The Great Cat Caper

by Lauraine Snelling

  © 2012 by Lauraine Snelling & Kathleen Damp Wright

  Print ISBN 978-1-61626-566-3

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62029-102-3

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62029-103-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Illustration: Jamey Christoph/lindgrensmith.com

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Dickinson Press, Inc., Grand Rapids, MI 49512; August 2012; D10003469

  Dedication

  Kathleen—

  to my husband, Fred, my Adventure Guy

  Lauraine—

  to Chelley and Gina of Have a Heart Humane Society in my hometown who have saved the lives of hundreds of cats and kittens.

  My hat is off to animal rescuers of all kinds.

  Acknowledgments

  Kathleen—

  Thanks to: Rhonda at Second Chance for Homeless Pets in Salt Lake for letting me experience the joy of cat-ness and ask a jillion questions. The Wang family for whisker instruction. Jane Owen, a fabulous friend and writer who laughed in all the right places and marked up some that needed to be better. Mom Kris and daughter Gaby for how accelerated school might work. Natalie for use of her made-up word. No More Homeless Pets of Utah for letting me see the process of trapping community cats.

  Lauraine for her friendship and our continuing adventures.

  Lauraine and Kathleen—

  God, You are our Treasure in every moment.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Beetle!

  And now I want you all to sit somewhere unstructured and think of your own interjection.” The language arts teacher waved her arm, draped in gauzy fabric, and smiled, showing most of her teeth. Vee Nguyen’s slow, answering grin flowed across her face; the woman winked at her. “Put the brains that got you into this accelerated learning center to work!”

  Vee, pleased to be noticed, blushed and looked down. Yes, she and these kids were smarter than the rest of them. She couldn’t wait to tell her new S.A.V.E. Squad friends, Sunny, Aneta, and Esther, that Moby Perkins Elementary School Accelerated Learning Center—or the ALC—was like another planet. The girls—the first letter of each name spelled out “S.A.V.E.”—had agreed to meet at the library today to tell each other everything about the first day of school.

  To beat the others, she darted toward the rolltop desk where Mr. Tuttle, the learning center teacher, sat. Rather than the students leaving the center, teachers came into their learning center. Mr. Tuttle said it was to continue the “synergy” of learning. Vee had made a note in her always-present notebook to look up the word. She crawled under the desk. With the next breath came visions of her twin stepbrothers, the Twin Terrors. Where she sat smelled just like their feet. Only extra-strength grown-up stinky. Eww.

  No matter.

  From her prime spot, she watched the rush for the padded window seats, the couch, and a huge white claw-foot tub loaded with rainbow-colored pillows. The room burst with brightly colored kites hanging from the ceiling and words applied to the wall: WHO WILL YOU BE TODAY? PREPARE. PROPEL. PERPETUATE. The good spots were going fast. Giggles and a couple of grumpy “Hey, I was here first!” floated in the sun-brightened air.

  Better get going with A+ work. This was her spot, this group of smart kids. She’d earned it. What interjection would be better than everyone else’s? Breathing through her mouth like she did when she was around the Twin Terrors, she readied her pen. She grinned, keeping her lips nearly closed, placing her hands on the carpet to get a smidge more comfortable. How cool to make up your own word for—

  “Eww!” she shrieked and shot out from under the desk. The heel of her left hand had crunched something.

  The language arts teacher clapped her hands. “Excellent learning moment here, Vee!” She turned to the class who was—yes. Staring. At. Her. Vee’s face burned with embarrassment. Staring at her after she had the best interjection was okay. But now? No way! The teacher turned back to Vee, looking expectant. “What interjection to show strong feeling or emotion could you use for this intensity, Vee?”

  Dreading what she might find, but needing to know, she slanted a glance down at the “whatever” now stuck to her hand. What interjection? Think, Vee, think. This is life in the ALC. Parts of a beetle, antenna still moving on a separated head, lay there.

  “Beetle!” she yelled, madly shaking her hand. “Beeeeeetle!”

  Nodding to the class to join, the teacher clapped. “Beetle works. Strong consonant beginning conveys strong feeling.”

  Oh—Vee fished around for a better word to describe her humiliation. Okay, beetle. As she stood there feeling like a beetling idiot, the class went back to their papers, most crossing out what they had.

  “You’ve done a great job,” the woman said. “Go ahead and continue the rest of the activity.”

  Yanking her focus from the remains of the bug, Vee plunged in. The loud and smelly stepbrothers could have each other and soccer mania. Her parents and their others could have each other. She had her spot.

  If I survived the beetle incident and fish sticks with marinated vegetables for school lunch, I can survive anything. Now, back in the smart-kid learning center for fifth period math, a tiny, yes, tiniest zizzle buzzed in her stomach along with lunch. The feeling couldn’t be because math was the next class, she argued with herself. She’d worked hard all summer on her math. It had to be lunch. She wrote in the notebook:

  Bring lunch except for pizza day.

  “Okay, nodkins.” Mr. Tuttle folded massive arms across an equally massive chest. “Get out your books. Stay awake in class.” He knit bushy brows. “Ms. Smith and math begins in a minute, and before she does”—Mr. Tuttle looked at the generic wall clock and then down at his clipboard—“I’ll tell you about your service-learning project for the semester.” When he smiled, he looked like a wolf baring its teeth like in Wolf Week on the Everything Animal show. Her gaze fell to his large, clog-covered feet. Eww.

  A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped. Looking up to her left, she saw the guidance counselor. The woman smiled, looking over Vee’s head in Mr. Tuttle’s direction with a
little tip of the head toward the door. I am once again the center of attention the first day of school. Sigh. Mr. Tuttle kept talking as though the counselor wasn’t there and everyone wasn’t staring at Vee. “Service-learning projects help you see that just because you may be the smartest kids in the school, everything is not about you….”

  After they sat down at a small round table in her office, the petite guidance counselor picked up a polka-dotted file folder with Vee’s name on the tab. The counselor opened it and laid it flat on the table between them.

  “Oh, Vee. First thing, you’re not in trouble,” she said, as though she’d forgotten any kid would freak when dragged off to the counselor’s office the first day of school.

  “I know,” Vee said. Although she had wondered. “I’m not a troublemaker. I’m one of the smart kids.”

  “You are,” the woman nodded. “Here’s the situation. We had a computer glitch after all the students took the assessment to get into the Accelerated Learning Center.”

  The zizzle swept up from Vee’s toes. She found she was still clutching the notebook and pen. She set them both down on her lap and unclenched her fingers.

  “The thing is,” the counselor said slowly, leaning forward and looking right into Vee’s dark brown eyes. Her gaze was kind, which let Vee know something terrible was up. “You passed the assessments in language arts, history, and science.”

  Vee counted one, two, three subjects. The counselor hadn’t mentioned … “But, not in—” Vee faltered, her voice sounding breathy like her okay, no problem voice when Dad called to say he wasn’t coming to pick her up like he promised. “Math?”

  The counselor shook her head. “Not in math. It will take me a day to get everything arranged. You can stay in the ALC until then,” the counselor said, patting Vee on the shoulder and smiling. “Don’t think of it as losing something. Think of it as blooming in a different place.”

  Blooming? How could she bloom with her prized spot yanked out from under her?

  This time the list formed in her head:

  Why Smart Kids Cry the First Day of School

  Her throat tightened. After school. The Squad. They were going to tell each other everything.

  Everything?

  No way.

  Chapter 2

  Upset Plans

  There it was, Oakton Community Center. Vee bounced to rearrange the weight of her backpack. Before today it was a good place—where she met the girls who were now her best friends. She sighed. “I just can’t tell them what happened at school today.”

  A squirrel ran in front of her and up a tree, chattering. “I don’t care what you would do,” she said to it. “I’ll just have to think of something.” The bushy-tailed rodent flicked his tail in response and dashed out of sight into the upper boughs.

  “Sure.” Vee brushed her black-as-night bangs out of her eyes. “Desert me when it gets a little tough.” There was no putting it off. Vee’s stride grew longer and longer until she was running, backpack digging into her back with each bounce. She’d probably get cuts in her back that would get infected. She would die. Math will have killed her.

  Regular sixth grade tomorrow. Not what she’d worked so hard for. As she stopped and put her hands on her knees to catch a breath, she looked up. All she had to do was turn the corner. The girls would be waiting on the library steps.

  From behind her, she heard running feet. Two little girls, wearing school uniforms like the ones her friend Aneta wore to school, pounded past.

  “I’m telling Mom first.”

  “No you’re not. I was the one who was chosen, not you.”

  “You get everything first. I’m telling Mom—”

  “Yeah, like it’s all about you. You only talk about yourself….” Their voices faded out of earshot.

  Plan:

  1. Get the girls to tell all about their day.

  2. Before Esther asks …

  3. Check Anti-Trouble Phone and shriek, “I have to get home!”

  4. Go home and talk to Mom and make a list to stay in the ALC.

  “It’ll be stellar.” This cheered her a bit after the dismal day, and she increased her speed. The library steps were empty. Not a problem, she thought, unloading the pack and sitting on the steps. She had a plan:

  Tell Mom

  Regular sixth grade is NOT AN OPTION

  In the next breath, she heard the Squad giggles and conversation before the girls rounded the corner of the community center.

  “You’re kidding,” Sunny’s happy voice bubbled first. Of course. Redheaded Sunny’s hazel eyes were always sparkling about something. She was the coolest homeschooled kid Vee had ever met. “Melissa isn’t at your school this year?”

  What? Scrambling to her feet, Vee pulled on her backpack. That was stupendous news! Melissa Dayton-Snipp had made Aneta’s life miserable at the Cunningham Preparatory Academy where the two attended.

  Blond, blue-eyed Aneta, voice always quiet, her English getting better and better, said, “No! She is living in Europe and going to a horse school.”

  The next voice was Esther’s nasal, high-pitched voice. This time she wasn’t complaining. If there was a Squadder whom Vee still had to get used to, it was the dark blond, chunky Esther. Somehow she and her narrowed, hazel stink eye tied Vee’s nerves in knots. She likes correcting me too much.

  “Yeah, I was sitting right there when the computer teacher pointed to me and said, ‘Esther Martin. You must be the coordinator of the computer room for your grade!’”

  Vee paused.

  “Can you believe the complete yay-ness of it?” It was Sunny again. “I’ve been shooting pics with the digital camera my uncle Dave sent me a couple of weeks ago. My pictures got me in”—a Sunny squeal and Vee could picture her friend spinning around, arms out—“an advanced digital photography course. I’m the only kid in there!”

  Three perfect first days of school. Everybody had their spot. Vee turned and fled.

  Chapter 3

  Prickly Lettuce, Prickly People

  Now what am I going to do? Vee had covered the distance across the parking lot before she knew what her long legs were doing. Home. Just. Get. Home. She pushed off with her right foot to make a sharp left turn and cut through the back of the community center. A few streets to cross, another left turn, and she’d be home. Mom would help her make a plan and this, well, beetling day could be over.

  In another second, she saw C. P. heading toward her, looking at the candy bar in his hand. She veered off course toward the Dumpster in the corner of the parking lot tucked in an untended bunch of trees and bushes just beginning to show a turn of leaf color. Five cats, crouched on the lid of the Dumpster, scattered. Too late, she noted the rotting pear on the ground. Her left foot hit the goo, slid, and she did a split into the bushes, dragging her right knee across the pavement. As her backpack thudded between her shoulders, the wind oooff’d out of her. Face-plant. Right into a bush. Prickly lettuce, a weird weed she’d learned about in earth science last year. Ouch.

  Three facts about prickly lettuce:

  1. You don’t want it in your salad.

  2. It grows just about anywhere in any soil.

  3. It hurts when you face-plant into it.

  Pulling the rest of her through the bushes, she lay there for a moment, panting. Had C. P. seen her? If he had, her life was over. C. P. was way too curious about everything. She held her breath, listening. If he had seen her, she’d hear him pounding toward her on the parking lot cement. She closed her eyes, waiting to hear his scratchy voice. “Hey, whatcha doing down there, Vee? Looking for treasure?” Then he would laugh his hyena laugh. At that point, unbelievably, her day would get worse.

  But C. P. didn’t come. After her heart began pounding in her ears and she knew she’d either have to breathe or pass out, she chose breathing. If C. P. was coming. She sucked in a gasping breath.

  No C. P.

  Safe in a secret spot, behind the protection of the spiny bushes, she curled
up her limbs for a few moments like a fawn then awkwardly pulled herself to a crouched position. She peered out. The Dumpster obscured most of the parking lot, but she had a good view of the library steps where C. P. had joined the S.A.V.E. Squadders.

  They had to go home sometime. She would wait. The cottonwood tree’s rough bark scraped against her spine. She’d learned about that tree last year, too. Moments passed. A stinging sensation began on her right knee and both heels of her hands. An inspection revealed a rash of angry, red, seeping dots of blood. Ick. More than bugs, she didn’t like to see her own blood. She would probably be okay with bugs if it hadn’t been for the addition of the Twin Terrors to her life.

  She fumbled to get her backpack off then froze. The tiniest sound of a breaking branch reached her ear. She whirled. C. P.? She scanned the green-yellow prickly bush behind the tree, near the Dumpster. The five cats had returned to the top of the Dumpster and were sunning themselves.

  Someone was watching her.

  The softest something brushed her. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes. Please don’t let it be something like a caterpillar with creepy antennas and eighty zillion feet. She imagined it creeping nearer to the tender, scratched elbow. Or the shredded knee. Maybe it was a rat. Please, not a rat. A rabid raccoon? That mouthy squirrel?

  The softness spread further over her elbow. The stinging got worse. Then a rough—tongue?

  Tongue?

  Vee opened her eyes and forced herself to look down at her right elbow.

  A bitsy scrap of a kitten was licking the blood off her elbow, squeaking as it did so. It was about two handfuls of gray kitten with black stripes and a black nose smudge. Bugged out eyes and slit-like pupils let her know they had surprised each other. Each kitten ear had a tuft of bedhead-like fur sticking straight up. Vee removed her arm. The kitten hissed and leaped backward, straight-legged.