1
“Let me hold her for a while.”
Amanda grabbed the cat from my hands and bumped me out of the way. She bumped me so hard, I almost fell onto the couch.
“You don’t have to grab,” I muttered.
“It’s faster, Mickey,” she said. “You’re as slow as a banana.”
Banana?
She’s
weird.
The Caplans laughed. “I thought you were best friends,” Mrs. Caplan said. “Do you always argue like that?”
“No. Never,” I said.
“Yes. Always,” Amanda said.
Mrs. Caplan is a tall woman with long, straight black hair, thick black eyebrows, and big green eyes. She loves to wear bright colors, red and purple and yellow.
She has a deep voice and speaks as if she’sonstage. She told us she wanted to be a Broadway actress. But she ended up a drama teacher in the high school instead.
Mr. Caplan is shorter and less colorful. And quiet. He has short, wavy hair, mostly gray. And he wears round, black-framed glasses that make him look a little like an owl.
He was our fifth-grade teacher last year. He was a pretty good teacher, except he talked about his vegetable garden too much.
And it was kind of weird having your next-door neighbor for your teacher.
Bella, the Caplans’ black cat, settled into Amanda’s arms and purred softly. Amanda grinned at me.
I knew what that grin was saying.
Bella likes me better than you, Mickey.
“Bella doesn’t usually like to be held,” Mr. Caplan said, scratching his gray hair.
“She’s a sweet, sweet cat,” Mrs. Caplan said. “But she’s not a lap cat.”
“She sure has taken to you, Amanda,” Mr. Caplan said.
Amanda flashed me that obnoxious grin again.
She should be nice to me.
I’m
the one who got us this cat-sitting job.
But no problem. I’m used to my friend Amanda Underwood.
I mean, she has lived across the street from me my whole life. So she’s like a tree … or a rock … or a mailbox. You know. Something that’s just always been there.
Amanda seems a lot sweeter than she is. She is about two inches shorter than me. She’s kind of tiny and looks about nine or ten, even though she’s my age, twelve.
She has straight copper-colored hair, big blue eyes, and a tiny mouth shaped just like a little heart.
A
lot
of words come from that tiny mouth. I mean, she says about a hundred words to my one. And she talks really fast, like she’s always excited and in a big hurry.
I guess I’m the quiet type — especially next to Amanda.
Don’t get me wrong. Amanda and I are best friends. We really like each other.
We just don’t always get along.
“So let me get it straight,” Amanda said, gently petting Bella’s back. The cat had her eyes closed and made soft purring sounds. “We come here to your house twice a day and feed Bella and give her water.”
Mr. Caplan nodded. “That’s right. And clean the litter box. Don’t forget that part.”
“That will be Mickey’s job,” Amanda said.
Nice!
“We’ll be sailing for six days,” Mrs. Caplan said. She moved her arms to show ocean waves. “But you can reach us if you need to. I’ll leave you the numbers.”
“I’ll leave you my brother’s number, too,” Mr. Caplan added. “In case you have any trouble.”
“We can handle it. Easy job,” I said.
“We won’t have any trouble,” Amanda said. “Look how sweet Bella is.”
The cat raised her head and gazed up at Amanda with her bright yellow eyes.
“She is so awesomely sweet,” Amanda said, cuddling the black cat.
Famous last words?
You have no idea.
2
The horror didn’t start until the second afternoon.
The idea was to care for Bella twice a day—before school and after school. It was an easy job. And fun—especially for me because I’ve always liked cats.
And the Caplans were paying us each fifty dollars for the week. Not too shabby, right?
The first day was good. We went in the morning before school. Bella seemed glad to see us. She meowed and rubbed against our legs.
“She’s hungry,” Amanda said.
“Let me hold her for a while.”
Amanda grabbed the cat from my hands and bumped me out of the way. She bumped me so hard, I almost fell onto the couch.
“You don’t have to grab,” I muttered.
“It’s faster, Mickey,” she said. “You’re as slow as a banana.”
Banana?
She’s
weird.
The Caplans laughed. “I thought you were best friends,” Mrs. Caplan said. “Do you always argue like that?”
“No. Never,” I said.
“Yes. Always,” Amanda said.
Mrs. Caplan is a tall woman with long, straight black hair, thick black eyebrows, and big green eyes. She loves to wear bright colors, red and purple and yellow.
She has a deep voice and speaks as if she’sonstage. She told us she wanted to be a Broadway actress. But she ended up a drama teacher in the high school instead.
Mr. Caplan is shorter and less colorful. And quiet. He has short, wavy hair, mostly gray. And he wears round, black-framed glasses that make him look a little like an owl.
He was our fifth-grade teacher last year. He was a pretty good teacher, except he talked about his vegetable garden too much.
And it was kind of weird having your next-door neighbor for your teacher.
Bella, the Caplans’ black cat, settled into Amanda’s arms and purred softly. Amanda grinned at me.
I knew what that grin was saying.
Bella likes me better than you, Mickey.
“Bella doesn’t usually like to be held,” Mr. Caplan said, scratching his gray hair.
“She’s a sweet, sweet cat,” Mrs. Caplan said. “But she’s not a lap cat.”
“She sure has taken to you, Amanda,” Mr. Caplan said.
Amanda flashed me that obnoxious grin again.
She should be nice to me.
I’m
the one who got us this cat-sitting job.
But no problem. I’m used to my friend Amanda Underwood.
I mean, she has lived across the street from me my whole life. So she’s like a tree … or a rock … or a mailbox. You know. Something that’s just always been there.
Amanda seems a lot sweeter than she is. She is about two inches shorter than me. She’s kind of tiny and looks about nine or ten, even though she’s my age, twelve.
She has straight copper-colored hair, big blue eyes, and a tiny mouth shaped just like a little heart.
A
lot
of words come from that tiny mouth. I mean, she says about a hundred words to my one. And she talks really fast, like she’s always excited and in a big hurry.
I guess I’m the quiet type — especially next to Amanda.
Don’t get me wrong. Amanda and I are best friends. We really like each other.
We just don’t always get along.
“So let me get it straight,” Amanda said, gently petting Bella’s back. The cat had her eyes closed and made soft purring sounds. “We come here to your house twice a day and feed Bella and give her water.”
Mr. Caplan nodded. “That’s right. And clean the litter box. Don’t forget that part.”
“That will be Mickey’s job,” Amanda said.
Nice!
“We’ll be sailing for six days,” Mrs. Caplan said. She moved her arms to show ocean waves. “But you can reach us if you need to. I’ll leave you the numbers.”
“I’ll leave you my brother’s number, too,” Mr. Caplan added. “In case you have any trouble.”
“We can handle it. Easy job,” I said.
“We won’t have any trouble,” Amanda said. “Look how sweet Bella is.”
The cat raised her head and gazed up at Amanda with her bright yellow eyes.
“She is so awesomely sweet,” Amanda said, cuddling the black cat.
Famous last words?
You have no idea.
2
The horror didn’t start until the second afternoon.
The idea was to care for Bella twice a day—before school and after school. It was an easy job. And fun—especially for me because I’ve always liked cats.
And the Caplans were paying us each fifty dollars for the week. Not too shabby, right?
The first day was good. We went in the morning before school. Bella seemed glad to see us. She meowed and rubbed against our legs.
“She’s hungry,” Amanda said.
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