Kitten Catastrophe

by Anna Wilson

  A horrible thought occurred to me. Oh no! What if Jaffa had brought me a ‘present’? Kaboodle, her uncle, used to do that. He once left a mouse in my shoe when I was looking after him during my pet-sitting days, and Dad had found other ‘gifts’ from Kaboodle in all kinds of inappropriate places. What if Jaffa was feeling guilty about nipping me and had tried to make amends by leaving a mouse in my school bag? I had heard stories of mice playing dead, the cat thinking they had finished off their prey, only for the rodent to come to life the minute the cat had gone away.

  I glanced up to see if Fergus or Kezia had noticed, but they were too busy jabbering about the band.

  Rustle. Rustle.

  There it was again! And this time the movement was accompanied by a distinctly squeaky noise.

  I shoved my fist in my mouth to stop myself from screaming. My heart was fluttering like a trapped butterfly, but there was no way I was going to lose the plot in front of Fergus and that girl.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said firmly. I pushed myself up to standing so that Kezia had to stop leaning over me and let me out into the aisle.

  Even then she didn’t look at me properly, just curled her lip in a sour impression of a smile and slid into my empty seat so she could lean in to Fergus even closer. I was focusing on keeping a hold on my jumping, squeaking bag. But even as I wriggled past people’s rucksacks and legs and prayed that I would not make a fool of myself in front of the whole bus by tripping over and falling on my face, I saw Fergus roll his eyes and shoot me a sheepish lopsided grin over the top of Kezia’s head.

  I didn’t have time to think what that meant; I had to get to the front of the bus so that when it stopped I could be the first to get off. I would have to run and dump the mouse round the corner from the school gate so that it didn’t come into the yard with me.

  I shuddered and willed the bus to get to school faster: my mind was full of images of a monster mouse with savage teeth, making a meal out of the books in my bag.

  At last the bus pulled up outside the gates. It was as if an invisible hand had turned up the volume: the giggling and gossiping from everyone on board increased as they scrambled to their feet and collected their belongings. I muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver as he opened the doors to let me off, and then I legged it.

  ‘Hey, wait up, Bertie!’ I could hear Jazz calling me, but didn’t stop. Even though part of me badly wanted some help with whatever it was in my bag, I somehow didn’t think my best mate would be much use faced with a mouse. She was the kind of girl who screamed if a ladybird landed on her hand.

  I gritted my teeth and pounded the pavement, putting as much distance as I could between myself and the other kids. Then, once I was sure I was out of sight, I opened my bag.

  ‘Bertie is not being careful today!’ A small voice that I recognized only too well bleated at me from the depths of my rucksack.

  I peered into the dark interior in astonishment. ‘Jaffa?’ I said. It couldn’t be. My mind really was playing tricks on me now.

  ‘Course me’s Jaffa,’ said an irritable voice. ‘Who does you think me is?’ And with that, a little ginger-and-white face appeared, looking very cross indeed. My kitten bared her tiny sharp teeth and hissed. ‘Me is not liking all the bumpy-bumpy. What is you doing to Jaffsie today? Me is only wanting a little snooze time.’

  ‘J-Jaffa!’ I stammered. ‘What are you doing in my bag?’

  ‘Me’s just tellin’ you. Is you stupid or something? Me is havin’ a snooze time. Or me was, before all the bumpy-bumpy—’

  ‘OK!’ I cut in frantically. ‘Listen, you may’ve thought you were just having a “snooze”, but as it happens you were “snoozing” in my school bag, and now we’re at school and I have to go in for register and I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m going to do with you!’

  ‘Bertie?’

  I whirled round, my free hand clamped to my mouth. Fergus was standing a couple of metres away, looking concerned.

  ‘Are you OK? You don’t look too good. Do you feel sick?’

  I glanced down and saw with relief that Jaffa had ducked into the bag, out of sight.

  ‘Yes, no, I mean, I’m fine,’ I babbled, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a bucket of cream. ‘I think I’ve dropped something, that’s all. You go in – the bell’s about to ring.’

  Fergus looked dubious. ‘I don’t think you look fine at all. You were leaning over with your head in your bag like you were about to throw up. And you’ve gone white! Let me take you to the sick room. We can call your dad.’

  ‘No!’ I almost shouted. ‘No,’ I repeated, more softly. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. I just thought I’d forgotten my science book, that’s all—’

  ‘I thought you said you’d dropped something,’ Fergus interrupted suspiciously.

  ‘Yes!’ I said brightly. ‘I dropped my pencil and then, when I bent down to pick it up and put it in my bag, I thought, Oh no! I’ve forgotten my science book!’

  What a numpty! I should tell him the truth . . .

  ‘Ferrr-guuus!’ Kezia was calling him from the school gates. ‘Are you coming or what?’

  I realized with a sinking heart that I couldn’t tell him about Jaffa. Not with Kezia there. She would think I was a right baby. Either that or completely insane. I was going to have to deal with this little problem alone.

  The bell was ringing shrilly, cutting through the crisp early-autumn air.

  ‘Go,’ I said, raising my eyebrows and flicking my head in Kezia’s direction.

  Fergus looked torn for an instant, then his face crumpled and he shot me a look of annoyance mixed with something like despair.

  My stomach tied itself into a tight knot as I wished he would ignore the other girl and come over. Then he would see Jaffa and realize what an awful predicament I was in. But then I found myself wanting him to go off with that girl and to stop feeling sorry for me. My confusion exploded into anger.

  I’m not some little puppy who needs looking after, I thought bitterly as I watched him turn and run through the gates.

  ‘Has the Fergus gone?’ Jaffa mewed from inside the bag.

  ‘Yes,’ I growled. ‘No thanks to you. Now listen to me, Jaffa. You have already got me into big trouble at home – AND you hurt me this morning! I am not going to get into trouble at school as well because of you. Argh! I don’t know what to do! I can’t take you home because I have to go to my form room now, and I can’t call Dad because he’s out at a meeting, so I guess you know what this means.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jaffa solemnly, blinking at me from among the jumble of books and stationery. ‘Jaffsie will sit with Bertie and be a good girl aaaaall day.’

  I felt totally knotted up with exasperation at this silly little kitten. The idea of her sitting calmly on my desk as if it was the most normal thing in the world while our form tutor, Mr Boyd, took the register, was quite ridiculous.

  ‘No, Jaffsie,’ I said firmly, drawing down the flap of my rucksack to cover her up. ‘You’re going to snuggle down and have a lovely long snooze just like you’d planned to, while I work hard at my lessons. And I am not going to hear a peep out of you until we are safely back at home at the end of the day. Understood?’

  Jaffsie yawned extravagantly and nodded as I covered her up. ‘Me is feeling just a teensy-weensy bit sleepyhead anyway,’ she said. ‘Me will just be as quiet as a tiny baby mouse who is very veee-rrry quiet. You’ll see.’

  8

  Gruesome Twosome

  It was possibly the worst day of my life. I just about got away with Jaffa’s snoring (which, by the way, was amazingly loud for such a small cat) by saying it was my stomach rumbling. And I think I convinced our maths teacher, Mrs Small, that the squeaking she found so aggravating was my chair, and I promised not to swing on it again. Every time a teacher’s back was turned, or there was enough classroom noise for me to hide behind, I would bend down and hiss for Jaffa to keep quiet.

  To her credit, Jaffa did at least refrain from trying t
o talk to me, but I was so nervy anyway that it didn’t make much difference. I spent the whole morning avoiding people and walking around with my rucksack glued to me. It was so stressful that, come lunchtime, I decided I could not go through the rest of the day like that, so I went to ask permission to call Bex. I would have to ask her to come and get Jaffa.

  Luckily the secretary didn’t ask any awkward questions, and she went to the other side of the office to do some photocopying while I made the call. Nevertheless, I felt excruciatingly guilty about all the deception and made an effort to kept my voice low.

  ‘Hi, Bex. It’s me, Bertie.’

  ‘Bertie? Why are you calling? Is everything all right?’ Bex said nervously.

  ‘Yes, well, not really. Listen, can you come to school in the next half-hour? It’s a bit of an emergency, but it’s OK, I’m not hurt or anything. I just – I just couldn’t think of anyone else to call, what with Dad in a meeting and everything,’ I said, flustered. The secretary was coming back over.

  ‘Erm, OK, yes. Shouldn’t be a problem. Ruth’s in again today, she can cover. But listen, I was just about to go and check on Jaffa – do you want me to—’

  ‘That’s just it,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s because of her that I need you here right now! I – I can’t explain on the phone.’ The secretary was looking at me inquisitively.

  I put on a bright, cheerful voice and said, ‘That would be sooo kind of you, Bex. You know where the school is, don’t you? That’s right! I’ll meet you in the reception area.’

  ‘Bertie?’ said Bex.

  I didn’t give her a chance to ask any more questions; I turned the phone off and left the office, praying she would come quickly.

  Just my luck: Jazz spotted me in the corridor and came running over. She and I had not been in the same lessons that morning as we were in different maths and English sets. Normally I would have been over the moon to hook up with her and go into lunch together, but this was not good timing. I pretended I hadn’t seen her and ducked into the girls’ loos, clutching my rucksack, which ominously was starting to wriggle again.

  I had my hand on the door when I felt someone clutch the back of my jumper.

  ‘Hey, slow down, Bert!’ Jazz panted. ‘You avoiding me?’ she asked, her chocolate-drop eyes locking with mine. ‘I tried saying hi this morning, but you were, like, totally manic, pushing your way off the bus and then running away. What’ve I done?’

  I hugged my bag close to my chest and said in a panicky voice, ‘Nothing, nothing! I’m just desperate for the loo.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Jazz, eyeing my bag suspiciously. ‘Hey, listen – you haven’t got my mobile, have you?’ she added.

  ‘No, of course not!’ I said irritably.

  ‘OK, OK. Chillax, girl!’ Jazz flapped her hands at me. ‘I just wondered. I mean, I’ve lost it and I just thought my best mate might be interested. Seeing as how we text each other all the time and everything. Or maybe you hadn’t even noticed that I haven’t been texting you.’

  ‘Jazz,’ I said shortly. ‘I’m sorry about your phone. I did think it was odd you hadn’t texted,’ I fibbed – I hadn’t even checked, what with everything that had been going on.’ But I do kind of need the loo quite badly right this minute. I’ll help you look for the phone later, OK?’

  ‘Whatever,’ Jazz said crossly. ‘I’ll see you in the lunch queue – save you a place?’

  I nodded, hardly daring to breathe. She gave my bag one last glance and then headed in the direction of the lunch hall.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. As soon as the coast was clear, I nipped over to reception and was relieved to see Bex’s little red car pulling up outside the school gates. It was a good job her shop was not too far away. I stood right by the door so that I could talk to her without anyone hearing.

  She spotted me immediately and came running over, her features etched with concern.

  ‘Bertie! You look very pale. Are you sure you’re all right? Your voice was so faint on the phone—’

  I thrust the rucksack into her arms and said, ‘She’s in there, Bex! I think she’s sleeping now. She totally freaked me out! She came to school with me! It’s been a nightmare. You’ve got to take her home.’

  ‘Slow down!’ Bex said, putting the bag on the ground before grabbing hold of my shoulders firmly. ‘What on earth is going on?’

  ‘Bex,’ I said, taking a deep breath, ‘I don’t know how this happened, and it’s definitely not my fault, but Jaffa must have climbed into my bag this morning, and I didn’t realize until I got to school. Please will you take her home for me?’

  I gulped, all the stress of the morning finally overwhelming me.

  ‘Oh my . . . !’ Bex snatched up my bag and peered carefully in through the flap.

  Jaffa let out an anguished mew. ‘Miiiiiiaaaaaoooow! It dark and nasty in here! Me wanna go hoooome!’

  ‘Oh dear, that naughty little kitten is giving you a hell of a time, isn’t she?’ Bex breathed. Her forehead creased in a frown. ‘First the fridge, now your bag; anyone would think she was trying to hide from something! I’ll take her right away. Don’t you need your bag?’

  ‘No, just take it!’ I said. ‘I’m sorry Bex, but I’ve got to go. Will you stay at home and wait for me if Dad doesn’t get back before me?’

  Bex put a hand on my shoulder and smiled warmly. ‘Of course I will. You’re not to worry about a thing. See you later.’

  She waved as she went to her car.

  I shot a furtive glance at the school office as I made my way into lunch, but thankfully the secretary was involved in a heated argument with one of the sixth-formers, so she didn’t notice me.

  I made it into lunch in time to be given the dregs of the pasta Bolognese just as Jazz was getting up from the table with her tray. She had eaten without me.

  ‘Thanks for waiting, Jazz,’ I said sarcastically, coming over.

  ‘Thanks for not turning up,’ she said, flicking her head back and setting her beads off in an irritated rattle.

  ‘I just did!’ I protested. ‘Oh please, don’t be like that, Jazz. I’ve had a terrible morning—’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ Jazz said, plonking herself back into her seat and setting her tray down with a bang. ‘How am I supposed to function without my phone? This “handing in” business was bad enough, but now it’s just disappeared!’

  I chewed the inside of my mouth as Jazz prattled on. She was always losing stuff. She’d probably left it somewhere at home. I tuned back in to her ranting, which had moved on from phones now.

  ‘And what is it with all this homework they’re giving us? Mr Greg gave us a ton of English to be handed in, like, tomorrow. I just can’t get my head around it. And it’s so unfair cos it means I have even less time to practise for my street-dance class – which is, like, totally immense, by the way. The teacher is awesome. And I so wanted to take up singing lessons, cos Kezia is like, “The singing teacher here is way cool,” but Mum’s just like, “No way are you taking on something else right now, young lady,” and I just . . .’

  Hmm. What was so fantastic about this Kezia? She had her claws into Fergus, and Jazz seemed totally smitten with her too.

  I let Jazz wibble on while I munched the cold pasta and thought about Jaffa’s stowaway antics. What on earth had possessed her? I didn’t buy that rubbish about wanting some ‘snooze time’.

  ‘Bertie? Hell-loooo!’ Jazz was waving her hands in front of my face. ‘Is there any life on Planet Bertie? Do we need to send out a search party?’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Well, ex-cuuuse me,’ said Jazz, hands on hips, ‘but if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying! You look like you’re on Planet Zombie.’

  ‘It was Planet Bertie a minute ago,’ I said wear-ily.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Jazz. She had her you-are-so-not-going-to-get-away-with-this look on her face, the one where she fixes me int
ently with her dark brown eyes and sets her mouth in a grim expression.

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘Hey, Jasmeena,’ said a sneery voice.

  Jazz whirled round, her back to me as she looked up at the speaker. She flushed with pleasure when she saw who it was. ‘Hey, Kezia!’

  The older girl stood with a hand on one hip, her mouth set in a sly smirk. She was accompanied by one of her creepy mates – Charlie, Fergus had said her name was. The pair of them looked like they were trying to model themselves on some kind of girl band. They wore mega-short skirts, enough make-up to sink a ship, and their hair was slicked back into high ponytails and held in place with shiny hairclips. They also wore gross huge hooped earrings, which hung below their jawline. They chewed gum as they spoke, their eyes hard, their expressions somehow managing to look disdainful even when they smiled. A right Gruesome Twosome.

  Has Halloween come early? I wondered.

  ‘Charlie and I thought you might want a look at this, seeing as how you’re so, like, famous and everything,’ Kezia said, shoving a piece of paper under Jazz’s nose.

  Jazz’s eyes sparkled as she read what was on it, and I watched her expression turn to one of total joy. I looked over her shoulder and saw the words: screaming out in bold red-and-black writing. A sick feeling churned in my stomach.

  ‘Can. You. Believe it?’ Jazz breathed, her hands flying to her face in ecstasy. ‘This is soooo mega. It’ll be just like Who’s Got Talent? Oh, Bertie. Isn’t this cool?’ She read out the words on the poster:

  ‘Yeah, we thought you’d be up for it, Jasmeena.’

  I winced at their use of Jazz’s full name. She normally hated it when people called her that. But instead of correcting the girls sharply as she would usually have done, she simply gushed, ‘Wow, this is, like, awesome!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Kezia. She twirled her shiny dark ponytail with one long painted fingernail and gave Jazz a tight-lipped smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll have loads to teach us amateurs. Won’t you, babe?’