Friend Or Fiend?

by Blume, Judy

  The Great One won't touch Fluzzy's mice. She says they're disgusting. Probably that's why Fluzzy likes me best. The Great One can't stand that Fluzzy sleeps on my bed. It makes her crazy that I'm Fluzzy's favorite. Maybe if she'd sniff his mice he'd like her better.

  I gave Fluzzy fresh water and poured food into his bowl. While he chowed down I opened the front door and stuck out my head. Brrrr ... it was freezing. But I didn't care how cold it was. I pulled my snow jacket over my pajamas, got into my snow boots, and grabbed a hat and mittens. I closed the door behind me so Fluzzy couldn't get out.

  I almost slid down the front steps because the snow was so deep you couldn't tell exactly where the steps were. Everything was white. I jumped off the steps. The snow was ^ fluffy. It wasn't as high as my waist, but it came up past my knees.

  I clomped around the front yard. I started a fort, but it wasn't that

  much fun trying to build a r fort by myself. So I gave up and rolled in the snow. I rolled all the way across our front yard. And all the way back.

  By then I had snow down my neck. My pajama bottoms were soaked. Plus I was hungry. So I went to the front door. But the doorknob wouldn't turn. I banged on it. I rang the bell ten times. I called, “Hello ... let me in!” Fluzzy came to the window next to the door and looked out at me. “Go get Mom or Dad,” I told him. He pawed at the glass, but that was it. I banged again. Louder this time. “Hello . . . somebody .. . anybody . . .”

  Finally, the Great One opened the door. She looked me up and down. “Why are you wearing pajamas in the snow?”

  I didn't answer.

  “You better change before Mom sees you.”

  But it was too late. Mom was already coming down the stairs. “Jake . . . you went out in the snow in your pajamas?” she said, like she couldn't believe it. “What were you thinking?”

  I wasn't thinking anything except about the snow, but I didn't tell that to Mom.

  “Go upstairs and change into dry clothes,” Mom said. “And bring me those wet pajamas.”

  Fluzzy smiled. Some people think cats can't smile, but I know they can. Sometimes Fluzzy laughs, even if I'm the only one who knows it.

  We were just about finished with breakfast when Justin came to the door. “Can Jake come out to play?” he asked Dad.

  “Snow fort!” we yelled when we were outside. We started building in the front yard. Dylan came over. Then a couple of other boys. Then Michael and Eric from fifth

  grade. We all worked together. I wished every day could be a snow day!

  When the Great One's friends came over, she raced out of the house with Fluzzy right behind her.

  Eric shouted, “No girls allowed in our fort!”

  “Who'd want to be in your fort?” the Great One said. She and her friends laughed and went to the backyard.

  Fluzzy sniffed the air. He tasted the snow. Then he tried walking in it, very slowly. I called to him, “Come on, Fluzz . . . you can do it.”

  That's when Madison Purdy and her little brother, Brett, showed up. What were they doing at our house? The Great One says if Madison Purdy was the last person on earth, she still wouldn't be friends with her.

  Fluzzy flew over the snow to our fort. Madison Purdy stopped in her tracks when she saw him. “I know that cat.”

  “No, you don't,” I said.

  “He looks just like my cat who ran away.” “Well, he's not,” I told her. “He's my cat.” “No, really .. .” she said. “I think it is Mister.”

  “It's not Mister,” I argued. “It's Fluzzy.” I wondered who would name a cat Mister?

  “I don't care if you stole my cat,” she said. “Because Mister was stupid and mean. He was always hissing.”

  Fluzzy took one look at Madison Purdy, hissed, and ran for his life. He ducked under the porch of our house.

  Madison watched. “Didn't that cat look like Mister?” she asked Brett.

  “Mister was a bad cat,” Brett said. “He didn't like me.”

  “That's because you pulled his tail.”

  “I pulled his tail because he didn't like me.”

  “Just stay away from my cat,” I told them both.

  “Where are the girls?” Madison asked. “I heard they were over here.”

  “In the back,” I told her.

  Madison headed for the backyard, dragging Brett with her.

  I went back to work on our fort with the other boys. It was a big fort. The biggest snow fort ever. But before we finished

  building it, before we even started making snowballs, someone yelled, “Attack/” And the girls came rushing at us, pounding us with snowballs.

  Thwack!

  Smash!

  Oomph!

  Ouch!

  We fought back. We scooped together snowballs as fast as we could, but by then the girls were leaping over our fort, jumping onto our backs. Justin went down. Dylan went down. Wham! I was tackled from behind and pushed facedown in the snow. I tried to yell for help. I tried to kick. But someone sat on my legs and held my head down. I couldn't breathe. Just when I thought that might be the end of me, someone else pulled her off.

  “What do you think you're doing to my brother?” It was the Great One.

  “Washing his face in snow,” Madison Purdy said.

  "How would you feel if I washed your

  little brother's face in snow?" the Great One asked Madison.

  “I wouldn't mind,” Madison said. “He deserves it.”

  “So do you!” The Great One scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it in Madison's face.

  Brett jumped up and down, clapping his hands. “Do it again!”

  Madison said, “Shut up, Brett!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “Let's get out of here.”

  “And don't come back!” the Great One shouted. “That means never!”

  “Never would be too soon for me!” Madison yelled.

  As they were leaving, Michael yelled, “Truce!” And the snowballs stopped flying.

  Then Eric shouted, “Sledding on Holden Hill!”

  In two minutes all the kids were racing home to get their sleds.

  The Great One ran for the garage to get hers. “This is the best day in the history of the world!” she sang. “You were right to be excited. Maybe it'll snow again tonight. Maybe tomorrow will be another snow day.”

  But I was thinking, One snow day at a time is enough for me. Fluzzy came out from

  under the house. I'm pretty sure he was thinking the same thing.

  Friend or Fiend?

  How Fluzzy Got His Name

  I like thunder, but Fluzzy doesn't. After supper tonight we had a thunderstorm. When Fluzzy heard the first rumble he flew up the stairs. I knew where he was going--to his favorite hiding place: the bathroom closet, way in back, on top of the towels.

  Charlie was babysitting the Great One and me. The three of us were playing Uno at the kitchen table. Lightning lit up the sky.

  [Image: Charlie babysitting]

  Then crash! “That was a big one!” I shouted. I had to shout because the Great One had cotton stuffed in her ears. She says she's not afraid of thunder. But I don't believe her.

  “What's today's date?” the Great One asked Charlie. She took the cotton out of one of her ears so she could hear.

  Charlie checked her watch. “April twenty-eighth,” she said. Charlie's watch can tell time around the world. It tells the date, too.

  “April twenty-eighth,” the Great One said. “I knew it!”

  “Knew what?” I said.

  “It's Fluzzy's birthday!”

  “We don't know when Fluzzy was born,” I reminded her.

  “But April twenty-eighth is the day we found him,” she said. “Exactly one year ago. Charlie was babysitting that night too. And it was pouring down rain just like now.” Bang! Another clap of thunder. The Great One stuck the cotton back in her ear. Then

  she called, “Uno.” I knew she would win. She always wins.

  “We should have a party f
or Fluzzy,” she said.

  “Should we make hats?” I asked. “First cupcakes,” the Great One said. “Then hats.” She jumped up from the table. “Pointy hats or the other kind?” I asked. “You choose.”

  “Really... I get to choose?” The Great One hardly ever lets me choose.

  Charlie followed the Great One. “I'm not much of a baker,” she said.

  “Don't worry,” the Great One said. “I know how to bake cupcakes.”

  The Great One stood on a step stool at the kitchen counter and lined up everything she needed for the cupcakes.

  “I only eat white cupcakes,” I reminded her. “With white frosting on top.”

  “You think I don't know that?” she said.

  “I thought maybe you forgot.”

  “Well, I didn't.”

  “Okay.” Then I got an idea. I'd make place mats for the party. I know how to make place mats because we made them at school for restaurant day. So I got some paper and markers. I started making a picture of a dark and stormy night. I put lightning in the sky. Next I drew a small cat. He was lost and scared and wet. “Remember how we heard Fluzzy meowing outside the kitchen door?” I asked.

  “I heard him first,” the Great One said. “And I ran to the kitchen door.”

  “No, you didn't! I ran to the kitchen door.”

  “You followed me,” the Great One said.

  “No, you followed me!”

  Charlie said, “I think all three of us got there at the same time.”

  “But I saw him first!” the Great One said. “He was so wet and ...”

  “. . . he was shaking,” I added.

  “I hate when you finish my sentences,” the Great One said.

  “Abigail,” Charlie said. “Are you paying attention to the recipe?”

  “Yes,” the Great One said.

  The thunder was moving away now, but it was still raining. I made another place mat. This time I drew Mom and Dad when they saw Fluzzy for the first time. Only he wasn't Fluzzy then. He was

  The lost cat.

  Friend or Fiend?

  One Year Ago

  When Mom and Dad got home that night they were really surprised to see a cat slurping milk from a saucer. “What's this?” Mom asked.

  “This is Fluffy!” the Great One said.

  “No, it's Fuzzy!” I said. “We saved him from the storm.”

  “But who does he belong to?” Mom asked.

  [Image: Fluffy and Fuzzy]

  “He belongs to us now,” the Great One sang.

  We begged Mom and Dad to let us keep him.

  But Mom said, “First we'll have to find out if his owner is looking for him.”

  And Dad said, “In the morning we'll call the animal shelter.”

  “And we'll put an ad in the paper,” Mom added.

  “Why?” the Great One asked.

  “Because that's the right thing to do,” Dad said. “If you lost your pet, you'd want the person who found him to return him to you, wouldn't you?”

  “I'd never let my pet get lost,” she said.

  We made him a bed with some old towels. He curled up, yawned, and closed his eyes.

  “Good night, Fluffy,” the Great One said. “Good night, Fuzzy,” I said. The two of us went upstairs to get ready for bed.

  “His name is Fluffy,” the Great One said as we brushed our teeth.

  “No, it's Fuzzy I” I argued. My mouth was full of toothpaste.

  “Fluffy!”

  “Fuzzy!”

  We both dribbled toothpaste down our chins.

  Three days went by. No one knew anything about a lost cat. Not the police. Not the an-imal shelter. Not the newspaper. Nobody put up a LOST CAT sign with a picture. So we took him to the vet.

  The vet told us he was healthy and not even a year old. “What's his name?” she asked.

  “Fuzzy,” I answered.

  “No, it's Fluffy!” the Great One said.

  That night Fuzzy was curled up on Mom's lap, purring. She said, “If we're keeping him, it's time to decide on a name.”

  “I have decided,” the Great One said. “It's Fluffy.”

  “I've decided too,” I said. “And it's Fuzzy!”

  Dad said, “He needs one name. So how about a combination of Fluffy and Fuzzy?”

  “You mean like Fuffy7.” the Great One said. “No cat wants to be called Fuffy”

  “No cat wants to be called Zuffy, either,” I said.

  And then all four of us started throwing out combinations. “Yuzzy?” “Luffy?” “Uzzy?” “Zyuff? ”Fyzu?"

  “Fyzu,” Dad said. “I kind of like that one.”

  “Daaad ...” the Great One said, shaking her head. I shook mine, too. No way were we calling our cat Fyzu. Instead, the Great One started to say, “It has to be Fl . . .”

  And I finished with “... uzzy” We

  looked at each other and laughed. Then we high-fived to seal the deal.

  And that's how Fluzzy got his name.

  Friend or Fiend?

  Unicorn

  Everything was ready for Fluzzy's party. When the storm ended Fluzzy came back to the kitchen. The Pain said, “Guess what, Fluzz? You're having a party!”

  “Don't tell him!” I called. “You'll spoil the surprise.”

  “You think he knows what party means?” the Pain asked.

  “Stop ...” I said, “before you ruin everything.”

  “When do we put on his par ...” the Pain started to say. Then he stopped and started again. This time he spelled it out. “When do we put his h-a-t on him?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” I said.

  When we heard the front door open Charlie grabbed her backpack and umbrella. “Wish I could stay for the you-know-what” she said. “But I have a class at the college tonight.”

  As Mom and Dad came into the kitchen I yelled, “Surprise!”

  “Are we celebrating something?” Dad asked Mom. “Did I forget our anniversary?”

  Mom laughed. “Our anniversary is in June.”

  “Then what?” Dad said.

  “We're celebrating Fluzzy's birthday!” The Pain danced around like he always does when he's excited. "He came to live

  with us one year ago. April twenty-eighth. Remember?"

  “It was my idea,” I told Mom and Dad. “I'm the one who remembered.”

  “What a good memory you have, Abigail,” Mom said.

  “I have a good memory too,” the Pain said.

  “But not as good as mine,” I argued. “I have the best memory in the family. Just ask Grandma. She's always saying so.”

  “I remember that night,” Dad said. “It was raining even harder than tonight.”

  I cooed at Fluzzy. “And you were just a lost wet kitty, weren't you?” Fluzzy meowed. I handed party hats to Mom and Dad. They put them on. I tried to get Fluzzy to wear his, too. But he kept shaking it off, then biting it. “Stop that, Fluzzy,” I said.

  The Pain laughed.

  Dad got his camera. After a couple of pictures, Mom started sniffing. “Is something in the oven?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. ...” I ran for the oven, with Mom right behind me. She grabbed the pot holders and lifted out the tray of cupcakes. But it was too late. “They're ruined!” I cried.

  Mom tried scraping off the burned part, but nothing helped. What was left of them

  was hard as wood. “It's all Jake's fault!” I said, then burst into tears.

  “My fault?” the Pain said. “What did I do?”

  “He kept distracting me.” I could hardly get the words out, I was crying so hard.

  “That's why I forgot to set the timer. And Charlie doesn't even know how to bake! I had to do everything myself.”

  “Oh, honey .. .” Mom hugged me. “You must be so disappointed.”

  “I am. I had it all planned. We were supposed to have ice cream with our cupcakes.” I caught the Pain watching me. “Stop staring at me!” I told him.

  “I'm not staring.”
/>
  “Yes, you are!”

  “Who'd want to stare at you?”

  “We can still have ice cream,” Dad said. He opened the freezer and lined up the flavors. “What kind for you, Jake?”

  “Why bother to ask him when you already know the answer?” I was sniffling now.

  “Abigail. . .” Dad began.

  “I'll have vanilla,” the Pain told Dad. “The white kind, not the yellow. In a dish, not a cone.”

  “How unusual,” I said.

  Dad took a deep breath. “Abigail. . .” he said again.

  “Oh, that's right,” I said. “The little baby can't have a cone because it's not white!”

  This time Dad said, “Abigail... we're all sorry about the cupcakes. But remember what we said about being sarcastic?”

  Sarcastic is the same as talking fresh. We're not supposed to talk to each other that way because we're a family. The Pain is never fresh in front of Mom or Dad. When he feels like dissing me he does it in private. Then he says Ha ha! I hate hate hate when he says Ha ha!

  Dad handed the Pain a dish of ice cream.

  “You're making him into such a baby,” I said.

  “I'm not a baby!” he shouted.

  “Baby is as baby does!” I shouted back. He hates when I call him a baby.

  “Abigail, stop this right now,” Dad said.

  “Why can't he just eat like everyone else?” I asked.

  “He will when he's ready,” Mom said.

  “When will that be? When he's twenty-five? I'll bet he wouldn't have a clue if you blindfolded him and fed him different foods. I'll bet he wouldn't be able to tell what color food he was eating then.”

  “Bet I could!” he said.

  “Okay . .. let's do an experiment,” I said. “My science teacher says we should always be looking for experiments we can do at home.”

  Dad said, “That would be an interesting experiment, but Jake would have to agree.”

  “I don't agree,” he said. “I'm never going to agree!”

  “You spoil him because he's the favorite,” I cried. “It's disgusting!”

  “Oh, honey . . .” Mom said, hugging me again. “You know that's not true. You know we don't have favorites.”

  “That's what you say, but I can tell you love him best.” I felt myself choking up again.