Chapter Seven

THE NEXT DAY, I RUSH TO THE BIKE RACK again, beating Lyle there. This time he smiles when he approaches. I’m relieved to see he’s no longer limping. And while his chin is marked an angry red, the cut has scabbed over.

“You think I actually biked here today?” he asks. “Didn’t you see that thing yesterday? I’ll be walking home until I can figure out how to fix that wheel.” He’s wearing his gray periodic table T-shirt again, though it’s been washed since yesterday. The blood spots are gone. Still, I wish he would change every once in a while. The shirt makes me feel like every day could be the day of the fire.

I scan the parking lot. Axel is talking to a group of boys by the side of the school.

“Let me show you a different way home,” I offer.

“A shortcut?”

“It’s actually a little longer, but it’s a different way than Axel goes.”

Lyle looks back in their direction.

“That would probably be helpful,” he says.

I lead him around the side of the school and, when we’re sure no one’s looking, we head out into the path toward his house. This time I’m not surprised to find Frida waiting for me in the grass.

“That cat follows you everywhere,” Lyle says. I lean down to scratch her head.

“She does seem to like me,” I say, pleased. “And she just reminded me that we’re going to need to take a detour. I told my friend that I’d stop by to learn how to feed her cats. I’ll call Carmen from there, too, and tell her that I’m going to walk you home.” I’m not sure how Carmen will react to this, given that all she knows about Lyle is that I drew a picture of him on fire, but after yesterday I want to play it safe.

I point out the fork in the dirt path where Lyle should turn right to get to his house, but we continue on the same path until we reach Tabitha’s.

We find her dozing on a lounge chair. She’s wearing a purple floral dress, and three large cats are sleeping on her lap. Every time Tabitha lets out a snore, the cats move up and down like ships on a purple sea. Her lavender cat-eye sunglasses are pushed up into her hair, which is dangling down the side of the chair, and a fuzzy black kitten is batting at it with her paw.

“This is your friend?” Lyle whispers. Tabitha’s eyes fly open.

“Laney! Who have you brought with you today?” She bolts upright and cats fly in every direction.

“When you said feed your friend’s cats, you weren’t kidding,” Lyle whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth.

“This is Lyle,” I tell her. Lyle sneezes twice into his elbow.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m allergic to cats. And pretty much everything really.” He sneezes again before offering his hand. “Lyle Durand. Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Oh, pshaw, none of that formality here,” Tabitha says, waving him off. “You realize you’re talking to a crazy old cat lady after all, don’t you? You can call me Tabitha, and you don’t need to bother with last names and Ma’am’s and all that. Come on in kids.” She opens the screen door.

I’ve been stopping by Tabitha’s house ever since I was old enough to walk to school on my own, but continue to be a bit taken aback by the strange mix of floral perfume competing with an acidic odor every time I step into her house. In the living room, the usual multi-colored pile of cats stretches on the sofa. Everything else is a shade of purple. After years of creating art with crayons and pastels, I can name each shade—mulberry wallpaper, periwinkle rug, indigo coffee table, radiant violet bricks around the fireplace. Lyle raises his eyebrows and starts to whisper something, but I put my finger to my lips. Tabitha doesn’t notice. Chatting away, she leads us into the kitchen.

“You’ll need to stop by once a day to refresh their food and water,” she says, deftly maneuvering through the kitchen to reach a bowl of keys on the counter. Lyle and I don’t follow her. I can’t imagine making my way around the kitchen as the floor is covered with ceramic cat bowls.

“Bright Purple with Ruby Red Sparkle,” I say under my breath.

“Huh?” Lyle turns to me.

“I’m just trying to see how many shades of purple I recognize,” I whisper. “The cat bowls are the same color as one of my crayons.”

He puts his finger to his lips, imitating my earlier gesture.

Each bowl has a name written on it in dark purple paint. Daisy, Bella, Sadie, Frida . . . there are too many to count.

“Found ’em!” Tabitha says, holding up a key on a fuzzy purple chain. She notices our hesitation at the entrance of the kitchen. “Oh, you’ll get used to this,” she says, waving her hand at the cat bowls.

I look at the clock behind her, a magenta cat with huge eyes and a ticking tail.

“Do you mind if I call Carmen and tell her I’ll be late?” I ask.

“You’ll have to use my cell,” Tabitha says. “No land line here.” She hands me the plum-colored cell phone.

As I explain to a baffled Carmen that I’ll be walking Lyle home, Tabitha continues to show Lyle what to do.

“So, I’ll be home in a little bit,” I say, watching Tabitha show Lyle how to unlock the door to the porch.

“The cat door is in the kitchen, but you will use this door of course. It sticks sometimes, so you really have to pull,” Tabitha says, shutting the door behind her.

“Did you hear me?” Carmen asks.

“What? Oh, no, sorry,”

“When you do get home, I really need to talk to you.” Her voice sounds strange, lower and quieter than usual.

“You do?”

“Yes. I have to go. I love you, Laney.” The line disconnects.

“Carmen?” I hold the phone in front of me. Did Carmen hang up on me? What could she want to talk about? “I love you, Laney” rings in my ears. I know Carmen loves me but she isn’t one to throw around those words lightly over the phone. And she normally ends our calls with “I’ll catch you later, Laney.”

“Laney, come listen to this. I need to show you where I’ll hide the keys!” Tabitha calls from the porch. I try to push the phone call from my thoughts. Carmen’s probably concerned after our conversation about Lyle yesterday.

Tabitha lifts up an amethyst-colored flower pot in the corner of the porch to show us where she’ll hide the keys. Apparently Lyle will be helping me with the cats. I guess we’re going to be friends after all.