Catalyst

by Sarah Beth Durst

  His friend—who sounded like Dylan, or possibly Kevin, from school—groaned. Zoe listened as Harrison herded him out the door. The front door opened and then shut. She heard Harrison’s footsteps as he booked it back toward the kitchen—

  And then she heard a hiss, followed by a howl and a crash.

  She whipped around and saw Pipsqueak wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. Uh-oh. Following the sounds of hissing and whimpering, she hurried into the living room, bumping into Harrison in the doorway. He’d also run toward the sound.

  Pipsqueak was on the floor by the couch, hissing.

  Harrison’s Labrador was cowering on top of the bookshelf. Several picture frames, books, and knickknacks lay on the carpet in his wake.

  “Um, that’s . . .” Harrison pointed at Fibonacci. “How—” He swallowed hard. “So what do we do?” His voice sounded a little shrill.

  “Maybe a ladder?” Zoe wasn’t exactly sure how that would work, carrying the dog down. If Fibonacci could climb down the ladder himself . . . “Can dogs climb ladders?”

  “Cows can’t,” Harrison said, his voice almost a squeak. “Their knees are backward.”

  Lashing her tail, Pipsqueak paced at the base of the bookshelf as if guarding it.

  Fibonacci whimpered.

  Harrison made a kind of croak-cough, and Zoe glanced at him. Although his face was screwed up with an effort not to, he burst out laughing, doubled over with his hands on his knees. She felt a giggle bubble up, and then she was laughing too.

  After a few minutes Harrison wiped his eyes. “Okay, that was the best. Never saw a cat tree a dog. So . . . how do we figure out what’s going on with your cat? Should we go back to the vet?”

  Suddenly Zoe didn’t feel like laughing anymore. She shook her head. “And fork over more money so she can call us liars for a second time?” She never wanted to see that vet again. “Besides, the vet has no idea what’s causing this. She’ll just say it isn’t possible.”

  “It’s not possible,” Harrison informed her.

  “Stewie, a Maine Coon, is over four feet long. Guinness World Records. And there’s a liger that’s nearly eleven.” But even as she said it, she knew this wasn’t the same. There hadn’t been anything online about any fast-growing cat like Pipsqueak. She was, as far as Zoe could tell, unique.

  “Liger?”

  “Half lion and half tiger.”

  Harrison raised both his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her. “Which half ? Front half lion and back half tiger?”

  Zoe gave him a withering glare. “Lion dad and tiger mom.”

  “How do you know it’s not a lion mom and a tiger dad?”

  “That’s a tigon,” Zoe said confidently. “It’s smaller.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Would the Internet ever lie? There’s also a type of bunny called the Flemish Giant rabbit. The largest one on record weighs fifty-five pounds. It’s named Ralph.”

  Harrison whistled. “That’s awesome. And you know what? So is your cat. I know you’re worried—your forehead is doing that kind of scrunching thing it does when you’re worrying—but look at her! You have an extraordinary cat!”

  Zoe opened her mouth to say she had good reason to worry and her forehead should be scrunched, but then she stopped. He’s right, she thought. She is awesome. Zoe had been so freaked out that this was happening that she hadn’t let herself think about how amazing it was.

  Amazing, yes, but also unnatural and a little scary. “But why is she extraordinary?” Zoe asked.

  Both of them stared at Pipsqueak.

  And then the cat spoke. Out loud and unmistakably clear, in a voice that sounded a bit like a running motor. “Stop staring at me. I don’t know why this is happening either.”

  * * *

  After a full minute of stunned silence, Zoe stuttered, “D-d-did you talk?”

  “Obviously, yes, I talked. I talk. Talky, talky, talky— Whoa, wait . . .” Pipsqueak’s ears perked forward. “You can understand me? Do you speak Cat?”

  Harrison’s mouth was flopped open. He managed only, “Unghhh . . .”

  “I don’t think I speak Cat.” Zoe could not stop staring at Pipsqueak, who was staring back at her, equally shocked. “Harrison, can you speak Cat?”

  “Nnnungh . . .” He pointed at Pipsqueak with a shaking finger.

  He hears her too, Zoe thought. It’s not just me. She’s talking! Zoe dropped to her knees next to Pipsqueak. Wow! “You’re speaking English.”

  “I’m a cat. Cats can’t speak English.”

  Harrison let out a whoop, as if he were at a football game and Pipsqueak had just scored. “Exactly what I was going to say! Took the words right out of my mouth! Oh, no, wait, even better: cat got my tongue!”

  Pipsqueak shot him a glare. “I do not.” Then she switched back to Zoe. “If you’re not speaking Cat and I’m not speaking Human, then how are we talking?”

  “We can’t be!” Harrison cheered.

  He’s losing it, Zoe thought. “Harrison, deep breath. Calm down.” It would be best if they all stayed calm. Then they could figure out what was going on, if this was some kind of trick . . .

  Harrison was not staying calm. He was jumping from foot to foot. “We can’t be—because she’s a cat!” He said it triumphantly, as if it were proof that this was some kind of illusion.

  “We established that already, dog boy,” Pipsqueak said.

  “Cats can’t talk!”

  “Again, I can,” Pipsqueak said. “Obviously, because I am. Try to keep up.” She was fluffed all the way to the tip of her tail, which she was swatting back and forth, agitated. “Why is this happening to me, Zoe?” Her voice was small and kittenlike. “Why am I growing so fast? Why am I talking with humans?”

  She is scared, Zoe realized. Just as scared as I am. She doesn’t know why this is happening either. Reaching out, Zoe stroked the back of Pipsqueak’s neck. The cat felt tense, and Zoe wished she knew how to make it all better. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay.” Somehow, she thought.

  Pipsqueak let out a terse “Mew.”

  “Gotta be magic!” Harrison crowed. And Zoe suddenly realized that Harrison wasn’t acting this way because he was scared. He wasn’t scared at all; he was excited. “Or aliens. She could be a space cat!”

  How could he be excited? This was serious! “You aren’t helping,” Zoe said.

  “Radiation? Government experiment? You found her lost, right? Maybe she escaped from a lab where scientists were creating super cats!”

  Zoe supposed that wasn’t impossible. “It could be some kind of mutation.” Maybe her kitten had been exposed an unstable chemical. Or an ancient mythical stone/amulet/knickknack. TV shows always had an explanation like that. “Maybe she was near a supernatural crystal that made her change.”

  “Yeah, and next she’ll develop laser beams for eyes. Pew-pew-pew!” Harrison mimed lasers shooting out of his eyes. “Don’t you get it? If there’s no ordinary explanation, then there has to be an extraordinary one! And that means amazing things are possible!”

  Zoe wasn’t sure the ability to talk led directly to laser beams, but this time, she couldn’t help grinning. Harrison’s enthusiasm was contagious. “So you think she’s a superhero cat?”

  “Exactly! This is amazing! Now if we can just figure out what caused her amazingness . . . Was she bitten by a radioactive spider or born this way? Gamma radiation? Genetic manipulation?”

  Zoe looked at Pipsqueak again, trying to see her the way Harrison saw her. Maybe he’s right, she thought. Maybe she’s something to marvel at, not worry about. The possibilities were endless once you gave up worrying about the limits of reality. “Do you think she’ll join the X-Men or Magneto?”

  “Definitely Magneto,” Harrison said. “She’s a cat. Professor X is like the dog of mutants—totally friendly to everybody. Magneto wants to go his own way, thinks he’s superior to humans, and eats canaries.”

  “Does not.”
<
br />   “He killed the Black Canary.”

  She spotted the gleam in Harrison’s eyes. “Hah! You’re just trying to bait me. That’s an entirely different comic universe. Black Canary is DC; Magneto is Marvel.”

  Behind them, they heard Harrison’s cousin Surita say, “I like your friend, Harrison. She’s got her facts straight.”

  At the sound of her voice, Zoe, Harrison, and Pipsqueak all jumped. Quickly Zoe grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over the cat.

  Zoe held her breath, waiting for questions or at least a comment. But Surita was reading on her phone as she strolled through the living room to the stairs. She hadn’t seen Pipsqueak. Zoe and Harrison exchanged glances. Harrison’s lips were vibrating, as if he were about to burst out laughing again. Zoe didn’t think there was anything funny about this.

  Before Surita reached the stairs, Zoe dared ask a question. “Surita . . . what would you do if you discovered a miracle? One of your unexplained mysteries? Like if you found Bigfoot in your backyard.”

  “I’d help him hide,” Surita said in a duh-stupid-question voice. “Unlike those idiots outside the Eastbury House of Pizza. Not that anyone believes them.”

  Pipsqueak flicked her tail, and Zoe bent to adjust the blanket, subtly.

  “What idiots?” Harrison asked.

  Surita waved her phone at them. “A bunch of kids are saying they saw a flying poodle. Or maybe a sheep. One of them posted a video, but it’s fuzzy and far away. Everyone’s saying it’s fake. And obviously it is. Nothing that cool ever happens in Eastbury.”

  Zoe and Harrison exchanged glances again.

  A flying poodle?

  “If it did, though,” Surita continued, “they should have kept it secret.”

  “But if you saw a flying poodle or, for example, a giant alien cat,” Harrison said, “wouldn’t you want to tell the world about it? If only to reassure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating?”

  “Have you seriously never seen a single movie or read a single book?” Surita said, waving her phone in the air for emphasis. “Do you know what happens whenever people find out about the alien eating candy in the closet or the kid with telekinesis who can also walk through walls? Panic. Destruction. War. Plus a tragic, heart-wrenching moment where the ‘lucky’ kid who found the miracle has to run from government psychos who only want to dissect the nice giant gorilla, and then King Kong or the alien or the fairy or whatever dies or leaves. End result: every time, the kid and the creature have to say goodbye and never see each other again.” She shook her head. “Nah, I’d totally keep it secret. No question. Averting horrific tragedy and heartbreak is always the right choice.”

  She went back to scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to the fact that Zoe was staring at her in horror. Zoe did not want government psychos, or tragic, heart-wrenching moments, or any of that!

  They listened to her footsteps as Surita tromped upstairs.

  Only when they heard the door shut to the guest room did they breathe again. Zoe pulled the blanket off Pipsqueak, who rolled onto her back and seized it with her claws. Zoe tugged, and the cat pulled harder.

  “Okay, so we keep Pipsqueak a secret?” Harrison asked. “Even though she’s the most incredible cat ever?”

  “Yes, we absolutely keep her a secret!” Zoe gave up on the blanket. Pipsqueak kicked it with her back paws. They’d already tried to tell the vet, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. Of course, Pipsqueak hadn’t grown so much then. Or talked. “Right, Pipsqueak? What do you think?” She’d never asked the opinion of a cat before, but it felt right. This was Pipsqueak’s future they were talking about. She should have a say in what we do, Zoe thought.

  Pipsqueak quit playing with the blanket. “The girl who doesn’t like kittens said they have to say goodbye every time. I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Keep me secret.”

  Harrison sighed dramatically. “Fine. So what are we supposed to do?”

  “You could do something about that.” Pipsqueak pointed her nose toward Fibonacci, who still cowered on top of the bookshelf.

  All three of them looked up at the dog, who whimpered.

  “Oops,” Zoe said.

   Chapter 5

  EVENTUALLY THEY WERE ABLE TO COAX Fibonacci down from the bookshelf, knocking off only a few more books. And a picture frame. And two snow globes. He cowered in the corner for the rest of the afternoon while Zoe and Harrison switched between being amazed and being freaked out—and came to zero conclusions about why this was happening and what to do next.

  “Zoe?” Surita’s voice drifted down from upstairs. “It’s five thirty. Your parents are going to want you home for dinner. Probably.”

  “Okay! Thanks!” Zoe called back. To Pipsqueak, she said, “We have to get you hidden in my bedroom before my family gets home from work.”

  “And feed me dinner? Please?” Pipsqueak jumped off the couch, where she had been resting, and landed with a solid thump. She trotted toward the kitchen. Zoe followed her, and Harrison followed them. Glancing back, Zoe saw Fibonacci poke his nose around the corner of the couch.

  “I’ll keep looking online,” Harrison said. “See if I can find any clues to all this. Promise you’ll text me if she grows more?”

  “Maybe she’s done growing,” Zoe said hopefully. She asked Pipsqueak, “Do you feel done?”

  Pipsqueak nosed the back door open. “I feel hungry.”

  Zoe wondered if that was a bad sign.

  “She needs to eat,” Harrison said. “She’s a growing cat.”

  “Very funny,” Zoe said.

  She checked in all directions to make sure no one was watching, and then she scurried across Harrison’s yard and hers. Quickly Zoe opened her back door and let Pipsqueak inside. The cat bounded for the refrigerator. “More milk?” she asked, adding a plaintive meow.

  “You heard the vet’s receptionist,” Zoe scolded her. “You’re not supposed to have milk if you’re not a kitten. And since you’re not kitten-size . . .”

  “The vet said I’m impossible, and she called you a liar,” Pipsqueak said, curling around Zoe’s legs and looking up at her with those hero-worship eyes. “I don’t think we should listen to anyone at the vet’s.”

  Zoe was tempted to agree, but she was also trying to be responsible. “Just because she doesn’t know about supernatural cats doesn’t mean she’s wrong about your stomach. You don’t want to vomit.”

  “I don’t want vomit,” Pipsqueak agreed. “I want milk. Please!”

  Zoe went for the bag of dry food. “How about some nice kibble?”

  “Please, please, mew?” Pipsqueak said plaintively. She rubbed her side against Zoe’s leg. “Please, Zoe.”

  Sighing, Zoe got the milk out of the fridge and filled a bowl on the floor. Pipsqueak immediately began lapping it up. “You are”—Pipsqueak said between licks—“the best, kindest, smartest, nicest”—lick, lick—“human”—lick—“ever.” Lick. “Uh-oh.”

  “What do you mean ‘uh-oh’?”

  Zoe heard a car pull into the driveway and hurried to the window. Mom was home. She had to get Pipsqueak out of sight. Otherwise Zoe would have a whole lot of explaining to do, and zero explanations. “Pipsqueak—”

  She turned around just as the cat threw up on the kitchen floor.

  “Sorry,” Pipsqueak said miserably.

  “You okay?”

  “I didn’t want to outgrow drinking milk.”

  The cat seemed okay now that the milk was out of her and pooling across the linoleum. “Come on. I’ll bring you food you can digest.” She herded Pipsqueak up to her bedroom. “Stay here and stay quiet, okay?”

  Shutting the door, Zoe hurried back down to the kitchen and grabbed a wad of paper towels. She was soaking up the milk as Mom walked through the door. “Hi, Mom! Just spilled milk! Sorry. Cleaning it up. Nothing to worry about here!” Zoe winced at herself. That sounded far too suspicious, she thought.

  “At least you’re cleaning it
up yourself. Spray it with Lysol, please,” Mom said as she dropped her purse on the table, then peered into the fridge. “Why didn’t I thaw the chicken?”

  Okay, good. She’s not mad about the mess, Zoe thought. She fetched the Lysol. And she doesn’t seem to have guessed I have a possibly alien or supernatural talking cat in my bedroom. “We could have pizza?” Zoe suggested.

  “You always say that. I swear, you’d eat pizza for every meal if I let you.”

  “I had cereal for breakfast,” Zoe pointed out. “You can even put pineapple on the pizza, which makes it completely healthy. Because of fruit.”

  “How was your day? Did you have fun with your kitten and Harrison?”

  “Great!” My cat grew and started talking, and I’m really trying hard not to freak out about it, but it’s not normal.

  “If you promise to keep an eye on her and do your best to keep her out of my plants, you can bring her out of your room. Just for a little while.”

  “She’s asleep,” Zoe said quickly.

  Zoe thought she heard a noise from her bedroom: “Mrrow?”

  “And hungry.” Zoe grabbed the bag of cat food and a bowl. “I’ll feed her. In my room, so there isn’t a mess out here. And then she’ll probably sleep.”

  “I know I wanted you to transition her to being an outside cat as soon as possible, but you might want to keep her inside a while longer. Local news is fussing over some wild animal sighting. A stray of some sort, obviously, though the little old lady they were interviewing insisted the creature was bright green. And then her husband said he wasn’t green at all. He said it was a flying dog! I love local news. At least when it’s not criticizing the mayor’s office.”

  “I’ll keep Pipsqueak safely out of sight,” Zoe promised. “What kind of flying dog?” She thought of the flying poodle Surita had mentioned.

  “Who knows what kind of dog? The impossible kind! Apparently, all the hubbub caused a traffic jam downtown, which is why I didn’t ask your father to bring home take-out—a fact I am now regretting, since I didn’t thaw the chicken.”

  “I’ll feed my cat while you microwave the pizza?”