You're My Baby by Laura Abbot

us.”
    â€œCool your jets, okay? I’ll be there.” He took his sweet time turning off the CD player, straightening his rumpled bedspread, even lacing up his Nikes.
    Downstairs his dad was sitting next to Ms. Carver on the sofa. She looked different, younger, than she had at school, what with her hair up in a ponytail and wearing jeans and all. “Hi,” Andy said, standing awkwardly in the doorway, feeling like a jackass.
    Ms. Carver had this big smile on her face. That’s one of the things he’d liked about her in class. Her smile. “Andy, I’m so glad to see you again. I know these are much different circumstances, but I’m happy about them. I hope in time you will be, too.”
    â€œYeah, well, I guess I should say congratulations or something.” He noticed his dad’s arm snake around his teacher’s shoulders.
    â€œThank you.” She gestured toward the ugly recliner. “Come sit down, so we can get better acquainted.”
    Uh-oh. The inquisition. “I’ve got a lotta homework, Ms. Carver.” He sat tentatively.
    â€œJust for a little while. And please call me Pam, at least at home.”
    â€œI hope I don’t goof up.”
    â€œIt won’t be the end of the world if you do.”
    His father just sat there, letting Ms. Carver—Pam—talk, which she did. “I noticed today that you’re a Stephen King fan. Do you have a favorite?”
    â€œI like them all, but my favorite is Salem’s Lot. ”
    â€œHave you read the Poe I assigned?”
    He felt a slow burn splotching his face. He hadn’t done any homework. And he didn’t have any plans to. “Not yet.”
    â€œIf you like King, I predict you’ll like Poe. He’s the father of the mystery story.”
    Andy was mildly interested, but darned if he’d let her or his father know it. Maybe later he’d take a peek at his English book.
    â€œOne of his eeriest is ‘The Black Cat.’ Speaking of which—” she grinned at his dad “—the cats are still in the car. Will you help me get them, Andy?”
    â€œWhat cats?”
    â€œViola and Sebastian. My kitties. You’ll love them.”
    He got up to follow her. “I dunno,” he said. “I’ve never had any pets. Unless you count goldfish. Which I don’t.”
    â€œWell, then, you have a treat in store.”
    He helped her lug a big cage inside. When she unlatched the door, a black-and-white fur ball dashed under the sofa, while a silky gray cat with huge green eyes hunkered inside the cage, eyeing him curiously.
    â€œC’mon out, Viola,” Ms. Carver urged. Finally the cat crept forward, sniffing the air in a finicky way. “Meet Andy,” Pam said, scooping up the cat and gently placing it in his arms. It lay there, all soft and furry. Then he felt the rumble against his chest. The cat was purring. For a moment he felt peaceful. Hey, no way. The woman wasn’t going to win him over with a stupid cat. “Here,” he said, handing the creature back.
    His dad had sidled away from the cage, obviously content to let them deal with the animals.
    â€œGrant, why don’t you fix us all some sodas? Maybe some chips. I imagine Andy could eat something.” She winked at him.
    He realized he was kinda hungry. After his dad left the room, Pam sat down again, still cradling the cat. She motioned him to join her on the sofa. “Viola is a very particular cat. You should feel honored. She likes you.” Before he could think of an answer, he was startled to discover the cat creeping toward him, then kneading his thigh with her forepaws. “Now, Sebastian, he takes to everybody. But he doesn’t like new places.”She laughed. “He may not come out from under the sofa for days.”
    He couldn’t freakin’ believe it. He was sitting here involved in a conversation about her pets. He didn’t even