want anyone to be scared of me.”

  Circling over Pipsqueak’s head, the mouse said, “I’m not scared of you. Yes, I was, the first time I saw you, but now that I know you, we’re friends! I think people—and mice—just need to get to know you.”

  “Maybe—but maybe not,” Pipsqueak said, and then fell quiet, brooding.

  Zoe replayed the conversation in her head, wishing she’d said things differently. Sure, Pipsqueak had made a mistake, but Zoe didn’t want her feeling bad about herself.

  “You know what’s best?” Harrison said, breaking the silence. “Grilled cheese with tomato. Now, I don’t normally like tomato, on account of the inner squishiness, but with cheese . . . Yum. Also, bacon is a classic, but try any other meat and it’s not grilled cheese anymore. It’s a panini. And I don’t want a panini.”

  Zoe almost laughed. Trust Harrison to come up with an absolutely random conversation topic to change the mood. “Everyone likes paninis.”

  “The problem with paninis is the ooze. You see, it’s squished in a panini press, and when it comes out, the flattened bread can’t contain the innards. Grilled cheese, on the other hand, has the perfect ratio of bread to innards—”

  The flying mouse squeaked as he flew loops over Harrison’s head. “Cheese is good!”

  “Exactly,” Harrison agreed.

  “Once, a boy gave me a bite of string cheese from his snack box,” the mouse said. “I will love him forever. Is grilled cheese as glorious as string cheese?”

  “I like string,” Pipsqueak said.

  “String cheese,” Harrison corrected. “It’s mozzarella.”

  And they were off discussing the merits of various cheeses. It seemed to be successfully distracting Pipsqueak from worrying. Thanks, Harrison, Zoe thought.

  But she couldn’t stop wondering what was going to happen when they reached Aunt Alecia’s. Would her aunt be happy to see them? Would she be able to shrink Pipsqueak right away? What would she do about the mouse?

  After a while, when the cheese conversation flagged, Zoe checked her phone. “Seven miles left.” No more highways. No towns. Just smaller squiggly roads.

  Pipsqueak slowed as they approached a field. She poked her nose out between the trees. A motionless tractor sat beside a large roll of hay.

  “Should we go around?” Harrison asked.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Zoe said. They could skirt the field, but the trees looked thin to the west and there was a road to the east. Straight across might be best. “How fast can you run?”

  Pipsqueak twisted her neck to give them the cat equivalent of a grin. “Let’s find out!”

  Zoe grabbed on tighter to a wad of fur as Pipsqueak broke into a run across the field. She felt the sun on her back and heard the wind rush past her ears. Harrison hung on tight behind her. Pipsqueak’s pace, unlike that of a galloping horse, was smooth and soundless. The grassy field whispered around them as the stalks parted. Zoe wanted to cheer. With the wind in her face and her heart pounding in her chest, once again she felt as if she were flying.

  Midway across the field, Zoe heard the squeal of tires. She glanced toward the road. A man and a woman were climbing out of a pickup truck. “We’ve been seen!” she said.

  “Faster!” Harrison cried.

  The trees were only a few yards away. Zoe and Harrison flattened down on Pipsqueak’s back as the giant cat barreled between the trees, smashing the bushes, and then slowed down to weave between the tree trunks. Zoe wished she could tell her to keep running.

  “Wow, that was fast,” Harrison said queasily.

  “Was it fast enough?” Pipsqueak asked.

  “Absolutely.” The truck had been far away. If they’d gotten a picture, it couldn’t have been a good one. “Pipsqueak, I think you’re the fastest cat ever!”
r />   Pipsqueak let out a pleased purr.

  “We should stick to the woods, though, to be safe,” Harrison said. “And maybe not go quite so fast?”

  “Please don’t vomit in the fur,” Pipsqueak and Zoe said simultaneously.

  Harrison waved them off. “I’m fine,” he said. “At least I don’t feel as green as that dog looked. Did you see it back there? I think it’s still following us.”

  Zoe twisted, looking all around them. “Where?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s gone now,” Harrison said. “But it’s out there somewhere.”

  “I keep seeing it too,” Zoe said. “You know, I’m not sure it’s actually dangerous. It did growl at me in the woods—at least I thought that’s what I heard. Anyway, it didn’t attack. I just ran when I saw its teeth. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

  “It showed its teeth,” Harrison pointed out. “That’s reason enough to run.”

  “But . . . I don’t know.” It had been following them for a while now and hadn’t tried to attack or even approach them. Maybe it was just curious. Or something.

  “Do you think it’s always been green and toothy, or do you think it, you know, changed?” Harrison asked. “Like Pipsqueak and the mouse . . . Mouse, you really need a name. Do you have one?”

  “The class voted to name me Squeakers,” the mouse said. “But I don’t think that’s an awesome enough name for a mouse with wings.”

  “How about Mickey?” Harrison suggested.

  “Taken,” Zoe said.

  “Bat-mouse?”

  “Cute, but they’re more like butterfly wings,” Zoe said. “Buttermouse?”

  “Buttermouse.” Harrison nodded.

  “I love Buttermouse!” the mouse cried. “And I love my butterfly wings!”

  Zoe studied the mouse as he flew above them. She thought his fur was beginning to change color: hints of blue, green, and purple peeking through the white. She wondered if the dog had changed color the same way. Maybe he’d once been an ordinary animal too. Or he could be an entirely different kind of impossible creature.

  As they continued through the woods, Zoe kept an eye out for the green dog. A few times she thought she saw something, but then a squirrel or a bird would emerge from the branches. About a mile away from Aunt Alecia’s house, Harrison asked, “Do you think your aunt is really going to be able to help?”

  “She said she would,” Zoe said. “She knows about giant cats.”

  “What happened between your mom and her sister?”

  Zoe knew only what she’d overheard, but that was a fair amount. “They used to be close. Visited all the time. Talked a lot. But then . . . I don’t know. Fewer visits. And then when Mom started talking about taking a new job at the mayor’s office, they had an argument. My aunt claimed that one of her horses was actually a unicorn. Or a unicorn in a horse’s body. And my mom said she had to stop saying weird things like that because it would reflect badly on people who knew her . . . Mom’s new job is out in the public eye, and she has to be more careful of what people think.” She’s embarrassed by her own sister, Zoe thought, so embarrassed that she’s not speaking to her, just because Aunt Alecia believes in things that can’t exist. Like a giant cat. I was right not to tell Mom about Pipsqueak. “Anyway, Aunt Alecia didn’t like that, and they didn’t talk much after that.”

  “Do you think she really has a unicorn?” Harrison asked.

  “We have Pipsqueak and Buttermouse,” Zoe said. “I don’t think it’s impossible.” She considered it, trying to imagine a real, live unicorn. All she could picture were cartoon unicorns, like She-Ra’s rainbow-maned winged unicorn. “Do you think it burps cupcakes?”

  “Almost certainly,” Harrison said. And then he burped, as if to demonstrate that he did not belch cupcakes. Both of them laughed. Buttermouse, back on Pipsqueak’s tail, his favorite perch, squealed with mouse laughter.

  And then Pipsqueak halted.

  Zoe felt the cat’s shoulder muscles tense beneath her, and Pipsqueak’s nose twitched.

  Harrison whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  Quietly Pipsqueak spelled, “D-o-g.”

  Ahead of them, between two bushes, stood the green dog. It was smaller than Harrison’s Fibonacci, with fur that stuck out at all angles. It didn’t look scary, especially while Zoe was up on Pipsqueak’s back. Its tail was tucked between its legs, and its mouth was closed, hiding its many teeth.

  “It’s a terrier,” Harrison whispered. “And it can’t spell.” He amended, “Probably?”

  “It must have followed us,” Zoe said. But why? “I’m going to make friends.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Harrison asked. “Remember the teeth?”

  She couldn’t forget the sight of those teeth. Still, in daylight, the dog looked harmless, more frightened than vicious. Maybe I was wrong about it. Like the mother and the cashier were wrong about Pipsqueak.

  Sliding off Pipsqueak’s back, Zoe crept toward the dog with her hand outstretched, palm up. “That’s a good boy. Stay. Good boy.”

  The dog was even greener than Zoe remembered, with green eyes too. Definitely unusual, Zoe thought. It began to wag its tail. Or . . . tails? “Are those extra tails?” She didn’t remember seeing multiple tails, though it had been dark.

  Buttermouse had perched on one of the branches above them. “I see three!” he cried. Sure enough, the green dog had three fluffy tails.

  Zoe stepped closer, and then Pipsqueak stuck her head past Zoe to look at the tails.

  The dog yelped, turned, and ran.

  “Sorry,” Pipsqueak said. “I just wanted to see it better.”

  “Should we follow it?” Harrison asked.

  Returning to Pipsqueak, Zoe shook her head. “We don’t want to scare it more. Maybe it will approach us again if we don’t act threatening. Let’s just get to Aunt Alecia’s and worry about the dog later.”

  The map on Harrison’s phone led them to a rustic house beneath a circle of pine trees. Made of uneven wood, it looked like a beautiful patchwork quilt, every slat stained a different color. Outside, there were three sheds and all sorts of equipment strewn about—a riding lawn mower, various saws, several workbenches, as well as a huge pile of chopped wood leaning up against one side of the house. And many lawn ornaments made out of carved wood: lots of bears, several eagles, a few wolves. Pipsqueak approached slowly, keeping near the pine trees.

  There weren’t any neighbors close enough to see, which was good. Zoe looked for signs of movement inside. Maybe Aunt Alecia was at the back of the house.

  “She likes boxes,” Pipsqueak said approvingly, sniffing the nearest shed and poking at it with her nose. It creaked as it tilted to the side, and she withdrew. “I didn’t do it.”

  “Yes, you did,” Zoe said, climbing off her back. “Try not to break anything, okay? I’m going to knock on the door.”

  “What should I do?” Pipsqueak asked.

  Zoe was suddenly nervous. This is it! “Hide somewhere, at least until we know whether she’s alone.” They’d made it all the way here. It would be terrible to mess up at the very last moment.

  “Good idea,” Harrison said. “What do you think she’s going to say when she realizes we’re here on our own?”

  “Worst case, she calls my parents.” Though she tried to say it as if that was no big deal, she privately thought it would be a disaster. If Aunt Alecia broke her silence to report that Zoe had lied about camp and was wandering around New Hampshire, Zoe’s parents would be beyond upset. Let’s hope she really doesn’t want to talk to Mom.

  And that she’s willing to talk to me.

  Zoe squared her shoulders, approached the house, and knocked on the door.

  She waited.

  No one answered.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to peer into the window at the top of the door. All she saw was the hint of a hallway. Green wallpaper. A mirror. A few mobiles made of forks and spoons and feathers. Zoe knocked again and called, “Hello? A
unt Alecia, are you home?”

  Behind her, she heard a crash.

  She turned to see Pipsqueak standing next to a knocked-over shed. She’d tried to hide behind it, and it had collapsed like a house of cards, but hiding hadn’t worked well anyway. She’d grown on their journey and was now the size of an elephant. The shed’s roof had skidded off the walls, and all the walls themselves lay in a heap. It exposed a half-finished wood sculpture of a moose.

  “Is anyone home?” Harrison called.

  “I don’t think so.” Zoe tried the door, and it swung open easily. She poked her head inside. “Hello? Aunt Alecia? It’s your niece, Zoe. You said to come . . .” She trailed off.

  Propped up on a table across from the door was an envelope with two names on it: “Evie and Zoe.” Mom and Zoe . . .

  “Aunt Alecia’s not here,” Zoe said, loud enough for Pipsqueak and Harrison to hear her. Disappointment tasted bitter. It hadn’t occurred to her that they could make it all the way here and Aunt Alecia might not be home. “Maybe she’ll be back soon? She left a note.”

  She must have believed that Mom would bring her and Pipsqueak. She couldn’t have guessed that Zoe would come on her own. Well, not quite on my own. Hesitating for only a second, Zoe darted in and opened the letter.

  Harrison trotted into the house. “What’s it say?”

  Pipsqueak poked her nose through the doorway to listen.

  “It’s addressed to my mom and me.”

  Dear Evie and Zoe,

  I apologize for not being here when you arrived, but I wasn’t certain when (or if) you’d come, and I had business that couldn’t wait. There’s been a sighting of an unusual animal, and I need to see if it needs my help.

  As for your giant cat problem, bring your cat to the location marked on the map, and you’ll find the help you seek. In the meantime, please make yourself at home. There’s food in the kitchen and cat food in the pantry.

  Love,

  Aunt Alecia

  With a sinking heart, Zoe unfolded a map behind the letter. It showed the White Mountains to the north, with a star drawn in the middle of the wilderness, far from the towns and ski resorts. Many miles away. She held it up for the others to see. “She wants us to take Pipsqueak into the mountains.”