his voice breaking on hysteria. “Can’t you just invent something?”
Squeak pried Itchy’s hand away. “We really don’t have time.”
“No, we don’t,” Sam solemnly agreed.
“I’m doomed!” Itchy wailed.
But then Sam’s face suddenly brightened. “I have an idea!”
C HAPTER T HIRTEEN
A NIMAL C OMPANIONS
S am jumped up from the table, her eyes glittering with excitement. “We can use Henry to determine who the clones are! He knew instantly that the Itchy clone in the clubhouse was a fake.”
“And the kittens,” Boney said. “Somehow, they knew the difference, too. They hissed at that clone at the Flying Fiends Competition. I knew there was something funny going on there.”
Itchy’s face screwed up as though he’d just swallowed a fly. “There was a clone at the competition?”
“Yes,” Boney said. “Remember when I sent you to get lemonade?”
“Yeah …”
“Well, you returned empty-handed—at least, the clone did—and I thought it was you. It was wearing mySuperman T-shirt and I thought you’d changed because you were too embarrassed to wear the pink kitten shirt your mom made.”
Itchy wiped his nose. “What did it want?”
“I don’t know. It just stood there, staring blankly, until I yelled at it to go get lemonade and it left.”
“That falls within the realm of normalcy,” Squeak observed.
Boney nodded. “That’s why I didn’t suspect anything. But the kittens knew there was something wrong because they began to hiss and growl the second it showed up.”
Itchy’s eyes glimmered hopefully. “So … all we have to do is carry kittens everywhere we go …?”
“Yes!” Boney said.
Sam took a kitten from Itchy’s arms. “I like this one with the black and white spots.” She held the kitten up to her face. “I’m going to call him Fluffy.” And then she started speaking in a strange, high-pitched voice. “Isn’t he just the cutest thing on the planet? Isn’t he just the sweetest, fluffiest, lovey-dovey boy? Yes, he is! He’s a lovey-dovey boy!” She squealed and hugged the kitten, kissing him over and over.
The boys stared at each other uncomfortably.
“Disgusting,” Itchy muttered.
“I’m rather fond of the orange one,” Squeak piped up, taking the orange kitten from Itchy.
“And … uh … I really like this striped grey one,” Boney said, claiming the last kitten.
Squeak looked at Boney, raising an eyebrow and speaking in his best Mr. Spock voice. “Your aunt’s response to the kitten should prove most interesting.”
“What do you mean?” Boney asked.
Squeak continued to stare at him, eyebrow pitched. “Do you really think she’s going to allow you to have a cat?”
“I’ll have to come up with a reason that my aunt can’t refuse.”
“No one can guarantee the actions of another,” Squeak said.
Boney shrugged. “My aunt’s pretty predictable.”
“True. Assuming she does allow you to keep the kitten, what do you intend on calling him?”
Boney considered the kitten for a moment. “I think Tiger’s a good name for a striped cat. How about you? What will you call your kitten? Leonardo da Vinci?”
“That would be illogical. He looks more like a Spock to me.”
“Of course,” Boney said. “It’s the ears.”
“What about Itchy?” Sam asked. “He doesn’t have a kitten.”
Itchy waved his dirty hanky. “Oh, don’t worry about me. My house is crawling with cats. Besides, I think I’m allergic.” He sneezed loudly.
“How about Henry?” Boney suggested. “You’re not allergic to him.”
The friends turned to look at the rooster, who was slumbering on the clubhouse floor, his head under his wing. He seemed to sense he was being watched and startled awake, shaking his feathers and blinking a yellow eye in Itchy’s direction.
Boney smiled. “See? He knows we’re talking about him. He’ll keep you safe from the clones, Itchy.”
Itchy held out his hand. The rooster strutted over and hopped into
Squeak pried Itchy’s hand away. “We really don’t have time.”
“No, we don’t,” Sam solemnly agreed.
“I’m doomed!” Itchy wailed.
But then Sam’s face suddenly brightened. “I have an idea!”
C HAPTER T HIRTEEN
A NIMAL C OMPANIONS
S am jumped up from the table, her eyes glittering with excitement. “We can use Henry to determine who the clones are! He knew instantly that the Itchy clone in the clubhouse was a fake.”
“And the kittens,” Boney said. “Somehow, they knew the difference, too. They hissed at that clone at the Flying Fiends Competition. I knew there was something funny going on there.”
Itchy’s face screwed up as though he’d just swallowed a fly. “There was a clone at the competition?”
“Yes,” Boney said. “Remember when I sent you to get lemonade?”
“Yeah …”
“Well, you returned empty-handed—at least, the clone did—and I thought it was you. It was wearing mySuperman T-shirt and I thought you’d changed because you were too embarrassed to wear the pink kitten shirt your mom made.”
Itchy wiped his nose. “What did it want?”
“I don’t know. It just stood there, staring blankly, until I yelled at it to go get lemonade and it left.”
“That falls within the realm of normalcy,” Squeak observed.
Boney nodded. “That’s why I didn’t suspect anything. But the kittens knew there was something wrong because they began to hiss and growl the second it showed up.”
Itchy’s eyes glimmered hopefully. “So … all we have to do is carry kittens everywhere we go …?”
“Yes!” Boney said.
Sam took a kitten from Itchy’s arms. “I like this one with the black and white spots.” She held the kitten up to her face. “I’m going to call him Fluffy.” And then she started speaking in a strange, high-pitched voice. “Isn’t he just the cutest thing on the planet? Isn’t he just the sweetest, fluffiest, lovey-dovey boy? Yes, he is! He’s a lovey-dovey boy!” She squealed and hugged the kitten, kissing him over and over.
The boys stared at each other uncomfortably.
“Disgusting,” Itchy muttered.
“I’m rather fond of the orange one,” Squeak piped up, taking the orange kitten from Itchy.
“And … uh … I really like this striped grey one,” Boney said, claiming the last kitten.
Squeak looked at Boney, raising an eyebrow and speaking in his best Mr. Spock voice. “Your aunt’s response to the kitten should prove most interesting.”
“What do you mean?” Boney asked.
Squeak continued to stare at him, eyebrow pitched. “Do you really think she’s going to allow you to have a cat?”
“I’ll have to come up with a reason that my aunt can’t refuse.”
“No one can guarantee the actions of another,” Squeak said.
Boney shrugged. “My aunt’s pretty predictable.”
“True. Assuming she does allow you to keep the kitten, what do you intend on calling him?”
Boney considered the kitten for a moment. “I think Tiger’s a good name for a striped cat. How about you? What will you call your kitten? Leonardo da Vinci?”
“That would be illogical. He looks more like a Spock to me.”
“Of course,” Boney said. “It’s the ears.”
“What about Itchy?” Sam asked. “He doesn’t have a kitten.”
Itchy waved his dirty hanky. “Oh, don’t worry about me. My house is crawling with cats. Besides, I think I’m allergic.” He sneezed loudly.
“How about Henry?” Boney suggested. “You’re not allergic to him.”
The friends turned to look at the rooster, who was slumbering on the clubhouse floor, his head under his wing. He seemed to sense he was being watched and startled awake, shaking his feathers and blinking a yellow eye in Itchy’s direction.
Boney smiled. “See? He knows we’re talking about him. He’ll keep you safe from the clones, Itchy.”
Itchy held out his hand. The rooster strutted over and hopped into
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