CHAPTER 13

Ethan ran toward Brayden, who was lying perfectly still.

“Is he okay?” called Devin from the sidewalk. She covered her eyes, as if she was afraid to look.

“He’s fine,” said Ethan. At least I hope he’s fine.

Brayden blinked and stared up at Ethan from the ground. “Am I bleeding?”

Ethan saw the bloody knee and a trickle of blood coming from Brayden’s elbow. “Not really,” he fibbed. “Does anything hurt? Can you get up?” He helped Brayden slowly stand and limp out of the road.

Then Brayden caught sight of his scooter, which had skidded to the opposite curb. It looked worse off than he did. It had a long scratch on the side, but at least the wheels were still spinning.

That’s when Brayden started to cry.

Oh, man, thought Ethan. Here we go.

“My p-parents spent a lot of money on that!” said Brayden. He started to walk toward the scooter, but Ethan made him sit on the curb instead.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Ethan. “I’ll get it.” He pulled the scooter upright, shut it off, and wheeled it toward Brayden.

“Do you want us to walk you home?” Devin asked sweetly. “Maybe we’ll spot a Meowth along the way.”

Ethan wished she’d consulted him first on that one, but she had a soft spot for anything that was sad or injured. And Brayden looked pretty darn sad right now.

So they walked their bikes while Brayden limped along the sidewalk, pushing his scratched scooter. He sniffled and said, “Cats don’t live in trees, you know. They live in houses.”

“What?”

“You said back at the playground that cats live in trees.”

Ethan shot a glance at Devin. Can you believe this kid? he wanted to say. Even all beat up like this, he still has to be right about everything.

But Devin didn’t seem irritated. She just let him have his way. “You’re right. Cats live in houses.”

Most cats, anyway, Ethan almost said. But he’d just been struck by an idea, as sudden and powerful as Jolteon’s Thunder Shock in the middle of battle.

“Cats live in houses,” he repeated.

“Right,” said Devin. “That’s what we just said.”

“So isn’t that Mrs. Applegate’s house over there?” He pointed toward a baby-blue house with a large wraparound porch.

“Yeah,” said Devin. “But she’s at the library right now, remember?”

Ethan started jogging toward the porch.

“Wait up!” he heard Devin call. “What are you doing?”

He stopped just long enough to explain. “We looked for Max near the library. We looked in the nature preserve, because of all the trees. We even looked in the cemetery!” He shot Brayden a look after that one—he couldn’t help himself.

“But cats don’t live in trees. They live in houses! So why didn’t we ever look around Mrs. Applegate’s house?”

He left Devin with that question as he turned around and hurried toward the house. As he reached the wraparound porch, he slowed down.

“If I were a cat, where would I be?” he said under his breath.

First, he looked up. But Mrs. Applegate didn’t have any trees around her property. Good thing, thought Ethan. I’m not much of a climber.

Then he thought of that stray cat at the cemetery, the one he’d found hiding under the cement bench—the very bench Ethan had been sitting on. So he started looking under things.

He looked under the hose that was rolled up on a rack near the house.

He looked under the overturned rain barrel.

He looked under a tarp that covered a small stack of wood.

By now, Devin and Brayden had joined him in Mrs. Applegate’s yard.

“How about under the porch?” asked Devin. “Remember when we had a chipmunk living under ours?”

Ethan nodded. He took a step toward the porch, and then he heard the tiniest little mew.

Devin raised her eyebrows. She’d heard it, too. She pointed quietly to a large gap under the porch.

It was dark, full of cobwebs, and not very inviting. And Devin showed no signs of wanting to look inside.

So Ethan laid flat on his stomach, hoping the ground wasn’t wet. Then he gazed into the darkness.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he began to make out the cracks of light and uneven textures of dirt and rocks. As he squinted to see farther beneath the porch, he suddenly realized that something was staring back at him.

Two eyes slowly blinked.

And then that something released another pitiful mew.

“He’s here!” Ethan whispered. “Max is here.”

“Can you reach him?” asked Devin.

“No way. Not even close,” said Ethan.

Finding Max was one thing. Getting him out was going to be another.

Then he remembered the night at the cemetery, when Gianna had lured the stray cat toward the cage with a can of tuna.

“We need Gianna and her tuna,” he said. “I’ll bet Max is starving.”

“And Carlo with his cage,” added Devin. “Should I go try to find them?”

“Good idea,” said Ethan. “Hurry!”

Devin raced toward her bike, which left Brayden standing in the yard, looking left out and helpless.

“What can I do?” he asked.

Ethan almost told him to stay out of it—that everything was under control.

But lying here on his stomach on the ground, he saw things from a whole new angle. Everything wasn’t under control. Max could fly out from under the porch at any moment. Devin could come back and say that Gianna and Carlo were nowhere to be found.

So Ethan could keep flinging Poké Balls at Brayden, trying to make him go away, or he could offer him a Razz Berry—and take him up on his offer to help.

“Could you go get Mrs. Applegate?” he said. “Your scooter is faster than my bike. Do you think you can ride it right now—I mean, with your injuries?”

Brayden puffed his chest out a little. “I’m on it.” He wasn’t limping at all anymore as he ran across the grass toward his scooter.

And then Ethan was alone. Alone in Mrs. Applegate’s yard with a very scared, hungry cat.