Beware of Cat by Vincent Wyckoff Page A

there was no way he would let go of the bike. His bicycle and backpack were the only familiar items remaining to him, and he clung to them for dear life. But I had no intention of getting any closer to wipe his face off. It turned out to be sort of a standoff, with the white tissue suspended between us. I finally gave up.
    We were at the far back edge of my route. I knew everybody for several blocks in front of us, so I assumed he lived in the other direction. I pointed over his shoulder. “Do you live over that way?”
    It took a moment for him to nod. Then he tried to speak. “Mom,” hiccup, hiccup. “My mom,” hiccup. Deep, shuddering gasps.
    “Your mother. Is she home?”
    His head wagged sideways, then he blurted, “I don’t know where she is!”
    “Can you show me where you live?”
    He nodded before reciting his address. It came out with a deliberate enunciation, like a student giving an answer on an oral exam. His house was just a few blocks away, but he had crossed at least one busy street to get here.
    It seemed my options were few, especially since I was afraid he’d start crying again if I even looked away from him. I did not dare load him and his bike into the jeep. Besides, I didn’t think he would trust me that far. Where were all the nosy neighbors now, and why didn’t someone step outside to see what all the commotion was about?
    “I’m five years old.”
    The soft voice caught me by surprise. What was this, a glimmer of rationality? The tear-stained face looked up at me with trust and hope. His fingers nervously kneaded the grips on the handlebars.
    “Five years old?” I echoed. “My goodness, are you in school?”
    He nodded.
    “What school do you go to?”
    “Morris Park.”
    That was good to know, because it was nearby, and if his mother didn’t show up maybe they could help me. I was still considering options when he said, “My name is Jermaine.”
    Again I was surprised by his candid offer of information. But then it occurred to me that a five year old has a very limited repertoire of solid facts. This kid was all alone and couldn’t find his mother, but he was giving me everything he knew in an effort to do the right thing.
    “My mom’s name is Danielle.”
    That one nearly melted my heart.
    “Okay, Jermaine. That’s great. You’re five years old and you go to Morris Park School. Your mom’s name is Danielle. You even know your address. You must be the smartest kid in your class.”
    He started to smile, but got serious again real quick. “I’m only in kindergarten.”
    “Kindergarten?” I exclaimed. “That’s my favorite!”
    Now I got the smile.
    “So, this is what we’re going to do, Jermaine. I want you to listen real good, because we have to have a plan, right?”
    A nod.
    “Good. Now, I want you to ride your bicycle, and I’m going to drive my jeep.” A shadow of fear crossed his face, so I quickly added, “But we won’t split up, okay? I’ll just drive along beside you.” I had no idea how I would pull that off, but I couldn’t let this kid start crying again.
    I pointed down the street in the direction we would be going. “You stop at each corner and wait for me, Jermaine. I don’t want you crossing any streets unless I’m right next to you, okay?”
    His foot was already on the pedal when he nodded at me.
    We started off slowly. The tiny wheels of the bike prevented him from going very fast, but he pedaled for all he was worth. When we got to a busier street, I had to speed up a bit because of traffic. Locating him in the side view mirror took a moment, but when I found him, I immediately veered back to the curb. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk straddling his bicycle. I threw open my door to hear him screaming, “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
    “I won’t leave you, Jermaine. I’m right here.”
    Fighting through the tears he got back on his bike. After that, I turned on my hazard lights and idled along the curb to stay next to