Random Acts of Kittens Read online

  “Well, if you say so … That’s five kitten profiles, then.”

  “Yes, and to spread the word, I’ll need you to pretend you want a kitten. People follow your advice, basketball team captain.” I playfully tapped his arms, which looked puny but were actually three-point-shot-launching machines.

  The spark in Reuben’s eye flickered and then died.

  “What?” I asked, worried about the change in his expression. “It’s not like you’ll have to get one, you know?”

  He hesitated, like he didn’t know how to tell me something, when his phone went off. He looked down at the screen and said, “My mom’s here. Time to start the Christmas festivities now that I’m not sick anymore.”

  Just then, we coughed in unison, and we laughed, but deep down, I was disappointed to miss some Christmas fun.

  “You can go. It’s not a big deal,” I said. “Stay healthy because I’ll need you on that first day of school. And remember, not a word to Meera.”

  Reuben made the gesture of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. A car honked outside, and he headed to the front door. Before he left, though, he turned around and said, “Don’t forget to put the letter M in the freezer.”

  For a second, I thought he was talking about Meera or some obscure holiday tradition I’d forgotten about, like lighting Advent candles or moving the donkey closer to the Nativity.

  “Put the M in the freezer?” I asked.

  “For the kittens!” His smile was so cheesy he could hardly talk. “The M turns the ice into mice.” There was a pause and then he said, “Get it?”

  The memory of his laughter, and the excitement of surprising people with a kitten on Valentine’s Day, kept me going through the day.

  It helped me through the following ten days actually, the whole winter break and the holidays, empty of Papi, but full of kittens and purrs. Ten days of newborn kittens.

  Every time Papi called, I was conveniently busy with the cats or asleep, recovering from the nighttime feedings.

  But on the day before school, I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. It was the most pet-acular feeling to post the first Kitten Cupid video sequence made up of photos of the kittens’ first days.

  The caption read:

  Andromeda Elementary, find your purrfect Valentine. After all, nothing says love like a purring kitten in your arms.

  Maybe it was the fuzzy feelings in my heart watching the video over and over as the views rose, but I gave in to an impulse and sent the video to my dad too.

  You would love them, I wrote.

  My fingers hovered over the keyboard, waiting for my heart to dictate the next words, but I didn’t know how to turn my feelings into sentences. After all, I wasn’t like favorita Julieta, who always knew the perfect thing to say.

  Maybe a drawing would be best. I’d draw a tornado of grays and blacks, and a tiny splash of color in a corner, representing Reuben and my cats. But I couldn’t make my dad sad about me, thousands of miles away. He had more important things to do than worry about my feelings. Things like staying alive.

  No. If I sent him a message telling him I was so sad, he’d tell Mami, and then she’d be upset I wasn’t trying to be happy. The splash of color in my life was all Papi would get to see for now. He could guess about the whirlwind in my heart.

  Besides, I had many things to work through, like how to deal with the avalanche of applications. I was positive that when word spread about the kittens, everyone would want one. And maybe when at the end I revealed it was me behind the whole thing, people would realize how unfairly they’d treated me. I wasn’t the mean, selfish girl who’d made Meera cry and didn’t want to share the slime recipes. No one had made the effort to understand that not everyone cries when they have a broken heart. The recipe was something special I shared with my dad, and Meera had taken it away from me.

  But I would show them. Maybe, for even just a day, I could be everyone’s favorite.

  For the first time in sixth grade, I was excited to go to school the next day.

  The alarm went off, and a horrible heaviness pressed down on my chest.

  “No, no,” I whispered. I didn’t want to start the second half of sixth grade like I’d started the first half, back in September. That day, I’d woken up with crushing anxiety over how people would treat me after the fight with Meera and the failure of Slime Supreme.

  Now I tried to push all the darkness to the corner of my soul until I could deal with it at night when no one could see me. I pictured the perfect softness and plumpness of Johnnycakes’s paws, the dainty valentine of Fifi’s nose. Gigi’s purring when she bathed the babies, and the way Max’s tiny tummy rose gently while she slept. But the heaviness wouldn’t go away, and when I took a deep breath, the heaviness started … rumbling … ?

  No, it was purring!

  I opened my eyes to see Gigi sitting on my chest.

  I laughed and Gigi’s ears twitched. She dipped her head down and licked my face with her scratchy tongue.

  “Good morning, Queen Georgiana,” I said in a croaky voice, wiping my face with the back of my hand so I wouldn’t hurt her feelings. But I knew too much of what she cleaned with that picker-upper tongue.

  In response, she meowed and jumped off the bed. She looked over her shoulder, and I understood she wanted me to follow her. She walked toward the laundry room with the grace of a true queen.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, untangling myself from my heavy antianxiety blanket and stumbling in the dark after her. By now, she knew I’d follow her to the ends of the world, and I thanked my lucky stars that no one had called from the vet claiming her.

  The microwave clock said it was only 5:55 a.m. After days of routine, was Gigi suddenly afraid I’d forget to feed Max at 6:00? Or worse, had something happened to one of the babies? The leftover drowsiness fled like a spooked bird.

  I ran to check on the nest. The kittens were sleeping, but Meggie, the orange tabby girl, was squirming and chirping, missing her mama already. Gigi started wolfing down her food without even chewing. She meowed again over her shoulder. She seemed to be telling me something, but I couldn’t understand what.

  And then I saw it. I saw her.

  Max’s eyes were open! She was following my every move, and when I stretched out my hand to pick her up, she meowed softly.

  “Good morning,” I whispered, and kissed her tiny velvety black nose.

  The other kittens meowed too, either responding to my voice or crying because they missed their mama. I inspected each one of them, and all of their eyes were open. Fifi’s just barely, but she was trying to unglue her eyelids, as if she couldn’t wait to see the whole wide world. Reuben had emailed me a chart that said their eyes would open between nine and twelve days, and this was technically day twelve. The babies had been born premature, so it was natural they were on the slower end. One thing they all had down was the purring. They’d been little rumbling love engines since day one.

  Outside the window, the snow sparkled like diamonds, and a silver sliver of moon shone in a parting of the dark clouds. It wasn’t a star to make a wish on, but I sent a kiss and a hug, hoping it would bounce on the moon and then back to Earth. I hoped my love would reach my dad, wherever he was.

  Although there was that sticky sadness and its friend anxiety in the bottom of the ocean of my emotions, on the top of my heart the waves were mostly happy. With my cats, I didn’t have to pretend. And when I was sad, they just waited for me to breathe it out.

  “What are you doing up already?” Mami asked, startling me. She’d spoken softly, but I realized she’d been watching me watching the moon and mumbling silly things to it. I got embarrassed.

  The good feelings evaporated so quickly even I was surprised when I exclaimed, “What time does a person have to get up to get some quiet time in this house?”

  Mami’s eyes hardened as she shook her head and headed to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

  “Since you’re up, get ready for school
. Stop fussing over the kittens. They must be celebrating you’ll be gone for hours so they can sleep in peace.”

  “Yes, I understand the feeling. I always celebrate when you’re gone all day and I have to be home by myself.” The sarcasm turned my words into a hiss. I imagined inside I looked like an angry cat. Even Gigi sent me a disapproving look.

  Seeing my mom’s expression, I wished I could turn back time and not say such hurtful words. I hadn’t intended for the morning to start this way. Why was it so hard to at least appear to be happy? Instead, my sadness leaked out as anger. Pretending to be happy was technically a way of lying, but no adults, especially my mom, had a problem with it. This attitude was what got me in trouble every time, but I didn’t know how to change.

  Before I could apologize and then turn the conversation to a happy topic, like the babies opening their eyes, Mami said, “Just so you know, Meera and Bodhi are going to ride to school with us for the next couple of weeks.”

  I choked on my good intentions. “They what?” I had no problems with Bodhi. He was adorable. But Meera?

  Mami closed her eyes in that way that meant she was praying for patience. “Natalia, take a breath and drop that attitude.”

  “What attitude? Mami, after what happened with Meera, you think I’m going to share a ride with her?”

  Beli peeked her head out of her door, and when she saw Mami and me arguing, she went back into Julieta’s room. The whispers and muffled laughter between them didn’t make me feel any better.

  “You’re welcome to walk to school, then,” Mami said. “When Vidya asked me the favor late last night, I couldn’t say no.”

  “I’ll walk, then,” I said.

  I saw the lightning in Mami’s eyes when she was about to reply. Thunder would follow, and I braced myself for it. Suddenly, Gigi went over to my mom and rubbed her head on Mami’s leg. The tension between us broke, a bubble of anger popped by a purr and a headbutt.

  Mami sighed and in a calmer voice asked, “Haven’t you noticed that Brian has cleared our sidewalk every day it has snowed because Papi is out of town? The least I can do is drive the kids. In spite of the fight between you two, Meera is a nice girl. And Bodhi? What has that child done to you?”

  Bodhi was an angel boy. I had nothing against him. And it had been kind of Meera’s dad to think of us. But why did that mean I had to put myself at Meera’s mercy? My mom had no clue of how much worse she was making me feel. Why couldn’t she take my side for once? Did she think forcing me in the same car with Meera was being nice to me, her own daughter?

  “Remember that lo cortés no quita lo valiente, Natalia. Just because I like the Rogerses, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, you know?”

  With that, the discussion was over. How was I supposed to counter her argument that being polite didn’t take away from being brave? Being polite had only made me look weak, and now I had to put up with Meera on the ride to school every day for who knew how long. Also, what if Bodhi hated me too?

  But Mami didn’t give me the chance to change her mind. Soon, the family went into back-to-school mode.

  Julieta left with Hayden, and then the clock struck seven thirty, which meant I had to leave too. On my way out the door, Beli kissed me on the cheek and said, “The babies will be safe with me.”

  Beli’s words were the only reason I could make myself leave the kittens. What would I do when she was gone?

  When Meera got into the car next to me, I had the impulse to open the door and run all the way to school, or better yet, back home. We looked at each other for just a moment before I turned to look out the window. Bodhi clicked his seat belt and sat in silence as my mom gushed at Meera’s every word and fake smile.

  Making an effort to tune them out, I thought of how Gigi had trusted me enough to show me her babies opening their eyes. What would it be like to see the world for the first time?

  I’d always thought trees were naked in the winter, but now I noticed the sparkle in them that made them look as if they were dressed in sequins and crystals. If the kittens looked out the window with me, they’d see how bright and blue the sky looked after the snow. They’d also see how Meera smirked at me when Mami wasn’t looking, and how she twisted the charm of a paw print in her bracelet. I wondered if it represented Captain America for her, and if she missed him.

  “I heard Cap passed away,” Mami said, her thoughts obviously aligned with mine. “He had a good life with your family, though.”

  Bodhi gave out a deep sigh of sadness, and Meera’s smile drooped. This time, her expression seemed genuine instead of a show for the adults. “He got really sick, and we had to put him to sleep. I miss him so much” was all she said, and then she looked out the window.

  The silence was unbearable, and I was about to say I was sorry for her loss when Mami added, “Dogs are the best companions in life. Maybe you can get another one soon?”

  I internally rolled my eyes, and even without seeing Meera’s face, I knew she was annoyed by Mami’s comment.

  Meera and I had always wondered why people said that when someone lost a pet. Even if another one came to the family and brought happiness and love, nothing and no one could replace the one that had just died or gone away. We knew because, before her family got Cap, Meera had a lionhead bunny named Periwinkle. Even Captain America, the best dog ever, couldn’t replace Mr. Peri. And now no pet would ever truly replace Cap.

  Last year, Meera and I would have shared an understanding look, like those I’d seen between Beli and Mami, or Julieta and Mami. But now the ride continued in silence until Bodhi said, “Actually, it’s my turn to choose a pet, and I want a cat.”

  My heart went into panic mode.

  “There he goes again,” Meera said, patting her brother’s hand. “He didn’t get a cat for Christmas and now he’s pretending he’s a cat. He calls himself Niño Gato,” she explained to Mom, acting like I wasn’t even there.

  “Is that right?” Mami asked, looking at Bodhi through the rearview mirror.

  “Meow, meow” was his reply.

  Meera and Mami laughed, but pins and needles of nerves stabbed the skin of my whole body. Fearing Mami would say something about the kittens and blow my cover with Meera, I reached over and patted her shoulder. She winked at me through the mirror, and I had no other choice but to trust that she’d keep the kitten business secret.

  When we finally arrived at school, my whole body hurt from holding the tension. Meera didn’t seem to notice, though. She smiled brightly at my mom. “Thanks, Gina,” she said. I hated that she called my mom by her first name as if our families were still friends with each other. “See you later.” She didn’t even look in my direction. It was like I didn’t even exist.

  She helped her little brother out of the car, and her friends called out when they saw her. They ran to hug her, phones in hands.

  But no one waited for me, and before jumping into the torture of sixth grade, I took a deep breath.

  “Have a great day,” Mami said in the singsongy voice she reserved for asking impossible things. But since she hadn’t revealed my secret, I was careful not to slam the door on my way out.

  As I waited for the bell to ring, I shivered next to the flag pole. But the cold wasn’t the worst part.

  Around me, exclamations of happiness exploded every few seconds as friends reunited after the break. Meera and her friends huddled around a phone, looking at something that had them all smiling. Someone knocked into my shoulder—Jojo and her twin sister, Sam, as they ran to join the other girls. Sam kept going without a look in my direction, not even to apologize, but Jojo waved at me when she made sure her sister wouldn’t see. They didn’t even look like twins. Jojo was shorter and dressed in a pastel sweater and a giant bow on her head. Sam’s jeans were always ripped, the bottoms of her tennis shoes were full of doodles, and a pink stripe peeked through her hair.

  I wondered if Principal Snow would write her up for breaking the dress code that forbid unnatural hair colors,
but I doubted it. Sam was one of the principal’s favorite students, maybe because she was on student council, maybe because she always smiled at all the teachers. I didn’t know.

  The twins had been two of Slime Supreme’s most loyal customers, and when I was forced to close operations, they took out their frustration on me. I still wanted to be selling them Cotton Candy Blue and Pineapple Sublime, but they never even listened to my explanations. The twins still talked to Meera and fought for her attention, though, as if the whole thing hadn’t been her fault.

  Meera must have been telling them about Cap because Sam patted her shoulder, and Jojo had a face like she might burst into tears at any second. Lilah, a redheaded girl who’d always invited me to her birthday parties, at least until last year, glanced at me and said something that made the others crack a smile. Meera added something else, and this time the smiles turned into full belly laughter.

  Were they laughing at me? At something my mom had said in the car?

  Soon enough, Valentine’s Day would come. And when that happened, when everyone discovered I was the person giving out the kittens, how would the rest of the sixth grade react?

  I looked around for a miracle. Maybe Reuben would be early for once, but there was no trace of his freckly face.

  Finally, the first bell rang, and the younger kids ran to line up by their door.

  “Bienvenidos, niños,” Mrs. Ruiz, Bodhi’s first-grade Spanish immersion teacher, called.

  My class was heading in after the first graders, and I stood aside to let everyone enter ahead of me. Behind me, Meera was still talking to her friends.

  “Why didn’t he get a kitty?” Lilah asked.

  “We couldn’t find one, actually,” Meera said. “In the newspaper classified section, all the cats were either expensive breeds like Siamese or the hairless type, or too old to be rehomed. He wants a kitten to grow up with, and my dad insists it has to be a rescue.”