Crazy Cat Kid (Crazy Cat Kids Book 1)

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  I debated whether I should go back to the party or stay in the motorhome. I had enjoyed the day with Jesse and wanted to spend more time with him but I didn’t want to come in contact with his father.

  There was a knock at the screen door. I looked out and saw Jesse staring up at me.

  “Can I see them?”

  “What?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “Unlike my father, I like cats. Can I see yours?”

  “Sure, but you have to come in through the passenger door.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they might try to get out when you open the screen door.”

  “Okay.”

  Jesse went to the passenger door and climbed in. He bent to miss the overhead bunk and came into the main area. He looked at the four girls eating their supper.

  “The gray and white one is Saltry, the tortoise shell is Daisy, the long haired orange tabby is Purple and the short haired orange is Red.”

  “Purple and Red?”

  “Yes, they are bright orange so I thought they should be named for other bright colors.”

  “Which one needs the insulin?”

  “Saltry.”

  Jesse bent over and petted her. “Poor kitty.”

  I felt a warmth towards Jesse. I may only have had a sister but it wasn’t as if I hadn't had contact with boys while I was growing up. I had male cousins, I played with boys on my street, I sat in class next to boys, and there were the sons of my parents’ friends. They had all been loud, boisterous, sloppy, and sometimes dirty. Jesse seemed different. So far he was a boy who was okay with a girl being as good or better than him at skipping rocks, he was a boy with a sense of humor, and he was a boy who liked cats. Three for three. And he read poetry, which I also liked to do. Make that four for four.

  Jesse looked around the motorhome. “There sure is a lot more room in this than in my parent’s truck camper. Where do you sleep?”

  “Up there.” I pointed to the upper bed. “My parents have the back bedroom and the table makes into another bed.”

  “Yes, the table in our camper makes into a bed too but it’s really only big enough for one adult or two little kids. That’s why Bill and I are in the tent.”

  “Do you want a pop or juice?” I asked.

  “A pop would be good.”

  I got us both a can and we sat on each side of the table. So far today we had discussed siblings, life in Nanaimo, and marriage. Not ours but Bill and Maurie’s.

  Suddenly there was a bang on the side of the motorhome. “Hey, what are you two doing in there?”

  It was almost dusk outside. We looked out the window and in the dim light saw Jesse’s father on his way to their camper. He swayed a little as he walked.

  Jesse sighed. “Let’s go outside.”

  I looked at him.

  “If we don’t he will come back and keep pounding until we do.”

  We took our pop cans and slid out the passenger door. Everyone had been busy while we were gone. Some of the tables had been taken back to the RVs and two fire rings, with screens over the burning fires, had been set up. Two men were tuning guitars and a woman was taking a banjo out of its case. Some lights had been strung in the nearby trees. It had a festive feel to it.

  I could feel the apprehension rising. Our chairs were too close to the fire.

  “Do you mind if we move our chairs back?” I asked Jesse.

  He turned to me, a puzzled look on his face. “Like away from the blaze?”

  I nodded. I could feel my face redden as I expected him to ask why. Instead he just grabbed them and pulled them back. I was grateful as I sat down and felt that I owed him an explanation.

  “I had a run in with a fire when I was eleven,” I said, showing him the scar on my arm. “This isn’t as bad as the scar on my lower stomach and I have a small one on my upper leg.”

  “What happened?”

  I took a deep breath. Sometimes just talking about it brought on a wave of panic. “I was spending a week with my cousin, Christine, on her parent’s acreage. Christine and I were making smores over a fire in their back yard. One of the logs exploded and sent large embers flying into the air. Three landed on me and one on Christine. They burned through our clothing and into our skin. We both had to go to the hospital. Christine was able to go home the same day but the doctor kept me in for three days to make sure my burns were healing and there was no infection.”

  “It must have been very painful,” Jesse said.

  “It was,” I nodded, remembering the searing pain that had gone on for hours. “Since then I have avoided fires, which was easy up until we came camping here.”

  “I don’t blame you. We can leave and go to your motorhome if you wish.”

  “No. Since being here and seeing all the campfires I’ve been telling myself that it happened a long time ago and that I am older now. I shouldn’t let it stop me from enjoying myself. This morning I had myself convinced right up until I got within a few meters of the blaze and then I faltered.”

  “So you are trying to deal with it,” Jesse said.

  “Yes. I really hate having this fear. Mom and Dad keep encouraging me but thankfully they don’t push me.”

  “What about your cousin?”

  I smiled. “I don’t know if I should admit this but I envy Christine that she hasn’t let what happen affect her life. We’d discussed it a month after and she’d told me she always liked the saying that you should immediately get back on a horse if it bucks you off so you don’t develop a fear of riding horses. When she got out of the hospital she’d asked her parents to build a fire so that she could sit in front of it.”

  “Wow. That was brave of her.”

  I nodded. “I do have a list of excuses for myself, though.”

  “Oh? What are they?”

  “I was a year younger than she so was not as mature as she was. I had three burns to her one. My burns were deeper and larger than hers.”

  “They sound proper,” he nodded solemnly.

  “They did when I was younger but now at almost fifteen I’ve been trying to tell myself that it was time I matured and dealt with the anxiety and panic I feel at seeing flames.”

  There was a lot of activity and soon marshmallows, graham crackers, plain chocolate bars, and metal skewers for the making of smores were on the table. Robin and Mel brought over a bag of small paper plates and a roll of paper towels.

  “Smores,” Jesse said.

  I nodded. “I love smores but haven’t made them since my burns.” And to make them tonight I would have get close to the fire for there was no way I expected my parent to do that for me

  “Do you want me to make you one?” Jesse asked.

  I hesitated. I had to deal with my problem because I knew that it was up to me and no one else. “I’d like to try it myself,” I said.

  “I’m here to help, if you need it.”

  My heart warmed towards this young man I had just met. He seemed so understanding and accepting.

  We stood and walked to the table. There were other items that I didn’t associate with smores. Items like chocolate and caramel syrups, peanut butter cups, chocolate chips, Nutella, graham cracker crumbs, and bread.

  I looked at Jesse. “Bread?” I mouthed. “What do you do with that?”

  Jesse shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Well, someone does. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  As the musicians played and the hanging lights made shadows in the trees, people began roasting marshmallows over the fires.

  “I’ll do the first marshmallows,” Jesse said.

  “Okay.”

  While Jesse roasted two for each of us I set out graham cracker halves on plates. I got a chocolate bar, broke it into squares and placed them on the crackers. Jesse brought over the skewer of lightly browned marshmallows. He laid two of them on a piece of cracker. I pushed down with the top cracker while Jesse pulled the skewer out. We did the same with the next two marshmallow
s.

  We went to our chairs and after waiting for the marshmallows to melt the chocolate and cool a little, we bit into the concoction. Mine tasted as good as I remembered. I felt tears gather in my eyes. I had missed so much because of my fear.

  Carol, our camping neighbour, took a sandwich iron to the table and sprayed it with oil. She put in a slice of bread then spread it with Nutella, sprinkled on some cracker crumbs, topped it with four marshmallows and covered all that with another piece of bread also spread with Nutella. She closed the iron and held it above the fire. I watched as she turned it over a couple of times. She took it off the fire and opened the top. The bread was browned. She dropped the sandwich smore onto a plate and cut it in half.

  Carol must have seen me watching because she brought the iron over to me. “Do you want to try one?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Jesse and I went back to the table and like Carol had done I sprayed the iron. Jesse spread some Nutella on a slice of bread and fit it in the iron. I sprinkled on the cracker crumbs and added the marshmallows. By this time Jesse had Nutella on the second piece of bread and placed it on top. Jesse closed the sandwich iron and went to the fire.

  “There is a screen over the fire,” I whispered to myself. “None of the embers will jump out at you.”

  I swallowed and forced myself to follow Jesse. I went slow and eventually stood a ways behind him. I was close enough to feel some of the heat.

  He looked up at me and smiled. I felt an arm around my shoulder and turned to see Mom standing beside me. She, too, had a smile on her face. I felt elated. It was a small step, but at least it was a step.

  When Jesse and I opened the sandwich maker make a few minutes later, the bread was as brown as Carol’s had been. I found a plastic knife on the table and cut the sandwich so Jesse and I could share it.

  “This is so good,” I said to Carol, while Jesse nodded his head as he chewed.

  Jesse and I experimented with the smores toppings. Jesse heated the marshmallows then we pushed a peanut butter cup into them and squashed them between cracker pieces. We placed the marshmallows on the crackers and drizzled the chocolate and caramel syrups over top. And we weren’t the only ones. I saw my parents and most of the other adults make various versions of the dessert.

  The next two hours went by fast. We sang, we ate, and we laughed. Some of the men who had been drinking were getting loud. At one point I saw Bill and Maurie melt into the darkness as they left the area.

  It was a perfect campout, just like my friends had described. Then Jesse’s dad stumbled over a lawn chair. He grabbed at one of the tables and pulled it, and the food on it, on top of himself. I hadn’t noticed that he had been drinking a lot until he stood and tried walking.

  “Oh Stuart,” Bonnie said in dismay, as everyone hurried over to lift the table and help Stuart up.

  “Leave me alone,” Stuart slurred, throwing off the hands that reached for him.

  He climbed shakily to his feet and staggered over to his camper. He was out of the range of the lights but we could hear him being sick, then the sound of him banging up the steps into his camper.

  I looked at Bonnie and Jesse. Neither of them made an effort to help him. I thought that was strange but never said anything.

  Stuart’s antics brought the party to an end. Everyone picked up their pans and bowls and other food from the table and took them to their RVs. Mom carried ours while Dad moved the table back to our motorhome. I folded our lawn chairs.

  “I’m sorry it’s ending this way,” Jesse said.

  I shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know but someone should apologize. Dad won’t and Mom is too ashamed to. Tomorrow they both will act like it never happened.”

  At that moment I felt sorry for Jesse. It wasn’t fair that he felt he had to take the weight of his dad’s actions on his shoulders.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” I said.

  He smiled bleakly and went to his tent.

  I walked slowly to our motorhome. For the second time that evening I wondered if our new friendship was about to end. My cell phone beeped. I had been so busy all day that I had forgotten about it. I pulled it out and checked the message. I found that there were three from my friends.

  Brenda’s text from this afternoon was; So, how was your second day of camping?

  Olivia asked; When will you be home again? I might be able to come visit in August.

  This last message was from Brenda; Must be having fun if you don’t have time to answer me.

  I sat on the motorhome step and answered Olivia. I’ll be here for the next few days and then we are moving to Tofino for a week or so and from there heading north to Campbell River. Should be home first week in August. Not sure of date. Depends on how soon Mom and Dad get tired of camping.

  I told Brenda about meeting Jesse and the day we spent together. She immediately came back and wanted to know everything about him. I sent a text to her about how cute he was and that he was fifteen and Metis. I also told her how beautiful his mother was and finally about his father.

  It did sound too good to be true. She texted back.

  And she was right. Me meeting a boy who was cute, funny, and easy to get along with was too good to be true. Something had to be wrong somewhere.

  I closed the outside door and went into the motorhome through the passenger door. Mom and Dad were already in their bedroom with the door closed. I dressed in my pajamas and when I came out of the bathroom Daisy was stretched out on the table. I climbed up into my bed. It was warm in the motorhome so I laid on top of the blankets and thought about my day. For someone, who this morning had wondered what she was going to do with her time, my day sure had been busy. I’d met a nice boy, I’d seen some of the sights, and I’d learned how to make different types of smores. The only down side to all this was Jesse’s father.

  Purple came and curled up on my stomach. I petted her and she began to purr. Red’s head peeked up over the side of the bed. She was on the cat house I had anchored to the bench seat. She gave a little jump and clawed her way up on the top bed with me. At home every few days she feels the need to lick my face during the night. With her rough tongue I called it getting a facial scrub. I received a good scrubbing before she went to the window at my head and looked out.

  The string of lights in the trees was still lit plus some of the campers had left their outside lights on. Red became engrossed in the movement of the trees in the wind, the shadows, and whatever else was happening out there.

  Chapter Eight

  In the morning, Mom found some ice crystals in the milk and the water bottles on the top shelf were frozen. Vegetables in the drawers had spots on them. I won’t say Mom swore but she sure came close. She again reduced the fridge temperature and set the vegetables aside for the compost.

  I looked out the window. There were a few light clouds in the blue sky. Another lovely day. Maybe Jesse and I could do some kayaking or swimming. I climbed down from my bed.

  Mom and Dad decided to go outside with their coffee and then head to the shower. Dad looked around and when he saw that none of the cats was nearby, he opened the camper and screen doors and stepped out with their coffee cups. But he wasn’t fast enough.

  “Dad,” I yelled, as I grabbed at Salty who scampered to the open doorway.

  Dad quickly shut the door in her face. Mom, towels over her arm, raised the sheet onto my bed and went out the passenger door.

  I wanted a shower, too. Would I really have to wait until the afternoon when the water in the tank would be warmer? I went into the bathroom to dress. Purple came in with me and insisted on the bottom cupboard door being opened so she could do an inspection. I was in and out of the bathroom a few times and didn’t pay attention to her. When I finished, I ran my hand over both shelves to make sure she wasn’t in the cupboard and closed the door.

  I opened the blinds. Red and Daisy jumped up on the table to look outside. There were birds in the trees n
ear the back of the motorhome and they got the cats’ interest. Their heads moved as they watched the birds flit from branch to branch.

  I got a can of cat food and opened it. This sound always gets the girls attention so Saltry, Red and Daisy lined up waiting to be fed. Saltry stood patiently while I gave her the needle.

  Purple hadn’t come for breakfast. I checked my bed, my parents’ bed, looked under the chairs then went into the bathroom and opened the cupboard door. Purple jumped out. Where had she been? I thought I had reached all the way to the back of the shelves. While Purple was eating, Daisy went and stood beside the litter box. She looked at it and then at me. Obviously, it was too full for her. I cleaned the box, took it out for refill, and set it under the table. She stepped in to use it.

  It was finally time for my breakfast. I brought out my cereal and milk for breakfast. At home I liked to alternate peanut butter on toast with cereal for my morning meal. But we hadn’t brought a toaster because of not having power. We had our generator but Dad didn’t want to use it unless necessary. It made too much noise when running. I got a bowl from the cupboard above the sink and poured some cereal into it. I added milk and sat at the table to eat. Saltry waited patiently on the floor for me to finish. As usual, I left a small amount of milk in the bowl and set it in front of her.

  I had forgotten to close the cupboard door above the kitchen sink. Purple jumped on the counter. She stood on her hind legs and extended her front paws until they touched the bottom of the cupboard. I lifted her down and closed the door to take away any more temptation.

  It was going to be a hot day so I opened the windows and vents to keep it cool. I didn’t see Jesse, Bill, or Maurie outside. Another morning of indecision as to what to do. Go out and wait for someone to ask me to do something with them or stay in and read.

  At home Saltry always claimed the top of the cat house. She liked to lay on it even though she was too big and hung over the edge. This morning Purple had the audacity to climb on it. Saltry sat on the edge of the table closest to the aisle and glared at Purple. She gave a low growl.

  Purple looked at Saltry as if to say “Too bad, I’m here now.” The tip of her tail twitched.