Free Claws! by R. L. Stine Page B

red-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt and white tennis shorts.
    “We came home a few days early —” he said. But then his mouth dropped open. His eyes blinked behind his round eyeglasses. “What’s going
on
in here?” he cried.
    “Where did these cats come from? Where is Bella?” Mrs. Caplan demanded in her booming voice.
    I pointed. Bella had crawled under the couch. She was hissing at the other cats.
    Mr. Caplan bent down and picked Bella up. He soothed her, holding her tightly against his chest.
    The other cats grew quiet. They stopped prowling and gazed up at the Caplans.
    “How did they get in here?” Mrs. Caplan demanded.
    “I … have to tell you the whole story,” I said. “Amanda and I … well … we’re really sorry.”
    “Sorry?” she asked.
    “We left the front door open,” Amanda said. “Bella ran out and got run over by a truck. So … I got this great idea that didn’t turn out so great.”
    “We went to that pet store, Cat Heaven,” I said. “And we brought home this substitute cat. We—we thought maybe we could fool you into thinking it was the real Bella.”
    “We know it was a terrible thing to do,” Amanda said.
    “And we’re so—so sorry,” I said again. “We messed up. It’s totally our fault.”
    Mrs. Caplan put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, Mickey,” she said. “We should have told you the truth.”
    I squinted at her. “The truth?”
    She nodded. “Yes. Bella was a dead cat from the beginning. Bella died four years ago.”

32
    The Caplans shooed the scraggly cats out of the way. They sat down on the couch. Mr. Caplan still held Bella in his arms.
    Amanda and I stood awkwardly in the center of the room. We waited for them to explain.
    “I’ll make this short and sweet,” Mr. Caplan said, petting Bella. “Four years ago, Bella ran out of the house and was run over by a truck. But we couldn’t bear to part with her. Then someone told us about the place where cats who die violent deaths go—Cat Heaven.”
    Amanda and I both gasped. “It isn’t a store?” I said. “It
really
is cat heaven?”
    “The cats in front are live cats,” Mr. Caplan said. “But the cats in the back room are dead. They appear alive in every way. You bring them home, and they are fine. The problem is, if they get out of the house, they reenact their violent death.”
    I stared hard at him. “You mean —”
    “Bella ran out of the house three times before,” Mrs. Caplan said, shaking her head sadly. “Each time, she was run over by a truck. Then we had to go back to Cat Heaven to bring her home again.”
    “But what are these other cats?” Mr. Caplan demanded. “Are they dead, too? What are they doing here?”
    “I—I think they escaped when I stole Bella,” I stammered. “I grabbed Bella and ran out the back door. I knocked cages over. These cats must have escaped, too. They followed me. They’ve been
haunting
me!”
    “Oh, wow.” Mr. Caplan shook his head. “That’s bad, Mickey. That’s really bad.”
    “Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” Mrs. Caplan’s face had gone pale. Her chin trembled. “Don’t you realize you’ve
ruined your life?”

33
    I stared at her. I couldn’t speak. I wanted to ask her why she said that. But I couldn’t find any words.
    Mr. Caplan sat petting Bella. He kept his eyes on the cat. He didn’t look at me.
    The other cats padded closer to me. They watched me, as if they expected something from me. A gray cat with half its tail missing brushed against my leg.
    “You can’t just walk in and take a dead cat from the back room at Cat Heaven,” Mrs. Caplan explained finally. “Only the cat’s
true owner
can carry it out of the store. Only a cat’s true owner can claim it.”
    “If the dead cat is taken out by the wrong owner, it will become evil,” Mr. Caplan said, shaking his head. “Bella is gentle now. But she will become angry and wildly, fiercely evil.”
    “I—I know,” I muttered.
    “We had a lot of