32

The Big Oops

“MAX! Get up, we’re late!”

Max opened his eyes, confused. He felt warm, soft fur and looked down to see two kittens snuggled next to him.

Stu yawned and dove his nose back into the blankets.

Scout opened one eye, blinking, confused . . .

Max remembered and smiled. “Oh yeah, hey there, little buds. Almost forgot I broke you guys out last night.”

He had stayed up late putting the finishing touches on his level. It was almost perfect; just one last problem to fix before they submitted.

The main character was stuck in a “T” pose. It looked terrible, but Max knew how to fix it. He had just fallen asleep before he’d finished implementing the change.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

“Max? Are you even awake?” Min pounded on his door again.

“Yeah! Okay, I’m coming!” Max grabbed his bag, homework unfinished (again). No time for that. No time even to change clothes. He’d hardly gotten himself up and out—still had one hand around the doorknob—when he heard a tiny sound coming from his feet.

MEOOOOOOWWWWWWWW?

Max froze.

The two wobbly little kittens had followed him to the door and were now looking up at him expectantly.

“Oh no. I forgot about you guys!”

There was no way Max could sneak them back downstairs now; everyone was waiting outside. He tried to figure out what to do, but he was still groggy from sleep and couldn’t come up with a solution . . .

Max knelt down next to the kittens. “I have to go to school now. You’re gonna have to stay here today, okay? Can you guys promise to be good?”

Scout yawned. Stu reached up and gave him a playful boop.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Max smiled and stood up. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just don’t pee on anything!” He pulled himself to his feet. “Well, not anything important.”

Then he yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind him. “Coming!”

Stu got up and took a long, luxurious stretch, his mouth opening wide, tongue on full display. “That was a great nap.”

Scout couldn’t help but yawn again. “Seriously. How awesome was it to have our own bed warmer? I’ve never been so comfy.”

She followed her brother back to the big warm spot where Max had just been sleeping. “Aaaah. I could get used to this place.”

Stu licked his paw and wiped his face clean. “Mmmm-hmmm,” he murmured, content. He looked around this new place. “It’s not as big as the downstairs, but there are a lot more things to mess around with in here.”

He was right. Max’s room was full of toys, and Stu and Scout took it upon themselves to sniff them all. Action figures from movies and comics cluttered on the shelves. Max’s computer monitor was lined with mini figures he collected from his favorite TV shows, and even his bed was littered with a mass of prized plush figures.

Max was a skilled collector of cool stuff, and he had what his dad called a great eye. He was proud of his menagerie of awesome.

On his desk, one figure stood out apart from the others: it was a limited-edition statue of Noxious, the main character from Demon Souls, the game he had played more than any other. Only five hundred had ever been made, and you could tell his was unique. Noxious held up a clear crystal sword and shield, the best gear you could get in the game.

Max had stayed up late the day it was released, and at 12:01 a.m., he’d begun constantly refreshing the sale page online until the BUY button lit up.

BOOM.

His parents weren’t too happy when they learned he had borrowed their credit card to make the purchase—he’d been grounded for a month and had to clean out his life savings paying them back—but he didn’t care. He still had Noxious, and his friends—the ones that he’d told, anyway—were so jealous.

So what if this was his birthday present for the next two years?

WORTH IT.

And that was exactly what Stu thought, when he began to rub his furry cheek on the edge of Noxious’s crystal sword . . .

Stu’s morning went on from there, just like this:

Eight a.m.: explore.

Nine: Pounce on all the tempting sparkles and shiny spots on the floor—and everywhere the sun makes them—as it comes through the window.

Ten: Stalk the creatures on the bed, approaching each one slowly, giving it a tentative poke with a paw.

Eleven: Sniff. Boop. Move on. Repeat as needed.

Noon: Nap.

Scout’s morning unfolded a little more slowly than her brother’s. She took in the perimeter of the room, casing the joint.

Being a climber by nature, she spent a good part of the morning sizing up the figures on the shelf with increasing curiosity.

“You think I can make it up there?” she asked her brother, her eyes on the shelf.

“No way,” Stu replied, knowing it didn’t matter what he said. If Scout wanted to get somewhere, Scout found a way to get there.

Always.

“Hmmph,” Scout said, mildly annoyed. “I’ll show you.”

She knew the shelf was too high, but she saw a small table near it and began to work what was sort of the cat version of a word problem out in her head.

What that actually looked like, to an outsider, was this:

The kitten stared, measuring the distance with two cat eyes, wiggling her butt with increasing confidence until . . . she exploded upward . . . leaping . . . curving through the air . . . and landing awkwardly on the table.

A jar of colorful pens Max kept on the table crashed to the floor.

“Oops,” Scout said, but she was already looking back up at the shelf. She could definitely make this jump . . .

“Can’t make it up there? I’ll show you,” she muttered as she wound up and launched herself at the shelf.

Scout’s aim was perfect, and she landed, almost gracefully, on the shelf, taking her place among Max’s prized figures.

“Ha!” she taunted Stu. “Easy peasy!”

Stu looked up, a plushy in his jaws. “Mmmfph hmmph,” he said through a mouthful of collectible.

“What’s that? You’re saying, Wow, Scout, you’re the best leaper in existence?” Scout grinned. “I graciously accept your praise, brother.”

Stu snorted.

Scout set out exploring the shelf, sniffing each figure as she picked her way carefully between them. Her cat balance was still developing—and a couple figures toppled to the ground as she squeezed her way to the end of the line—but she figured it out.

Satisfied for the moment, Scout settled down into the shape of a tiny loaf on top of a tin box of collectible cards and enjoyed her perch.

Stu had thrown most of the plushies off the bed by now and was preparing to pounce down on a green zombie that was rumbling on the floor.

It had motion sensors and had started squirming, mumbling, “BRAAAAIINNNSSS.” Stu growled and double pounced, scratching and biting the zombie, batting it around the room.

“Not getting my brains!” he shouted.

Circling the zombie, he bumped into a trash can, accidentally knocking it over.

An old half-full can of Game Juice rolled out, purple liquid slowly oozing onto the floor. Stu shoved the wriggling zombie right into the puddle and watched as it began to soak up the spilled energy drink. . . .

After a second, it stopped moving.

Stu approached, sniffing, to confirm the kill. It was true. He had vanquished his foe. He licked the purple slime. “Ugh, gross.”

Scout laughed from her perch—then yawned.

Within minutes, both kittens had collapsed into sleep.

The sun moved slowly along the far wall as the rest of the afternoon passed.

Scout stayed in her perch up on high—snoozing atop two curled paws—until she opened one eye wide enough to see the sun hit the statue on Max’s desk.

The crystal weapons sparkled.

Scout sat up, staring intently. “Stu, you gotta see this,” she said.

But Stu was still napping, only his tail visible from beneath Max’s bed.

“Whatever,” Scout said to herself.

She considered the leap to the desk. It was pretty far, but she figured she could make it. She gathered herself and gritted her teeth . . .

Then she jumped . . .

This time, her aim was off.

She tumbled through the air and landed on Max’s keyboard.

Max, in his rush, had left his level up and running. He’d opened a “level submission” window, checking the deadlines before he fell asleep . . .

Scout scrambled to get her footing.

“WHOOAOAHAHAHAHAAHAOH!”

She twisted and struck out with all four paws, and through some twist of kitten chaos, Scout managed to press the perfect combination of buttons on the keyboard.

The “SUBMIT” button lit up, and a message flashed on-screen: “Congratulations, your level has been received!”

“Huh?” Scout watched the screen . . .

But she wasn’t through.

She scrambled to regain balance and slid right into Noxious, teetering dangerously near the edge of the desk.

“Watch it—” Scout scrabbled but slid right off the desk, alongside Noxious. They both hit the ground hard.

Scout rolled to her feet and sprinted away from the loud crash Noxious made when he landed.

“RUN FOR IT!”

By the time Scout stuck her nose out from beneath the bed, she had recovered. Stu poked his head out from beneath Max’s bed.

They were fine.

Noxious, not so much.

Crystal shards were scattered across the floor.

Before they could investigate, footsteps approached . . .

The door swung open.

“I’m back, guys!” Max said, but his smile quickly turned into a look of horror as he viewed the destruction. “What did you—?”

“Oh no,” he said when he saw his sticky, ruined zombie. Noxious was in ruins. The sad stub where his shattered crystal sword had been snapped off. “No, no, no . . .”

Stepping around the spilled purple juice, Max followed the trail of damage up to his desk and looked at the screen . . .

“No. No no no—!”

He dropped his backpack and stared at the computer. “That’s impossible!” He read the message on-screen. “No. No way. This can’t be happening!”

But it had.

His level, unfinished and broken, had been sent to the game developers. You only got one submission. All his work, all his friends’ work, was for nothing.

“What have you DONE!!!” Max turned and shrieked at the kittens, who were now cowering together in the shadowy corner beneath his reading chair. “GET OUT OF HERE!”

The kittens panicked and tore past Max through the open bedroom door.

They disappeared down the hall.

Max sank to his floor, heart pounding, face in his hands.

“I wish I’d never found those cats.”