by R. L. Stine
“M-maybe we should give them back their cat,” I stammered. We were across the street from our school. No other kids in sight. We were definitely late.
“We can’t do that,” Amanda insisted. “You don’t want to tell the Caplans what happened to Bella, do you?”
“I—I—” I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I just didn’t want three angry-looking men searching for me.
“They’ll give up and go back to their store,” Amanda said. “It’s just one little cat. It’s not such a big deal.”
“Then why did they say we don’t know the trouble we’re in?” I asked.
Amanda shrugged. “Guess they don’t like cat thieves.”
We crossed the street and ran the rest of the way to the front doors of the school. Miss Harris wasn’t in the classroom. So she didn’t see us sneak in late.
I dropped my backpack on the floor and sat down in my seat. I mopped the sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt.
I realized I hadn’t told Amanda about the cat sounds in my room last night. The meows and the floating shadows that kept me up all night and what happened to my poor fish.
I’ll tell her at lunch, I decided.
My friend Aaron sits next to me. He’s a big, happy-looking guy with glasses, spiky red hair, and a lot of freckles. Aaron always seems to be grinning. That’s his natural expression.
He poked me in the ribs. “What’s your problem, Mickey?” he asked. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“Don’t SAY that!” I cried. “Don’t mention cats!”
“Well, of course slavery is what divided the states before the Civil War,” Miss Harris was saying. “But what was the actual cause of the war? Anybody have an idea? Raise your hand.”
Miss Harris is the coolest teacher in our school. She is young and awesome looking with straight blond hair and big blue eyes.
She wears jeans and T-shirts with the names of rock bands on them. And she has a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on the back of one hand.
“Anybody know the direct cause of the war?” she asked. “Let’s see some hands. Did you read the chapter?”
I turned my head so Miss Harris wouldn’t see me yawning. I couldn’t stop yawning all morning. I felt so sleepy, I just wanted to put my head on the desk and conk out.
This was an important morning to be awake and alert. She was starting the Civil War unit this morning.
I should have been taking notes.
But my ears were ringing. And my eyes kept going blurry. And my mouth kept opening in yawn after yawn.
I know I’m only twelve. But like I said, I’m not a night owl. I really need my sleep.
“That’s right,” Miss Harris was saying. “The root cause of the war was secession.”
She wrote the word on the whiteboard. “Now we are going to go back in time a little and …”
I missed what she said after that because I yawned again. It was taking all my strength to try to hold in my yawns so she wouldn’t see them. But it was a losing battle.
I pulled some paper from my backpack and wrote at the top of a fresh page:
Secession. Root cause.
I raised my head to see what she was writing on the whiteboard now. And that’s when I heard the first meow.
I jumped a mile.
The cat’s cry was right behind me.
I spun around hard.
I didn’t mean to bump Aaron. But I jerked around so fast, my shoulder crashed into his head, and I almost knocked his glasses off.
“Hey!” he cried out. “What’s your problem?”
“Didn’t you hear it?” I whispered.
“Is there a problem?” Miss Harris turned to stare at Aaron and me.
Meeeow.
“N-no!” I stammered. “No problem.”
“Well, Mickey, do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” she asked.
“No. Sorry,” I said. “I … uh … dropped my pencil.”
Yeeeeow.
Another cat cry. This time under my seat.
I bent down to find the cat. Nothing under there.
Yeeeeoww.
I sat back up. I felt dizzy. The room started to spin.
I heard another cat cry behind me. And then a long, shrill yowl from under my desk again.
I jumped to my feet. I stepped away from the chair. Then I spun around to see the cats.
“Where are they?” I cried. “Where?”
Kids turned to stare. A few kids laughed.
“Mickey, what’s wrong?” Miss Harris asked. “Are you okay? Sit down, please. Sit down.”
Yeeeoowww.
“But—don’t you hear them?” I cried. “Miss Harris, don’t you hear them?”
20
Kids started to laugh. I guess they thought I was goofing.
Aaron grabbed me and tried to pull me back to my seat. But I missed the chair and landed on my butt on the floor.
That made everyone roar.
I saw Miss Harris laughing along with everyone else. I could feel my face getting hot. I knew I was blushing like crazy.
I was frightened and embarrassed at the same time.
Aaron helped pull me to my feet.
The laughter rang in my ears. But I didn’t care about that. I gazed all around, searching for the cat.
Finally, Miss Harris gave the school signal for quiet—two fingers raised above her head. The room grew silent.
Yeeeooow.
I was still on my feet. My legs trembled. My heart was thudding in my chest.
“Don’t you hear it?” I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Hear what, Mickey?” Miss Harris asked. She came down the aisle till she stood right in front of me. “What do you hear? I’m listening. I don’t hear anything.”
Yeeeooow.
“There. It did it again. It’s—it’s a cat,” I stammered. “There’s a cat in here. But I can’t find it.”
She narrowed her blue eyes at me. She frowned. “Is this a dare? Did Aaron dare you to do this?”
Aaron shot both hands up in the air. “No way!” he screamed. “I didn’t do anything. He’s crazy!”
“It’s not a dare,” I said. I raised my right hand. “I swear.”
Miss Harris turned to face the class. “Does anyone else hear a cat? Is Mickey the only one who hears it?”
A few kids laughed. No one raised a hand.
“Amanda, please —” I called. She sits in the front row. I needed her help. “Amanda—do you hear it?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “Maybe …” Her voice drifted off. She didn’t finish her sentence.
“Everyone look under your seats,” Miss Harris said. “Look all around. Find the cat.”
She turned back to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I hope someone finds a cat, Mickey,” she said. “I hope you didn’t interrupt the Civil War for a joke.”
“Not a joke,” I muttered.
Chairs scraped as kids looked under their seats. On the other side of the room, two boys cupped their hands around their mouths and meowed.
“Last chance,” Miss Harris said. “Does anyone see a cat in here?”
“Yes! I do!” Aaron cried. He pointed under Miss Harris’s desk. “I see it! There it is!”
21
I gasped and tried to see where he was pointing.
Miss Harris stared at Aaron. “You really see a cat?” she demanded.
“No, actually, I don’t,” Aaron said. A grin spread over his round, freckled face. “Just messing with you!”
The class erupted in a riot of laughter. Kids hee-hawed and bumped knuckles. A bunch of kids started meowing.
Miss Harris trotted back to the front of the room. She raised her hand in the Quiet signal again. And a few seconds later, the noise stopped.
I saw Amanda staring at me with an unhappy scowl on her face. She motioned with both hands for me to sit down. So I d
id.
Aaron punched me on the shoulder. “Just funning with you,” he said. He giggled.
I forced a smile. I didn’t want to fight with him. I didn’t want any more trouble of any kind.
Miss Harris sat on the edge of her desk. She glanced up at the big wall clock behind her. “Almost lunchtime,” she said. She snapped her notebook shut. “I guess the Civil War will have to take a break till this afternoon. Thanks to Mickey’s invisible cat.”
Kids stared at me. I lowered my gaze to the floor.
They could stare and laugh all they wanted. Something very scary was going on here, and I was the only one who knew about it.
Even Amanda thought I was going nuts. I had to talk to her. I had to tell her about the shadow on the wall last night. And what happened to my poor fish.
The bell rang. I packed up my stuff and hurried to the lunchroom. Kids meowed at me all down the hall. I laughed and pretended it was all a big joke.
I searched for Amanda in the crowded lunchroom. But she wasn’t there yet.
The room smelled of hot dogs and beans. My stomach growled. I could have gone for two or three hot dogs. But Dad packs my lunch every morning. It’s always a ham sandwich or tuna salad, a box of juice, and an apple. I throw away all the apples.
I sat down at a table in the corner at the back of the room. No one else around. I watched the door for Amanda.
A huge red-and-yellow poster was strung along the ceiling. It read: support the snakes! That’s our team name—the South Middle School Rattlesnakes.
Our yearbook is called The Venom. Really.
Everyone loves snakes at my school. I think it’s kind of weird.
I waited another five minutes. The lunchroom was filling up with kids. I still didn’t see Amanda.
I opened my backpack to get my lunch bag. I gazed inside.
My breath caught in my throat. I started to choke.
I stared into the backpack in shock.
Stared at the orange cat gazing up at me.
And as I stared, the cat’s eyes began to glow— until they blazed bright red. The lips pulled back, baring yellowed fangs. And the cat opened its mouth wide in a furious hissssssss.
22
“N-no!”
I tried to scream, but my cry came out in a choked whisper.
The glowing red eyes seemed to burn my face.
I jumped up. Sent my chair toppling onto its back. I staggered away from the table, my eyes on the open backpack.
I spun to the door and saw Amanda enter the lunchroom with two or three other girls. I ran to her, stumbling over a kid’s backpack.
“Hey, watch out!” he shouted.
Some kids meowed. Someone threw an empty milk carton at me. It bounced off my shoulder.
“Amanda!” I called breathlessly. “Come here. You—you have to see this. I found the cat!”
I pulled her away from her friends. She gave them a helpless wave. “Catch you later,” she called to them.
She turned to me. “What’s your problem, Mickey? Why are you freaking out? Are you having a total meltdown?”
“Don’t talk,” I said. I pulled her through the crowded aisle between tables to the back of the room. “Don’t talk, Amanda. Just look.”
I grabbed the backpack off the table. I held it up to her and pulled it open so she could see inside.
She lowered her eyes. Blinked a few times. Gazed into the backpack. And uttered a startled cry. “Wow,” she murmured. “Mickey—wow.”
23
“I don’t see anything,” Amanda said. “Am I missing the joke?”
“J-joke?” I stammered. I jerked the backpack away from her and gazed inside.
I saw my binder, a few books, and my brown lunch bag.
“But—but —” I sputtered. “There was a cat in there. Listen to me, Amanda. When I opened it, I—I saw an orange cat. It must be the one I kept hearing in class. And —”
“Sit down,” she said sharply. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down to a chair. Then she dropped into the chair beside me.
“What’s up, Mickey? You’ve been totally berserk all morning.”
I slid the backpack closer and dug my hand around in it. “I’m not making it up,” I said.
“Just tell me what’s going on,” Amanda insisted.
Some girls from our class waved to her at the next table. But she kept her eyes locked on me.
I shoved the backpack across the table. “I—I don’t know what’s going on,” I stammered. “It started last night.”
I told her how I kept hearing a cat meow in my room. And how I searched everywhere and couldn’t find it. I told her about the shadow. And about my goldfish. How I found chunks of fish floating at the top of the tank.
Amanda made a disgusted face. She stuck out her tongue. “Bleccccch.”
“It’s not a joke. It really happened,” I said. “And I didn’t tell you the weirdest thing of all.”
She squinted hard at me. “You’re not making this up? You’re not trying to scare me?”
I raised my right hand. “I swear.”
She pressed her hand to my forehead, pretending to take my temperature.
“Then I kept hearing a cat in class this morning,” I said. “That’s why I jumped up like that. Maybe it was the cat in my backpack. I’m not making any of this up. I’m totally freaking out, Amanda.”
She stared at me. “You’re just stressed and upset,” she said finally.
“Upset?”
“Yes. Because of the switch we pulled with Bella,” Amanda said. “First, the cat was killed. The cat we were responsible for. That’s very upsetting, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Then you stole a black cat from the pet store.”
“I stole it?” I cried. “I thought we stole it.”
“Yes, but you did the actual running out the door stealing thing,” Amanda replied. “And I think you’re very messed up about that.”
“True,” I said. “And then the new Bella acts totally weird. Sweet and gentle one minute. Then like a fiendish monster the next minute.”
Amanda nodded her head. “Yes. And it all has you totally wired and freaked out,” she said.
“So?”
“So … that explains why you’re hearing cats all the time, Mickey. And why you’re seeing cats everywhere.”
“I get it,” I said. “You think I’m crazy.”
“Not crazy. Stressed,” she replied. “Totally stressed.”
“You’re wrong, Amanda,” I said. “I’m not imagining any of these things. What about my goldfish? Do you think I chewed my own goldfish to pieces? I’m not imagining any of this. It’s real. It’s all real.”
She stood up. She patted my shoulder. “If it’s all real, Mickey, how come you’re the only one who heard the cat in class this morning?”
My mouth dropped open. I wanted to answer that. But I had no answer.
“I have to get some lunch,” Amanda said. She patted my shoulder again. “Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Awesome advice,” I muttered. But she was already on her way to the lunch line.
Okay, I thought, so she doesn’t believe me.
She’d believe me if I showed her what was floating in my goldfish tank.
I started to feel a little angry. I mean, this whole cat switch was Amanda’s idea. And now she didn’t want to hear what was really going on. She just wanted to believe that I was imagining things.
I realized my stomach was growling again. I slid the backpack closer. I peered inside before I reached in and tugged out the brown paper lunch bag.
I started to unfold the bag. But I stopped when I felt something weird. Something lumpy and hard inside the bag.
A sour aroma floated out. Something stank.
I reached inside and wrapped my fingers around it. I tugged it out—and tried to scream.
But it’s impossible to scream and gag at the same time.
24
A dead mouse.
My hand was wrapped around a dead gray mouse.
Its body was stiff and hard. Its eyes had sunk into their sockets. I saw deep bite marks on its back.
The smell was sickening.
The mouse fell from my trembling hand. It thudded on the table and bounced onto the floor.
I jumped to my feet. Was the dead mouse a gift from the cat? It was the kind of present a cat would leave.
I couldn’t think straight. I knew I couldn’t eat. I smelled my hand. It reeked of dead mouse.
I tossed the lunch bag in the trash. Then I hurried out of the lunchroom. I heard Aaron calling me. I just waved to him and kept walking.
I didn’t really know where I was going. I needed to find someplace quiet and try to figure this out.
Or maybe I needed to tell someone what was happening. Maybe tell my parents the whole truth.
I had gym right after lunch. I wandered into the gym. But no one was there yet.
Two volleyball nets had been set up in the middle of the floor. Bright lights made the polished floor gleam.
For a moment, I thought I saw someone sitting in the bleachers at the far end. But it was just a blue jacket someone had draped over a bench.
I made my way to the locker room to change into my gym clothes.
I pulled open the door and stepped inside. About twenty degrees hotter in here. The locker room air smelled damp and sweaty.
I felt something soft under my shoe.
“Ohhh!” What did I step on?
A cat?
No.
I jumped back. A balled-up pair of gym socks.
Take it easy, Mickey.
Maybe Amanda is right about you.
I heard water dripping in the shower room. “Anybody in here?” I shouted. My voice echoed off the tile walls.
No reply.
My locker was near the back, across from the shower room. I stepped up to it and grabbed the combination lock. I started to turn the combination—then stopped.
I knew what I’d find inside the locker. A cat.
I started to tremble. I just stood there with both hands on the combination lock. Afraid to turn it. Afraid to open the little gym locker.
