Chapter 11

ANSWERING THE CALL

Do you know what butt dialing is? Sometimes people call it pocket dialing.

When someone sits down and accidentally presses a button on a cell phone in their pocket, it’s called butt dialing. They call someone by mistake. Or maybe someone’s keys bump against a button on a cell phone, and it dials someone accidentally.

It happens all the time. And when the person who owns the phone hears a voice coming out of their pocket, they reach in and get it and say something like this: “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have butt dialed you.”

Well, this is sort of what happened with Edith.

She sat on Mr. Music’s cell phone and butt dialed.

Literally.

When she plopped down to wait for Stick Cat to come up with a far-inferior idea to get Mr. Music unstuck from the piano, she sat down on his cell phone.

While Edith didn’t know she sat on Mr. Music’s cell phone, she did know it was slightly uncomfortable. So she shifted her weight to change her position. And when she shifted her weight to change her position, Edith butt dialed.

She pressed two buttons on Mr. Music’s cell phone.

Do you know what the two buttons were?

The redial button and the speaker button.

When someone answered the phone and it came through the speaker, Edith jumped up and yelled, “My butt is talking! My butt is talking!! MY BUTT IS TALKING!!!”

And while Edith didn’t recognize what had happened, Mr. Music instantly did. And when Mr. Music instantly did, Stick Cat understood what happened too.

He leaped to where Edith was circling frantically to find out where the voice was coming from on her body. He grabbed her by the shoulders, calmed her spinning ways, and pointed toward Mr. Music.

“Max? Max? Are you there?” came the voice from the phone. Apparently, Mr. Music’s name was Max.

Mr. Music stretched his neck, turning his head as far as possible to project his voice toward the cell phone down on the floor. “Tony! Tony! It’s me!” he yelled. “Whatever you do, don’t hang up!”

“I can barely hear you, Max” came Tony’s voice from the phone. “You sound far away. I got your message. You said you’d be a little late. Do you need to stay home the whole day?”

“No!” Mr. Music yelled. There was the tiniest hint of desperation in his voice.

“No, I’m already here, Tony. I’m up on the twenty-third floor. I got a problem up here—and I need your help!”

“Twenty-third floor?”

“Twenty-third floor!” yelled Mr. Music. “I’m okay. But I do need you to hurry.”

“Let me take care of this customer real quick, then I’ll close the shop and come up,” Tony said. His talking got faster—you could tell he was going to hurry. And then the call ended with a click and a buzz.

Stick Cat smiled the biggest smile he had ever smiled. Mr. Music was going to be okay after all. Mr. Music rested his head sort of sideways on his shoulder. It was clear that a combination of exhaustion and relief had overcome him. He smiled slightly.

“You did it!” Stick Cat said to Edith. “You saved Mr. Music!”

Edith’s eyes opened wide. She had put all the pieces together and just now understood what had happened. She said, “Well, of course I did. I’m Edith.”

Stick Cat pointed toward the window. He knew they had to get out of there before Mr. Music’s coworker arrived. He didn’t think there was much danger, but he didn’t want them to be mistaken for strays and taken away or something. He couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from Goose.

“Come on,” he said urgently. He rubbed up once more against Mr. Music’s pants leg.

“You’re a good kitty,” Mr. Music whispered, but didn’t open his eyes. “If you’re really there.”

Stick Cat purred and then turned toward the window, preparing to sprint. “We have to get back. Fast!”

Edith heard the urgency in his voice and turned to race back to the window as well.

But something stopped Stick Cat just then.

“Oh, no,” he said quietly, and held completely still.

“What is it, Stick Cat?”

It wasn’t Mr. Music saying something—he appeared too tired even to speak anymore. It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t a movement. It wasn’t the dangerous prospect of crossing back using the clothesline.

Do you know what it was that had Stick Cat so concerned?

It was a smell.

“What is it, Stick Cat?” asked Edith again.

“Mrs. O’Mahoney,” he whispered.

“What about her?”

“She’s baking bread.”