After Math Man left and the Twin Terrors set a table of crooked silverware, Vee brought out the big pasta bowl of fettuccine. Heather followed with an equally large pitcher of Alfredo sauce. After dashing back to the kitchen for the broccoli, Heather joined them at the table and held out each of her hands to the Twin Terrors who flanked her. Vee sat by her dad and TT1, the mouth breather.
Eating dinner at Dad’s house meant listening to the stepbrother talk with his mouth full while he tried to breathe. Dad said Vee needed to not tell him every five minutes to close his yap. Bill said yap. Vee liked the sound of the word. A beetling yap open at dinner. She took the sticky, sweaty hand, trying not to grimace. Dad squeezed her other hand, and when she turned to smile at him, he winked. Oh, Dad.
Heather bowed her head, “Thank You, Lord, for the food we are about to eat. Help us find our place in You every moment.”
With all the horrible changes, Heather blessing the food was one addition Vee liked. It reminded Vee of Sunny and Esther who talked to God like He was their friend, only lots bigger. Tonight part of the familiar prayer sounded as loud as one of the Twin Terror’s fights: “Help us find our place in You every moment.” She was sure her spot was in the ALC.
What I need:
1. More tutoring sessions with Math Man (ick).
2. Doing extra homework (double ick).
3. God to turn the fire alarm sprinklers on and ruin the math test.
The last one? Okay, maybe not. In her mind, she drew a single line through it. They would just print out another test. Unless, of course, the sprinklers ruined the printer, too….
After dinner Dad walked by and patted her shoulder. “How about a walk? Heather wants the boys to help with cleaning up after dinner so you and I can have some no-boy time. Sound good?”
Evening still held off these days, letting the day stay warm and long. From the moment they hit the driveway and headed down the cul-de-sac of huge houses, it seemed like she couldn’t shut off her mouth. She talked about the Squad coming over and how she wanted to work with them at the senior center but couldn’t because she had to pass this retest. She talked about the curious kitten and how they’d discovered each other in the bushes. She talked about the language arts teacher and beetle. Dad laughed loudly at that and threw his arm around her shoulder.
“Vee, you are so funny. I bet your teacher loves having you in class.”
Vee felt like a spotlight had been lit inside. Talking about the girls made her want to be with them. Surely they knew what she had to give up to stay in the ALC. It would only be twenty-six days. Just until the Friday morning of the Helpful City Festival.
“I really like the Accelerated Learning Center, Dad. My want-to is going strong—”
“Your mom called while you and Heather were finishing up the sauce,” Dad interrupted. Anybody who had known Dad for even a little time knew he thought in “rooms.” And when he was in one room, he didn’t hear you talking from another room. He was in the Mom Phone Call Room.
“Dad, this is important. It’s so cool in the ALC. There’s a big bathtub and—”
“Shall we do a little jog and burn off some dinner?” Dad increased his pace until Vee moved to an effortless trot. She gave up and began to grin. The smile on her face felt silly, like she was some little kid, but she couldn’t help it. She and Dad used to run together several times a week since she was little.
“I’ll race you to the tree with the sign on it!” she yelled and took off.
“Hey, no fair! You’re getting a head start.” She heard a laugh in his voice.
“Ramp up your want-to, Dad!” She pressed her hands at her sides, hands open and straight. Pump, pump. Her knees rose and fell. The tree got nearer. Footsteps pounded behind her, and she puffed out short bursts of breath. Just. A. Few. More. Feet.
“Passing!” Dad yelled and blew past her, reaching the tree seconds before her. Vee groaned and plowed into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Just ’cause your legs are longer!”
A Good Dad Weekend:
1. No Math Man
2. No Twin Terrors
3. Run with Dad
She pushed off her father’s stomach and turned to face him, hands on hips. “You almost didn’t beat me. You haven’t been running, have you?”
“Boys like soccer, not running. Heather goes to the gym. Vee, about that ‘want to …’” He moved from the tree and back onto the sidewalk where they continued, still both a little out of breath. “It’s not always—well—” He seemed to change his mind, shaking his head, and then went back to the Mom Phone Call Room. “Your mom wants you and me to come up with a service-learning project. She says you’ve been procrastinating?” He turned to look at her. “That’s not like you, Veelie.” He only called her Veelie when he was worried. He flung his arm over her shoulder, rocking her off balance and into his side. “I have a suggestion for your service-learning project.”
A quiver of excitement wriggled up Vee’s spine. “Great! With you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve decided to coach the boys’ soccer team, and we need a statistician. It would be a great way to practice math and be with me and the boys. Help us spend some family time.”
Chapter 8
Just What Is Going on Here?
Oh look! Your Dumpster cats, Vee.” Sunny pointed toward six felines, all shades and stripes of gray, black, and white, who loitered in and out of the bushes and on the Dumpster.
Vee stretched on the stairs, watching the curious kitten play with some kind of crawling bug over by the Dumpster. Bugs. She shivered and flexed her feet. “I can’t understand why old Hermann wants to get rid of them. And what does he mean by getting ‘rid’ of them?”
“Hermann’s old. Maybe he’ll forget he wants to do that,” Esther suggested. “Okay, girls, time to sign in for our projects.”
Groans from everyone.
“I do not like the smell of chicken.” Aneta pulled her hair off her neck and twisted it into a knot.
“I do not like handing Frank tools,” Sunny joined in.
“I do not like old ladies telling me ninety jillion times how to upload pictures to the website for the Helpful City Festival,” Esther complained.
“I do not like sorting and scanning photographs.” Vee laughed with the girls. After Dad’s ultim-o-horrible suggestion that she be the numbers keeper on Saturday, she had volunteered for anything upon entering the ALC today. Now she wished Mr. Tuttle had picked something more interesting for her.
Esther pulled an “I’m sorry” face. “Aneta, I heard the kitchen lady say you were cutting onions for lunch tomorrow.”
At Esther’s comment, Aneta made a face, stood, and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I will cry, cry, cry,” she said, making an equally pretend sobbing face.
Vee sprang to her feet. “I have to be home for Math Man in two hours. I better get going with my sorting and scanning. What are we supposed to learn from these projects anyway?” She stretched. “If I’m late twice or a no-show, ole Math Man will kick me off his list and it’s good-bye ALC.”
“We are good workers,” Aneta said, sounding a little anxious. Vee knew her friend had a tendency to worry about doing the right thing.
“Even if our projects are screaming boring,” Sunny added.
Vee trotted into the building. Almost two hours of photo boxes. Geesh.
At the end of her time, balancing three boxes of photos that had been combed through and scanned, Vee staggered down the hall toward the arts and crafts room where she had been promised the closet had been cleaned out and was ready for more stuff. What did they need to keep old photos for anyway? Who was going to look at them stashed in a closet? She felt a sneeze coming on and slowed, trying to keep the big boxes steady.
The enormous man had said she should only take one box at a time, but that would mean going back for two more trips. She would then cut it too close to make it home for Math Man. So she had insisted the enormous man place two small boxes on top o
f the first one. His idea of small and hers were different. She felt the boxes slip.
The sneeze tickled again. So did thoughts of whether to set down the boxes and just sneeze. Then she might not be able to pick them up again. That would make her really late. What if she sneezed with the boxes? Would she fall down and not be able to get up and still be late? Trying to breathe deeply and thwart the sneeze, she smelled burning onions. And smoke.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Aneta’s voice, rising to a shriek, came in loud and clear as Vee neared the kitchen.
“Help! Fire!” came Sunny’s voice from somewhere. The next moment, something hit Vee behind the knees, and she flew forward. Only it wasn’t like she’d ever expected flying to be. Rather, she leapfrogged awkwardly into the air, letting go of the boxes, collapsing on her hands and knees. Right before a wheelchair ran over her, pinning her to the floor.
“Yikes! Sorry! Sorry!” It was Sunny’s voice again.
The boxes, released into flight, moved like a slo-mo commercial—bashing into Esther who had stepped out of the audio-visual room with an old lady. The stocky girl tipped over like a bowling pin on Family Fun Night. A grunt escaped her. Vee winced. Those boxes were heavy.
Trying to get her brain to remember where her legs and arms were so she could stand up and help Aneta, who was still screaming, and somehow stop the smoke that still poured out of the kitchen, Vee thought of Math Man. She could not be late. But it was more important that she find out if Sunny was hurt. Was Esther okay? Wasn’t anyone going to stop that smoke? Beetle! How much worse could it get?
“Just what is going on here?” A sharp voice punched through the chaotic yelling and groaning.
Vee peered up at the senior center director standing with Hermann, and the Animal Control officer. Oh, it could get plenty worse.
Chapter 9
Where’s the Curious Kitten?
The next day, as Vee approached what she considered “Squad” steps after school, she looked at the Dumpster. About half the cats were lying on the lid of the Dumpster in the sun. There was no sight of the curious kitten. Something clutched in her stomach.
Arriving late for Math Man after the disaster at the senior center yesterday, he’d yapped about how she had one time left to be late. Vee, explaining that it had been a matter of life and death with smoke and onions and wheelchairs and murderous boxes and the really mad senior center director, hadn’t moved Math Man.
The Squad hadn’t talked to each other last night. That meant everyone was either busy or in trouble for getting kicked out of the senior center. Or both. With Vee, it had been both. Her mother had called her dad; both had said they were disappointed in her and they hoped she would use better judgment in the future. And of course, there was math homework.
The girls were there already, sitting off to the side of the library steps, as far away from the senior center as you could get and still be at the community center.
Esther leaned back on her elbows. Vee saw her point toward the Dumpster. That Cat Woman was there, preparing her pie pans of kitty food.
“Have you seen the curious kitten?” Vee asked, dropping down next to Esther.
Sunny turned toward the Dumpster. “You mean your under-the-bush buddy? Nope. Looks like some others are missing, too.”
“You don’t think the Animal Control officer got them already, do you?” Vee remembered the Animal Control officer in the senior center yesterday.
“Don’t worry.” Esther stretched out her solid legs on the step below. “Don’t you think we would’ve heard Cat Woman if he was doing that?”
“Hmmm,” was all Vee said.
After a few moments of quietly watching the cats, Vee started the conversation they were all avoiding. “You won’t believe what my mother is making me do.”
“What?” Aneta asked.
“My mom says I have to find a new project at the senior center.” Vee waited for the girls to freak that Mom was making Vee go back to where certain death awaited.
Sunny halted her spinning and staggered in a circle. “You’re kidding. So did mine.”
Aneta said, “My mom said it would be a redemption, whatever that means.”
Esther began laughing. “Mine, too. It’s never good for us when they start talking.”
“How can we go back in there? They hate us!” Vee’s voice was loud.
A long, large car, the kind that old people drive, pulled into the community center parking lot. Hermann slowly climbed out, slamming the door. Two Dumpster cats shot past his feet.
“Kots!” He said. He looked at the girls. “Kids!” he said.
Moments later, they stood outside the senior center director’s door.
“You knock on her door.” Sunny nudged Esther.
Esther backed up. “No, you. She likes you better.”
Are you nuts? She doesn’t like any of us. Vee hung back.
Sunny whispered, “Yeah, but she didn’t see Esther do anything.”
Aneta frowned. “We didn’t do anything. It all just happened.“
“True,” Vee said. “Esther, you knock on the door.”
“I’m glad I’m good for something, since you guys got me in trouble.”
“We didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Sunny said, giving Esther a quick hug and darting back. “You just stuck your head out the door and wham—“
“Yeah.” Esther tapped on the office door then rubbed her shoulder. “Wham. I’m injured for life.” No answer. She knocked again, harder.
The door swung inward. The director, a tall, dark-haired woman who looked as if she would schedule when to smile into her monthly to-do list, looked down at the girls. “I am in a meeting with the mayor.” She moved to close the door.
Good, thought Vee. The mayor likes us. She brushed past Esther. “Hi. We came to apologize for the um … things … that happened.”
The director’s sour-candy-sucking expression didn’t change. “You girls certainly know how to disrupt an entire building. We’ve never had such volunteers.”
“Girls?” said a familiar voice from behind her. The short mayor, who only came to the director’s shoulder, peered around the larger woman. “Why, hello, S.A.V.E. Squad! Sissy was just telling me about the mishap.” She broke into a wide grin. “You certainly shook things up around here!”
Sissy? Vee started to grin. The director so did not look like a Sissy. A tall dwarf, like Grumpy, maybe, but not a Sissy.
“We are not in need of being shook up,” Mrs. Sissy said between her teeth.
The mayor stepped around her and out into the hall. “My sister isn’t a big fan of change.”
Sister? Weirder and weirder. The two ladies didn’t look at all alike. Kind of like herself and the Twin Terrors.
Vee seized her chance. “We’re here to ask if we could still finish our service-learning project here at the senior center.”
Behind the mayor, the director seemed to swell. “To cause more trouble? I don’t think so.” She waved her arm at them. “I accept your apology, but returning is not an option.”
The mayor, however, patted Vee on the shoulder and began to usher the girls toward the door. “Of course, Sissy.”
“Don’t call me Sissy. It’s unprofessional.”
The mayor escorted the girls out of the building and onto the steps in the sunshine. There she stopped and folded her arms across her ample chest.
“So what’s your plan, girls? My sister is pretty tough to convince.”
“I—we—” Vee tripped over her tongue and flung an agonized look at the girls. They opened their mouths with the same result.
She didn’t need this in combination with studying for the all-important math retest. A simple job, please. One to make her mom and dad and Mr. Tuttle happy. Her gaze flickered over at movement out of the corner of her eye. The curious kitten was back! Hermann hadn’t succeeded yet. The mom cat and curious kitten were back; the kitten was wavering on the corner of the opened container.
As Vee watched, lis
tening to the girls suggest projects like yard work—ew—the kitten wobbled fiercely, uttered a tiny squeal Vee heard across the parking lot, and, scrabbling for a foothold, fell into the Dumpster.
In the next breath, Vee heard the roar of the garbage truck as it pulled into the parking lot.
Chapter 10
Diving In
A string of cats streaked for the bushes.
Vee sort of saw the mayor and the girls’ faces when she screamed, “Oh, no!” and then dashed across the lot, trying to catch up with the truck as it rumbled past her, the driver nodding his head to what Vee supposed must be the radio.
“Hey!” she shouted, making it to the door and leaping up to pound on it. She heard the mayor’s horrified shriek and the girls’ screams. She knew the girls were on their way with the footsteps sounding behind her, but would any of them get there in time? The driver neared the bin where his claws of death would reach down, snatch the Dumpster with the curious kitten lost in garbage, raise it up, and—
Putting on the speed her dad called “the Vee sprint,” she darted in front of the truck. As she passed its grill, she noted the dead moths in it. I hope I’m not the latest decoration. Flapping her hands wildly, she flung a desperate look at the driver whose eyes bulged at her presence. He jerked back in his seat. The brakes squealed. The truck continued to roll. Would she get to the Dumpster before the truck flattened her? A hard bump hit her right leg. It went numb. She slammed into the Dumpster.
That would leave a mark.
She reached up, grabbed the side of the Dumpster, and bounced on the good leg. Hard.
Plan:
1. Bounce
2. Sling leg over rim
3. Grab kitten
4. Jump down
Using the momentum, she hovered halfway over the Dumpster rim. In the next second, she knew to her deepest chagrin that the principle of momentum she’d learned this week in science was going to take her farther than she wanted to go. She was going Dumpster diving whether she wanted to or not. Head. First.
The Great Cat Caper Page 4