Free Wild Cat by Dandi Daley Mackall Page B

do-gooder project or a service or something.” She waves at a guy I don’t recognize. He waves back.
    Behind us, Alex and Michael are getting pretty loud. Alex scoots up and asks, “Hey, Katharine. You still like being called Kat?”
    I nod. I’m too surprised he’s talking to me, and not Fiona, to say anything.
    “Are you still running that animal rescue out in the country?” he asks.
    “Yep.” This is crazy. I’ve never had trouble talking to Alex before. Last year in youth group we were partners for a scavenger hunt. I puked halfway through the hunt. We lost.
    “How’d you like another cat?” Alex asks.
    “ I would. I always want another cat. But I promised I wouldn’t take on any more until I find homes for the ones we have.”
    What I don’t tell him is that I know Mom made this rule because I’ve been sick so much I haven’t kept up my end of the work, even with the cats, especially the barn cats. Dakota has had to cover for me. That’s why I didn’t try to fight the ruling. I hate making extra work for anybody.
    “Too bad,” Alex says.
    “Why?”
    “We’ve got the stupidest cat in the whole world. My mom’s going to make me get rid of it if it doesn’t come around.”
    “No way,” Fiona says. “ I’ve got the stupidest cat in the world.”
    “I’m serious,” Alex insists. “This cat, Bozo—he isn’t normal, even for a cat. He pukes all over the furniture. Mom’s convinced he does it on purpose.”
    “He wouldn’t do it on purpose,” I assure him. “What do you feed Bozo?”
    “I don’t know. Milk. He likes eggs.”
    “Well, there you go,” I say. “Cats like a lot of things that aren’t good for them.”
    “Just like us girls,” Fiona chimes in.
    “Milk’s not good for a cat?” Alex asks.
    I shake my head. “Milk can make a lot of cats sick. Try not giving Bozo milk or eggs. I’ll bet he stops puking on the furniture.”
    “That’s great, Kat,” Alex says. “But Bozo’s got worse problems than that. Like, he licks us all the time.” He shudders. “Gives me the creeps.”
    “Eew,” Fiona says, shuddering too.
    “You should be flattered, Alex,” I assure him. “Do you ever watch cats together? Our barn cats won’t let anybody near them except for me. But they lick each other all the time. It’s part grooming and part bonding. That’s why they lick people, too.”
    “So Alex’s cat thinks he needs to be groomed?” Fiona says, giggling.
    “More like his cat really likes him.”
    “Well, our cat hates us,” Fiona says.
    “Are you talking about the cat you think is dumber than my cat?” Alex asks.
    “Oh, she’s dumber all right. I guarantee it.” Fiona tugs a strand of her hair. “Mom and I picked out this cat for my little sister for her birthday. It was the prettiest cat in the pet store—long white hair and big blue eyes. That’s why we got it.”
    “So what’s wrong with her?” Alex asks.
    “She won’t listen. She’s too stupid to get out of the way of the car. Dad almost ran over the thing twice. Oh, and she gets lost. What kind of a cat gets lost when it goes outside? And we have to carry her to her food dish. She never comes when we call her. We phoned the pet store and complained. The guy finally admitted the cat’s already been returned twice! They won’t take her back again.”
    “There’s got to be a reason your cat acts like that,” I suggest.
    “Yeah,” Fiona says. “There is. She’s dumb as dirt. I’ll bet even Catman couldn’t help this cat.”
    “You know Catman?” I can’t imagine Fiona and Catman together. I’m not sure why that is.
    “I’ve never met him. But I know he’s Hank’s cousin, and he’s supposed to be great with cats.” A big smile passes over her face. “So how is Hank, anyway?”
    “Fine, I think.” I glance at the clock and know we’re running out of time. I don’t have time to talk about Hank. And I shouldn’t be using up time talking about cats either. But I worry when people