mustache. He’s totally out of shape. He doesn’t look anything like a gym teacher.
But I was sure glad to hear him out there.
His fists boomed on the door again. “Who locked this? Open up!”
At the sound of his voice, the cats froze. They all stiffened as if frightened. Their glowing eyes dulled until they were dark. The eyes appeared to sink into their sockets.
The cats scrambled off me. They ran with their heads down, scraggly tails trailing behind them. Into the shower room at the back wall.
I sat up. I brushed myself off furiously. Cat fur flew into the air.
I was gasping for breath. Breathing so hard, my chest hurt.
Mr. Weston pounded again on the locker room door. Each blow thundered through the room. “Who is in there? Who locked this?”
I forced myself to my feet. I staggered to the door on trembling legs.
I turned the lock. The door swung open fast. I had to jump back to keep from being hit.
The gym teacher stood staring at me. Several kids were bunched up behind him.
“Mickey?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “What’s going on? You look a mess. What were you doing in here?”
“Cats,” I managed to say in a tiny, weak voice. “The cats —” I pointed to the shower room.
He squinted at me. “Cats?”
I turned and motioned for him to follow me. I led the way to the shower room.
Of course, I knew the cats wouldn’t be there when we looked in.
And they weren’t.
I waited for the other guys in my class to change their clothes. When they ran to the gym to play volleyball, I stepped up to the locker room mirror.
To my surprise, I had only a few scratches.
I pulled a wad of orange cat fur from my hair. It made me shudder. I glanced around the locker room, expecting the hissing cats to return.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Weston gazed down at me. “Mickey, are you coming out for class?”
“I—I don’t think so,” I said. “I … don’t feel too great.”
He nodded. “Well, you can come out and watch,” he said. “Or do you want to see the nurse?”
“The nurse can’t help me,” I muttered.
He nodded again, turned, and walked out of the locker room.
The nurse can’t help me
, I thought.
Who can?
Who can I talk to about my cat problem?
Amanda was the only one who knew about Bella and what we did at Cat Heaven. But even she didn’t believe me when I told her I was being
haunted
by cats.
I knew I had to talk to her. She had to help me. She had to believe me.
The afternoon dragged and dragged. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion.
Miss Harris started the Civil War again. I tried to take notes, but I just couldn’t think straight.
Every noise made me jump. Every high voice or cry or laugh in the classroom made me think the cats were back.
I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t stop shaking my legs and tapping the desktop with both hands. I kept alert, gazing under chairs and desks, looking for cats. I expected a cat to attack me any moment.
I’d never been so stressed and jumpy in my life.
When the bell rang, I left my books and backpack and ran across the room to Amanda. “We—we need to talk,” I said breathlessly. “About the cat.”
“Not now,” she said. She turned away and began to stuff things into her backpack. Then she began to paw through her big canvas bag. “Where did I put my bus pass?”
“Bus pass? Where are you going?” I cried. “I’m desperate. I have to talk to you.”
She made a face at me. “You know I have my flute lesson today.”
“Skip it,” I said.
“I can’t skip it,” she insisted, pulling out the bus pass. “Our recital is Sunday, and I’ve got to practice. Bach is really hard, you know.”
“I don’t know about Bach,” I said. “I only know I’m being haunted. I think—I think we have to take Bella back to Cat Heaven.”
“No way!” Amanda said, pushing me away. “Later, okay? Save your ghost stories for tonight. You’re going to make me late.”
She tossed both bags over her
But I was sure glad to hear him out there.
His fists boomed on the door again. “Who locked this? Open up!”
At the sound of his voice, the cats froze. They all stiffened as if frightened. Their glowing eyes dulled until they were dark. The eyes appeared to sink into their sockets.
The cats scrambled off me. They ran with their heads down, scraggly tails trailing behind them. Into the shower room at the back wall.
I sat up. I brushed myself off furiously. Cat fur flew into the air.
I was gasping for breath. Breathing so hard, my chest hurt.
Mr. Weston pounded again on the locker room door. Each blow thundered through the room. “Who is in there? Who locked this?”
I forced myself to my feet. I staggered to the door on trembling legs.
I turned the lock. The door swung open fast. I had to jump back to keep from being hit.
The gym teacher stood staring at me. Several kids were bunched up behind him.
“Mickey?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “What’s going on? You look a mess. What were you doing in here?”
“Cats,” I managed to say in a tiny, weak voice. “The cats —” I pointed to the shower room.
He squinted at me. “Cats?”
I turned and motioned for him to follow me. I led the way to the shower room.
Of course, I knew the cats wouldn’t be there when we looked in.
And they weren’t.
I waited for the other guys in my class to change their clothes. When they ran to the gym to play volleyball, I stepped up to the locker room mirror.
To my surprise, I had only a few scratches.
I pulled a wad of orange cat fur from my hair. It made me shudder. I glanced around the locker room, expecting the hissing cats to return.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Weston gazed down at me. “Mickey, are you coming out for class?”
“I—I don’t think so,” I said. “I … don’t feel too great.”
He nodded. “Well, you can come out and watch,” he said. “Or do you want to see the nurse?”
“The nurse can’t help me,” I muttered.
He nodded again, turned, and walked out of the locker room.
The nurse can’t help me
, I thought.
Who can?
Who can I talk to about my cat problem?
Amanda was the only one who knew about Bella and what we did at Cat Heaven. But even she didn’t believe me when I told her I was being
haunted
by cats.
I knew I had to talk to her. She had to help me. She had to believe me.
The afternoon dragged and dragged. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion.
Miss Harris started the Civil War again. I tried to take notes, but I just couldn’t think straight.
Every noise made me jump. Every high voice or cry or laugh in the classroom made me think the cats were back.
I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t stop shaking my legs and tapping the desktop with both hands. I kept alert, gazing under chairs and desks, looking for cats. I expected a cat to attack me any moment.
I’d never been so stressed and jumpy in my life.
When the bell rang, I left my books and backpack and ran across the room to Amanda. “We—we need to talk,” I said breathlessly. “About the cat.”
“Not now,” she said. She turned away and began to stuff things into her backpack. Then she began to paw through her big canvas bag. “Where did I put my bus pass?”
“Bus pass? Where are you going?” I cried. “I’m desperate. I have to talk to you.”
She made a face at me. “You know I have my flute lesson today.”
“Skip it,” I said.
“I can’t skip it,” she insisted, pulling out the bus pass. “Our recital is Sunday, and I’ve got to practice. Bach is really hard, you know.”
“I don’t know about Bach,” I said. “I only know I’m being haunted. I think—I think we have to take Bella back to Cat Heaven.”
“No way!” Amanda said, pushing me away. “Later, okay? Save your ghost stories for tonight. You’re going to make me late.”
She tossed both bags over her
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