by Jo Knowles
“How many mice do you think she actually kills every day?” Ryan asks.
“I don’t know. Hopefully not more than one. Isn’t that what the Tank said?”
“Still. That adds up to three hundred and sixty-five murders a year. Minimum.”
“It’s a lot.”
“Especially for someone so puny.”
She looks up at us and purrs, asking for a pat. But I can’t bring myself to touch her weird skin, so I just kind of gently rub her back through her vest. Today’s is blue with a gray Totoro on the back, smiling up at me.
“Class is over,” Ms. Cliff sort of sings. “Make sure you put everything you leave out of Curly’s reach!”
I follow Ryan out to the hall and nearly plow into him as soon as we step outside, because he has stopped in his tracks.
“What. Is. That?” he asks.
I look. Sam and Molly appear to be making out at Sam’s locker. We step closer, and sure enough, that is exactly what we see. They seem totally oblivious of the growing crowd entering the hall.
“Unbelievable,” Ryan says. “Sam gets his first kiss before us?”
“I didn’t know it was a competition,” I say.
As we walk by, Ryan bumps into Sam. “Get a room,” he says.
“Hey!” Sam wipes his mouth. His lips are bright red. So are his cheeks.
Molly stares at him like he’s a super stud. “See you later,” she says, then kisses him on the cheek.
Ryan shakes his head and opens his locker in disgust.
“What?” Sam asks.
“You,” Ryan says. He grabs a book and slams his locker.
“Huh?”
Instead of answering, Ryan storms down the hall.
“Boy,” Sam says, “I never thought Ryan would be the jealous type.”
We watch Ryan turn the corner at the end of the hall and go into Madame Estelle’s room, then bolt back out, covering his mouth and nose. “Stupid Fart Squad!” he yells. He kicks a locker door and storms away.
“Wow. He used to want to be a member,” Sam says, grabbing his French book. “He’s been acting weird ever since I started dating Molly.”
I don’t deny it.
“We need to find someone for him before he drives me crazy.”
“But who?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. Sadie? I know he has a crush on her.”
My heart sinks.
“No offense or anything,” he says. “I know you probably kind of like her. But I think if anything was going to happen with the two of you, it would have. That ship has sailed. You really blew your chance at the dance, Noah.”
“I thought she was dating Tate. Why would I have made a move at the dance?”
“They have an open relationship,” Sam says, acting all sophisticated.
“What the heck does that mean?”
He pushes his glasses up his nose. “They can date other people.”
“Why would they do that?” I ask.
“How should I know?” he says, suddenly sounding like his old self. “Molly told me they’re more like friends who want to date someone but haven’t found anyone else, so they stay together, even though they don’t really like each other as more than friends.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Well, we’re all dumb,” Sam says. “In one way or another.”
“How are you dumb?”
“I don’t know. I just am.” He smiles and leans his head toward me. “Molly thinks I’m a good kisser,” he whispers.
I pull my head away. “I can’t believe you kissed her with that breath,” I say, waving my hand in front of my face.
“What?” He breathes into the cup of his hand and blows, then sniffs. “I don’t smell anything.”
“You can’t smell your own breath, dummy.”
“What does it smell like?”
“Onions.”
He nods. “Molly shared her salad with me.”
“What is it with you two and smelly food?”
He rifles through his bag and pulls out a tin. “Mints!”
“Terrific,” I say. “You might want to share them with Molly.”
“I will,” he says gleefully. “And then we’ll make out again.”
“Good for you.” I’m tempted to storm down the hall like Ryan at this point, but I don’t. “Just don’t do it in front of me. And especially not Ryan.”
“Fine. Hey, do you really like Sadie? Or have you given up? Seriously.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe both.”
“Well, decide,” he says. “Because Molly and I need someone to double-date with, and I can’t stand Tate.”
“That’s generous.”
“You know what I mean. C’mon. Ask her out.”
“I don’t think so,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Sheesh. I never thought I’d be the one with a girlfriend and you and Ryan would be the ones left alone.”
“Whatever,” I say.
I’m starting to get why Ryan has been so moody.
In French, Madame Estelle makes us repeat after her, “Elle est petite. Il est petit. Nous sommes petits.” Ryan ignores us by pretending to pay attention and be a good student. He says the phrases extra loud, with a French-accent flair. Madame Estelle beams at him. It’s so annoying.
I say the words quietly because I hate my accent. Sam bellows out the words in an exaggerated way, which makes him sound more like a loud Texan than a Parisian.
“Bon! Bon!” Madame Estelle keeps saying, though, like she doesn’t mind. “Qui peut me donner un exemple de quelque chose de petit?” Madame asks.
An example of something small? Hm. I don’t know. This is when Ryan’s Who’s to say? trick could possibly come in handy.
Lily pipes up. “Curly est petite!”
“Oui! Quoi d’autre?”
“Noah’s tête est petite,” Ryan says.
“What?” I say.
“Monsieur Ryan,” Madame says, “qu’est-ce que vous avez dit?”
“Uhhhh,” Ryan stammers. “La tête de Noah est petite?”
He points to my head, and everyone looks at me.
“It is!” Sam says, and starts laughing. The class joins in, including Sadie.
“En français!” Madame demands.
I give Ryan a dirty look, but he just grins.
I would like to say Ryan is a small emu, but I don’t know the words en français. Why can’t every class be as easy as art?
After school, we sit on the steps and wait for our rides. Tate and Sadie come out and disappear behind the storage unit, where the school keeps the outdoor gym equipment. Miranda and Belle follow, then Molly and Sam. Before Sam goes behind the building, he looks back at us and waves.
“What do you think they do back there?” I ask Ryan.
“What do you think?” he answers sarcastically.
I picture them all making out. “That’s not very romantic,” I say.
“Well, where else are they gonna go?” he asks.
“Good point.”
We both sigh at the same time and watch the shed.
“Has anyone seen Curly?” the Tank calls from behind us. “I can’t find her. I hope she didn’t get out. No one let her out, right?”
If anyone did, no one admits it.
Ryan and I jump up. “We’ll find her,” Ryan says.
Lily follows us inside. We wander through the classrooms and call her name.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” Lily sings.
“Cur-ly!” I call encouragingly. “Want a treat?”
“You don’t have a treat,” Ryan says.
“She doesn’t know that. It’s how we get the Captain to come when we want him.”
“That’s mean.”
“She’s happy with a pat. Don’t worry about it.”
“She’ll never trust you again.”
“I’ll risk it.”
We call and call, but there’s no sign of her. The longer we look, the more I get that helpless feel
ing again. What if she got outside? How will she survive in the cold with just her measly vest?
After searching all the classrooms, we go to the Community Room and look under the couches and in the closets but can’t find her there, either.
“What if she ran away?” Lily asks. “Would she do that?”
“Why would she leave such a good situation?” Ryan asks. “Plenty of clothes. Mice. Always a lap to sit on? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Curly!” I call out again. “Curly, come get a treat!”
Something in the ceiling scratches.
“Curly?” Lily says.
Scratch.
“Curly! Is that you?” I ask.
Scritch-scratch.
“She’s stuck in the ceiling! Mr. Sticht! We found her!” Lily yells.
Ryan and I drag a table under the part of the ceiling where we heard the scratching, then climb up. The ceiling is made up of a bunch of square-shaped pieces that you can push up and move, so we start pushing a bunch, careful to avoid touching the wads of gum some student from the past pelted up here, until I can feel the weight of Curly on one. “Here!” I say to Ryan, pointing to the next square.
“Careful, boys,” the Tank says when he comes bounding into the room.
Ryan slowly pushes the square next to the one Curly is on up and over, leaving a big hole in the ceiling.
Curly peeks out and mews pitifully.
“C’mon, girl,” Ryan says.
“Treat,” I add.
Curly mews again and pokes a paw out.
Ryan reaches up for her and pulls her down. “She’s shaking!”
“Give her to me,” Lily says, holding out her hands.
“But you’re allerg —”
“I’ll take her,” I say, interrupting Ryan before he can spill the beans and get Curly kicked out.
I jump down from the table and reach up for Curly. She has a cobweb hanging from one ear. I wipe it off and then hold her against my chest. She starts to purr.
“Poor thing,” the Tank says. “Curly, what on earth were you doing up there?”
“Maybe there was a mouse,” Lily says.
“In the ceiling?” Ryan asks. “Gross!”
“Mice are everywhere,” Lily says matter-of-factly.
“I’m just glad we found her,” the Tank says. “You had us worried sick, girl!”
“How do you think she got up in there?” I ask.
“Who knows? It’s an old building. There are holes all over the place. I’ll have Ms. Leonard take a look.” Ms. Leonard is the school janitor.
“You guys should probably go back out. Your rides might be here.”
“Be good,” I say, setting Curly on the floor. She shakes herself like a wet dog, then walks over to the Tank and rubs against his legs.
“Crazy cat,” he says. There’s a catch in his voice, as if he got choked up.
Lily hooks her arms through mine and Ryan’s. “My heroes,” she says. It’s embarrassing, but also feels kind of nice. I look over at Ryan, who has a huge grin on his face. Too bad Lily is dating the pole dancer.
As we climb the stairs, Sam and Molly start toward us. “What happened?” Sam asks. Their cheeks are bright red, which, according to Sam, means that they’ve been kissing a long time.
“My heroes saved Curly,” Lily says, letting go of our arms. “She got stuck in the ceiling, but they got her out safe and sound.”
Sam looks impressed. We all go back out and sit on the steps. Molly sits on the one below Sam and leans back against his legs.
Ryan takes one look at them and rolls his eyes so hard, I think they’ll get stuck up there. “Get a room,” he says, annoyed. It’s his new phrase whenever they so much as hold hands.
They ignore him.
“Noah!” Emma yells from the passenger side of our car as my mom pulls forward. “C’mon!”
“Hey, Emma,” Ryan calls to her.
Emma waves and gives him her “I’m so cute, of course you have a crush on me” smile.
“See you guys tomorrow,” I say.
Lily stands up when I do and gives me a hug. “Thanks for saving Curly.”
“Um, no problem,” I say awkwardly.
“Hey, how come you didn’t hug me?” Ryan asks.
“I was waiting to hug you good-bye. Stand up and I’ll hug you now if you want.”
Ryan jumps up, and Lily throws her arms around him. He smiles at me over her shoulder.
“Get a room,” I say.
“Ha, ha.”
“That was a nice hug,” Emma says when I get into the car.
“Is everything OK, honey?” my mom asks. “Why was Lily consoling you?”
“She wasn’t consoling me — she was thanking me for helping Curly get unstuck from the ceiling.”
“Stupid cat,” Stu says.
“She was probably trying to catch a mouse or something. She’s not stupid.”
“They need to find a more humane way of keeping the mouse population down,” Emma says. “They should get some have-a-heart traps. If all the parents knew about Curly’s real purpose, they’d have a fit.”
“What do you mean her real purpose?” my mom asks.
“She’s the school assassin,” Emma says.
“No, she’s not!” Harper says. “She’s the school therapy pet.”
“She’s both,” I say. “And don’t tell anyone, Harper, or you could get her in trouble.”
“I don’t know about this . . .” my mom says.
“What’s there to know?” I ask. “Why is everyone so against Curly?”
“She kills things,” Emma says.
“It’s not very hygienic,” my mom adds.
“What if she gets rabies?” Harper asks.
“You can’t get rabies from mice,” I say.
“How do you know?” Emma asks.
“Have you ever heard of a rabid mouse?”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“You seem awfully attached to that cat,” my mom says.
“She’s a good cat — that’s all. You guys are overreacting.”
After we drop off Harper and Stu, Emma turns around in her seat to talk again.
“Sadie’s older sister told me she thinks Sadie has a crush on you.”
“She has a boyfriend,” I point out.
Emma shrugs.
“Sadie is so cute!” my mom says. “I love her hair.”
“She has a boyfriend,” I point out again.
“Apparently that’s just for convenience.”
“She was making out with him behind the storage shed. That doesn’t seem like convenience.”
“Where were the teachers when this was happening?” my mom asks.
“Never mind,” I say.
“Maybe she just kisses him for fun,” Emma says, ignoring my mom. “It doesn’t mean she likes him.”
“Really, Emma,” my mom says. “I doubt Sadie is like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know what I mean,” my mom says.
Emma turns back around to face my mom. “No, I don’t, Mom. Why don’t you explain?”
“Can we stop talking about this now?” I ask. I can tell by the tone of her voice that Emma is about to get preachy about girls and double standards.
I see my mom purse her lips in the mirror, as if she’s forcing herself to stop talking in order to avoid a fight with Emma. It seems like the two of them are at each other more and more lately.
Emma deliberately shifts her body away from my mom and stares out the window.
We drive the rest of the way home in silence.
As soon as I get my homework spread out on my desk, Ryan texts me.
RYAN: I think Lily likes me
ME: Great
RYAN: No really
ME: Great!
RYAN: Why can’t you get excited?
ME: Great!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RYAN:
ME: Do you like her?
RYAN: I do
n’t know.
I call him.
“Why are you so excited that Lily likes you if you don’t even know if you like her?” I ask.
“It’s just nice that someone finally likes me, I guess.”
“Someone did like you, remember? Molly? And you hid from her for days. I can’t get those hours of my life I wasted with you in the bathroom back, you know.”
“It wasn’t hours.”
“Any time spent in the bathroom is multiplied by seven. It’s like dog years. Only a million times worse, because they are horrible years.”
“Fine. Sorry.”
“So, are you going to hide from Lily or go after her? You are aware that she’s actually dating the pole dancer. Right?”
“Well, yeah. But that’s not gonna last. She just said yes to him because she had fun at the dance with him. He mostly disgusts her. She just forgot.”
“Why do you sound so miserable again?”
He’s quiet. “Am I shallow?”
“No. You’re emu.”
“Emo.”
“Right. That.”
“I don’t actually think I am anymore. I’ve discovered I’m not really all that sensitive.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say. “But at least you’re nice to Curly.”
“She seems to be the only person who doesn’t annoy me lately.”
“Except that she’s not a person.”
“Ugh. I know! That’s probably why. Can you imagine if she was a person? She’d be awesome.”
“Except a human who catches mice with her teeth and claws and then tortures them before killing and eating them would be pretty creepy and gross.”
“True. And a human would look really stupid in those vests.”
“Do you think cats can get rabies from killing mice?”
“Do mice get rabies?” Ryan asks. “I’ve never heard of a rabid mouse, but a little mouse zombie frothing at the mouth would be amazing. That would make the best movie ever.”
I move over to my bed and lie down. Up on my ceiling, there are little gray marks from the time Ryan, Sam, and I bounced a Super Ball off the wall and tried to catch it from our sleeping bags. I think we were eight or so. That was a fun night, until my mom came up to check on us and had a fit. She told me we were going to have to paint the ceiling as punishment. We were all set to do it the next weekend, too. But the next weekend is when the Thing We Don’t Talk About happened, and my mom forgot all about the ceiling. And for a while, all about me.
