Free Storm Rescue by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

voice as calm and soothing as I can as I climb in through the window. It feels good to stand on something solid again. “Don’t worry, Lucy. It’s me, Sunita. I want to get you out of here.”
    The cat crouches down, her eyes trained on my face. The tip of her tail switches back and forth. I can tell she’s still nervous and trying to decide what to do. Maybe she doesn’t recognize me with wet, stringy hair.
    I look around for the cat carriers Mrs. Clark mentioned yesterday. Even though it’s the middle of the day, it’s dark in the attic. The power is out, and only a little grayish daylight comes in through the window. But I soon spot not one, but two hard plastic cat carriers stacked neatly by the wall. Remembering Mittens’ hiding place at home, I grab the smaller of the two. Maybe being in a small place will help Lucy feel more secure.
    Lucy jumps when I pick up the carrier. She turns and races off, moving surprisingly fast despite her splint. She disappears behind some cardboard boxes.
    Shoot, Sunita. You know Lucy always runs as soon as a carrier comes into sight!
    â€œLucy!” I exclaim. “Come on, girl! I’m here to help you.”
    I wish we were all safe and sound, back on dry land again. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to calm down. I have to be patient.
    Crouching down beside the cat carrier, I carefully swing the door open, trying not to make any scary noises. “It’s okay, baby,” I croon, watching the spot where Lucy disappeared. “I know all that water out there is scary. I don’t like it any more than you do, believe me. But I couldn’t just leave you here by yourself. I’m here to help you. Now you need to help me by being a good kitty and letting me get you out of here.”
    I keep talking, saying whatever comes into my head. Finally I see her nose poke out from behind the boxes. She stares at me, her whiskers twitching.
    Still talking softly, I ease forward inch by inch. Lucy watches me nervously, but she doesn’t move.
    â€œCome on, sweetie,” I croon, holding out my hand. “Come here, Lucy girl.”
    Lucy crouches lower, looking suspicious. I’m afraid she’s going to dart away and hide somewhere among the boxes and old suitcase in the attic.
    â€œListen,” I whisper to her. “I’m scared of water. You’re scared of water. But I’m here now, and I really want to get you out of this place before the water gets in. Believe me, you’ll be glad when we’re both back on dry land.” I clear my throat, trying not to think about the floodwaters swirling around the house. “I’ll be glad, too.”
    Lucy seems to be listening to me. Her large, dark ears are pricked toward me, and she doesn’t back away as I continue to inch forward.
    Finally I’m closer enough to reach out and grab her gently by the scruff of the neck. I wouldn’t normally pick up an adult cat that way, but since I can use only one hand. I figure it’s safer than trying to grab her any other way—especially with her broken leg.
    Lucy struggles, but I hold on tightly, lifting her carefully with my other hand supporting most of her weight. She gives me a few scratches with her claws, but I hardly notice. Soon she’s safely locked in the cat carrier.
    â€œWhew!” I say. “Now what do you say we get out of here, okay?”
    I blink, wondering exactly how we’re going to do that. How am I supposed to get the cat carrier back out to the canoe?
    Then I realize the answer. I pick up the carrier and carry it to the window. David and Maggie are watching from the canoe. I give them a thumbs-up to let them know I have Lucy. Then I swing up onto the windowsill before reaching back into the attic for the carrier.
    When David sees me lowering the cat carrier toward the water, he shouts out in alarm. “What are you doing?” he cries. “She’ll