Storm Rescue by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

at you, like they know everything you’re thinking.
    I’ve wanted a cat for so long that it’s hard to believe I finally have one of my own. Her name is Mittens, and I helped rescue her and her kittens. My mother and father made me find new homes for the kittens when they were old enough, but I got to keep Mittens.
    Having a cat is a lot of responsibility—I have to remember to keep her food and water bowls filled and clean out the litter box every day. But having a cat is also just as wonderful as I always thought it would be. Mittens nuzzles my chin to wake me up in the morning, warms my lap while I read, and greets me at the door when I come home. What more could you ask for?
    I watch Lucy hunch down and wiggle her backside as she stares at her ball intently. “My father says today is a triple-H day,” I tell Maggie. “It’s hazy, hot, and humid.”
    Maggie nods and glances around. “Yeah. I’m glad we put out all those extra water bowls around the yard,” she says. “It would be easy for a dog to get dehydrated in this heat.”
    It’s no surprise that Maggie is more concerned about the animals at the picnic than the people. She loves animals as much as I do—especially dogs. Maggie can train almost any dog to do almost anything. She even taught Sherlock to put his food dish in the dishwasher. When she opens the door, he pulls out the lower rack and plops the dish in. It’s so cute!
    â€œUh-oh,” Maggie says, holding out her hand and glancing up at the sky. “It’s sprinkling.”
    A drop hits Lucy and she flinches. That’s another reason I like cats. I don’t like water, either—especially when I can’t touch the bottom. In fact, I’m afraid of anything deeper than my bathtub.
    â€œI hope it doesn’t start raining harder and ruin the picnic. I was just about to get another hot dog,” Maggie says.
    â€œBlame it on Felix,” I say, hugging Lucy to me as another drop splashes on my arm.
    Maggie frowns. “Who?”
    â€œThat’s the name of that hurricane that’s coming up the coast,” I explain, stepping back to stand under the overhang of the roof.
    Maggie ducks under the roof with me and says, “Oh, right, I saw that on the news this morning. But what does Hurricane Felix have to do with us? It’s way down in South Carolina or somewhere.”
    I’m about to answer, but just then Lucy wriggles in my arms. Letting out a little grunt, she pushes at me with her hind legs and tries to escape my grasp.
    â€œLucy!” I say in surprise, putting her down. “What’s up, girl?” She loves being held almost as much as she loves playing with her ball. Why is she acting so weird?
    Lucy circles my legs once, shaking her wet paws after each step. Then she stands on her hind feet and hugs my leg with her two front paws.
    â€œTold you so,” I say, picking her up again.
    â€œTypical fickle cat,” Maggie kids, and pats Lucy on the head.
    â€œHey,” David calls as he lopes up onto the deck.
    â€œHi,” says Maggie. “Do you know if there are any more hot dogs?”
    David tosses his shaggy bangs out of his eyes and grins. “Sure, there’s one right there,” he says, pointing to a Labrador retriever lying on the grass below.
    I roll my eyes. David is always goofing around. Just about the only thing he’s ever serious about is horses. They’re his favorite animal, and he’s a really good rider, even though he’s only eleven, like Maggie and me.
    â€œ... and there’s another one, and another one ... ” David continues to point out dogs.
    â€œNever mind,” Maggie mutters. “I’ll go see for myself. Want one, Sunita?”
    â€œSure,” I say.
    David sits down on a bench. “It figures you’d find the one cat at the whole picnic, Sunita,” he says. “You’re like a cat magnet.”
    I