by Nic Saint
“You think so?” asked Estrella. “Maybe we should go look.”
“Even if we find it, we’ll never be able to read it,” I said. “She’ll have made sure the pages all look blank to us.”
“She’s devious,” Estrella said.
“She’s looking out for us. She just doesn’t want us to get hurt.”
We’d performed a few dangerous spells in the past, and had even managed to expose ourselves on national television as witches. Even the president of the United States had seen us perform witchcraft. It wasn’t a good position to be in, with so many warlocks and demons out there. So Gran had simply done a huge memory wipe, and had managed to remove every single trace of what we’d done from the recollection of the entire world. It must have been one of the biggest feats of witchcraft ever performed, but it had obviously worked. Nobody knew who we were, and nobody remembered a thing. Gran had probably saved all of our lives.
“Look, I think we simply have to put this whole witchy thing behind us once and for all,” I said. “We’re flower girls now, and singers,” I added in deference to Estrella, who took a slight bow.
“And don’t forget members of Haymill’s very first neighborhood witch committee,” said Estrella with a giggle. “Though it would be a lot easier if we still had access to our witchy powers,” she added, sobering.
“Well, we don’t,” I said, “so there’s no use looking back. That part of our lives is over. Now it’s time to move on and look to the future.”
Just then, there was a loud meowing sound right outside my window. We all looked up in surprise and I quickly padded over. I opened the curtain and glanced out… to find Snoozles staring back at me, seated on the windowsill.
I opened the window and picked the cat up from the sill. “Look who’s here, you guys.”
“Snoozles!” Estrella cooed, taking the cat from me. “Hey, little cutie.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be with Sam?” Ernestine asked.
“Sam’s mom, actually,” I said. “He must have run away from home again.”
“To be with his mommy,” said Estrella, cuddling the cat. “That’s so sweet!”
I sat cross-legged on my bed and eyed the black kitty thoughtfully. “If only he could talk,” I said. “Maybe he could tell us what really happened to Mrs. Peach.”
“She died,” suddenly a soft voice spoke.
We all looked around, startled, to find out where the voice had come from.
“Yes, it’s me,” the voice sounded when I focused on the cat.
“It’s… you?” I asked. “But that’s not possible.”
Estrella had put the cat down on the bed and he now sat casually licking his hind paw. “I know it’s not possible, but here I am, talking, and here you all are, listening.”
“Is Snoozles… talking?” asked Estrella.
“I think so,” Ernestine confirmed.
“Hey, you guys,” Estrella cried excitedly. “Maybe Gran didn’t take away all of our witchy powers. Maybe this is one power she decided to let us keep!”
“I didn’t even know we had this power,” said Ernestine.
“Me neither,” I said. “Though now that we know, we should probably use it before it goes away again. Snoozles, honey, do you know what happened to Mrs. Peach?”
“I hear she died,” Snoozles said, his little lips barely moving. “Though I have no idea how or why. One day she was there, giving me food and cuddles, and the next she was gone, and I was handed from human to human until I ended up with this woman I’ve never seen, and this big guy who’s her son.”
“The big guy is Sam Barkley,” I said. “He’s the cop trying to figure out what happened to your human. And the woman is his mother. They’re going to be taking care of you from now on.”
“Oh, is that what that was,” said Snoozles. “They kinda had me confused there for a second. That’s why I decided to come back. I just figured I’d been catnapped or something.”
“So you have no clue what happened, huh,” said Estrella, sounding disappointed.
“Your guess is as good as mine, toots.”
“As far as we know someone Mrs. Peach wasn’t nice to did this to her,” I said. “One of her neighbors, maybe, or some other person she crossed.”
“I’m sorry to have to say this, little buddy,” said Ernestine, “but your human wasn’t a very nice person. She angered a lot of people. Like… a lot.”
“I know,” said the cat, quite surprisingly.
“You do?” I asked.
“Yeah. She turned those naked men into blue men, and she destroyed the pale skinny lady’s lettuce, and she did a whole lot of other stuff to a whole lot of other people. Hey, cats talk, you know. In fact we blab a lot. So whatever happens, sooner or later we find out about it. But even though she wasn’t nice to other humans, she was always super nice to me. She loved me.” He lifted his tiny shoulders in a shrug. “And I guess I loved her back.”
Estrella nodded, and I could see tears glistening in her eyes. “That’s so sweet,” she said huskily. “Oh, sweet Snoozles.”
She tried to grab the cat but Snoozles expertly ducked through her arms. “I believe you, toots,” he said, clearly not too keen on being squished to within an inch of his life. “And now if could point me in the right direction, I’ll be off. If this woman is to be my new human, I better get acquainted.”
I placed Snoozles back on the windowsill, and watched him deftly hop to the roof, then onto the small canopy over the porch, and drop down to the ground.
He turned when he reached the first streetlight. “Thanks, toots,” he said with a wave of his tail. “See you around.”
“Ask your friends what happened to Mrs. Peach!” I yelled.
“Will do!”
And then he was gone, swallowed up by the night.
What a cat. And what a witchy skill to possess. I had the feeling it just might come in handy down the road.
Chapter 22
I woke up from some heavy purring sound nearby and a heavy sensation on my chest. I opened one eye and saw that Snoozles had returned sometime during the night and was now sleeping on my chest. Apparently he wasn’t yet ready to go and live with his new human, and had decided to stick around. I pushed myself up on my elbows and saw that Ernestine was sleeping to my right, and when I looked left found myself looking at Estrella’s feet. As usual she was sleeping upside down. It was a habit she’d gotten into lately and she was clearly sticking with it.
I carefully dislodged Snoozles and climbed over Strel’s feet to clamber out of bed. Loud voices sounded from the corridor and I groaned in dismay. Good thing Father Reilly was leaving today, and so were my cousins. I just hoped that our next houseguests would be a little less noisy than this batch. Then again, there was no way anyone could be noisier than Barnum, who had probably attacked Father Reilly again, maybe this time convinced he was an alien and going all Will Smith on him.
Snoozles woke up and yawned.
“What are we going to do with you, huh, little buddy?” I asked.
Ernestine had also opened her eyes and was staring a little dazedly at the cat. “Didn’t he leave last night? Didn’t we watch him go? Or was that just a dream?”
“No, that was real,” I said. “He did leave. And then he came back.”
“I talked to some of my buds,” said Snoozles, and Ernestine and I shared a look. This was just so unreal. “None of them knows anything about what happened to Mrs. Peach. And since I was kinda tired, and I didn’t feel like walking all the way over to this new human I’m supposed to get all cozy with, I returned here. That all right with you lovely babes?”
“Sure,” I said. “Though Gran won’t like it. She doesn’t like cats,” I explained when he arched a whisker.
“In fact, now that I come to think of it, is it all right if I stick around a while longer? I mean, until you guys have figured out who offed my human? It’s a closure thing,” he added, almost sounding like a human.
“Um…�
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“If Gran finds out she’ll kick him out,” said Ernestine. “And us, too.”
“Look, I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” the cat said.
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “We’ll just have to hide you in my room. And you’ll have to come and go through the window.”
“No biggie,” he said. “Just leave it open a crack and I’ll find my way. So this Gran of yours is something of a ball-buster, huh?”
“No, she’s actually the sweetest person in the world,” said Ernestine. “She just feels that cats have no place in her flower beds. They poop and dig around and she just hates it.”
Snoozles raised his paw. “Gah. Tell me about it. That skinny lady next door? I pooped in her lettuce once or twice and she didn’t appreciate the donation of free manure. Made a whole spiel about it to my human.”
“Yes, we know,” I said. “And then she donated a bunch of beetles.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Peach was hardcore,” said the cat with a slight chuckle. When he saw we didn’t think it was funny, he said, “Hey, look, I know she was a tough broad, and she upset a lot of people by doing a lot of upsetting stuff, but she can’t have been all bad. She took very good care of me, so there’s that to take into consideration.”
“Just promise me you’ll make sure Gran doesn’t find out about you, all right?” I asked, not wanting to get into a discussion about Mrs. Peach.
“Sure thing, toots. And as soon as you catch that killer, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“We’ll have to tell Sam that his cat is here,” I told Ernestine.
Something stirred at the foot of my bed, and Estrella’s tousled blond head appeared. “What’s going on? What’s all the fuss about?”
“Snoozles came back,” I told her. “He doesn’t want to leave the neighborhood until we catch his human’s killer.”
Estrella wiped the sleep from her eyes and darted a look at Snoozles, who sat casually licking his paw and rubbing it across his snout.
“Oh, hi, Snoozles. Couldn’t miss us, huh?”
“I can miss you just fine, toots,” said Snoozles. “But I hate to leave unfinished business. I owe a debt of gratitude to Mrs. Peach, and it just don’t seem fair to hop in bed with a new human without catching her killer first.”
“And here I thought you cats were the most selfish species,” I said with a smile.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about cats,” said Snoozles.
“Since we never had a cat, I guess you’re right,” said Ernestine.
“Well, now you’ve got me, so you better get used to it,” he said, gracefully jumping from the bed. “So what’s for breakfast?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What do cats eat?”
“Grass,” said Estrella knowingly. “Animals eat grass.”
“Yuck,” Snoozles said. “Are you nuts? Who eats grass?”
“Cows eat grass,” said Ernestine with a disapproving look at Estrella. “Cats are carnivores, though, so they require meat. Keeps them healthy.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about, toots-with-glasses,” said Snoozles. “Nice piece of chicken, fish fillet, bit of turkey… and I’m quite partial to scrambled eggs with snippets of ham. Oh, and don’t forget some of that Kit & Kaboodle stuff. And maybe some Meow Mix Tender Favorites, too. And no plastic bowls, please. That crap’ll give you cancer. Glass bowls only. And no tap water unless it’s filtered. I might be willing to settle for bottled water, but only if it’s from a glass bottle. Thanks a bunch.”
At this, he put down his head on his paws and promptly dozed off.
At the breakfast table, the mood was festive. Father Reilly said he was planning to enjoy his final day by spending it visiting New York and taking in some of the sights he’d missed for so long. Barnum seemed eager to return to Long Island, where he could dig trenches against the Germans and perform exorcisms and drive stakes through vampires’ hearts as much as he wanted to and didn’t have to listen to a bunch of annoying adults telling him to stop. And Bancroft and Busby were looking forward to picking up their respective jobs at the beauty parlor and the fitness club.
“I heard you’re on the waiting list for a room at the retirement home for priests?” I asked Father Reilly.
The priest looked surprised. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“We had a chat with an old friend of yours yesterday,” I said. “Mr. McClafferty? He told us.”
The priest smiled. “I’m very lucky to have secured a place at the Cardinal Cosh Center. A lot of my colleagues will be there, and a lot of old friends. I think I will enjoy spending the twilight years of my life in such a wonderful environment.”
“So when do you get admitted?” asked Ernestine.
“November at the earliest, December at the latest.”
“Oh, dear,” said Gran. “Where will you stay until then? I mean, you’re quite welcome to stay here, Father. In fact you can stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you, Cassie, but I’ll spend these few remaining months with my sister. She lives in Newport. She’s already made arrangements and she’s expecting me tomorrow.”
“It’ll be nice to spend the summer there,” said Gran.
“Yes, I’m actually looking forward to spending some time with my dear sister and her husband. Not that I didn’t enjoy your hospitality,” he quickly added. “I did and I do.” He cast a quick glance at Barnum, who was smearing Nutella on his face. It was obvious his appreciation didn’t extend to the little pest.
“Is it true your Christian name is Kermit, Father?” asked Estrella.
The priest smiled. “I see your talk with Orlando was fruitful. Yes, my full name is Kermit Reilly. And if you think I was named after a certain well-known stuffed frog, you are sorely mistaken. I was born long before Mr. Henson started his illustrious career.”
“Who’s Mr. Henson?” Estrella asked, confused.
“Jim Henson. Creator of The Muppet Show and father of Kermit the Frog and other timeless characters,” Ernestine provided between two nibbles from her cheese sandwich.
Barnum had stopped smearing his face with Nutella and was staring at the priest, eyes wide. “You’re Kermit?” he asked excitedly.
The priest smiled a little hesitantly. “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”
“So you’re the real Kermit?”
“That’s right. Though I can assure you that I have nothing in common with—”
But Barnum had stopped listening. He’d risen from the table and approached the priest reverently. “I love Kermit,” he said. “He’s my favorite Muppet. I love Fozzy Bear, too. And Gonzo, and Swedish Chef, and Miss Piggy.” Suddenly he uttered a loud, “Hi-yaaaa!” and kicked the priest in the shin.
“Ouch!” the priest yelped, reaching for the injured spot.
“Ha ha!” Barnum laughed.
“Barnum!” Gran snapped. “Stop it!”
“But he loves it!” Barnum said. “Kermit loves it when Miss Piggy hits him.” And to demonstrate his love for the priest, he hauled off and hit him in the buttock with his fist, shouting, “Meet my left fist, bozo!” and followed up with another karate chop, this time to the groin. “Hi-yaaa!” he screamed.
“Barnum!” Gran bellowed. “Stop it at once!”
Barnum frowned at her. “You don’t get it, Auntie Cassie. He loves it!”
We all looked at the priest, who sat grimacing, his hand covering the offended body part. He didn’t appear to love it as much as Barnum claimed. Instead, he was glowering at my cousin with a look that would have made several of his more peace-loving parishioners frown. And he certainly didn’t appear willing to offer the other buttock, like the good Lord prescribed.
“Go to your room,” Gran said. “Now!”
“But it’s Kermit! He wants to play!”
“To your room! Right this instance!”
Barnum slunk off. “I can never have any fun around here,” he muttered darkly, and kicked the door on his way out.
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br /> “I’m so sorry about my cousin’s behavior, Father,” said Gran. “I promise it will never happen again.”
“Boys will be boys,” said the priest without much conviction.
Meanwhile, Busby and Bancroft had trouble controlling their mirth, as they sat shaking with laughter. Apparently the entire scene had played on their funny bone.
“It’s all that sugar,” said Ernestine wisely. “It makes him hyperactive. You should really watch his sugar intake.”
Gran heaved a sigh. “In my day we would eat bacon and eggs and toast for breakfast. Or plain old-fashioned porridge. None of this high-fructose corn syrup junk that will rot your teeth and destroy your brain.”
She flicked her wrist and suddenly the big pot of Nutella that Barnum had been snacking on vanished into thin air, as did the big jug of fruit juice, the box of Froot Loops, and the can of Coke Bancroft was drinking from.
She must have realized what she’d done, for she suddenly looked slightly startled. “Oh, my,” she said, quickly glancing around. “Oh, dear.”
Kermit Reilly, who’d just dipped his knife into the Nutella pot, seemed surprised, his twin chins quivering slightly as he stared down at his knife, now poking the table. Bancroft’s eyes had gone wide in shock, and Busby, who’d been glugging down fruit juice from the jug, halted in mid-glug, and said, “Huh?”
“Oh, dear me,” Gran murmured as she caught my look of disbelief. “I seem to have made a boo-boo.” Then she pulled herself together, and flicked her wrist again. “Well, I’ll just have to set it straight, won’t I?”
And before our very eyes, the Nutella returned, as did the jug of juice, the can of Coke and the cereal. Only problem was that Bancroft had tipped his hand too far back, and Coke now poured from the can, dousing his face. Busby faced the same problem, only his was exacerbated by the fact that there was an entire gallon of juice waiting to spill onto his face. Which it did.
“Hey!” he cried as he was suddenly awash with OJ, liberally splashing all over his face and the front of his shirt.
