| |
Ivy sat on Angus’s bed and licked her right paw ten times. When she deemed it wet enough, she wiped it over her right ear and the side of her face. She licked her paw five times and wiped her face again. Two licks, wipe face. Two licks, wipe face. Two licks, wipe face. Then she repeated the ritual on her left ear and face. Her experiment quickly revealed that the combination of ten licks, five licks, two-two-two licks would remove the odor of the cat food from her face.
When she was satisfied that her head was sufficiently lacking in scent, she stretched out her tongue and began to groom her neck. This move was a bit tricky, and she lost her balance and flopped over on to her back. Mrs. Clark had been dazzled by the crystals Angus had given her, though she didn’t realize they had originated in a parallel world. She had attached several of them to the cat’s collar. The extra weight around Ivy’s neck made it challenging for her to correctly calculate the true density of the cat body.
Comfortable in her new position, belly full of food, and nested snuggly in the superhero comforter, she considered taking a nap. She yawned and shut one lazy eye while the other regarded Angus’s feet jutting from the closet.
“That was a delicious meal,” said Ivy. “When’s the next one?”
“Ivy, you ate cat food,” said Angus’s feet.
“No, I didn’t. Did anyone ever tell you that you eat like a slob? You dropped an entire drumstick on the floor. Thanks, by the way.”
“Don’t mention it. You’ll starve if all you eat is that diet food Mom feeds you. She’s been trying to help Sir Schnortle lose weight for years.”
“Then please, keep dropping food.”
“This closet is a mess. How does Mom expect me to find anything in here?” said Angus.
Ivy, tummy content like she’d never known, closed her other eye. “This world of yours is not what I expected. I thought it would be more like mine.”
“When was the last time anyone cleaned out this closet? Why is there an earring in here?”
“Your mom’s kitchen machines are so last century. I didn’t think your world would still have them. Gran told me bedtime stories about food in the olden days, but I had no idea how tasty it would be.”
“Look at this postcard my dad sent me from his trip to London. I mean, seriously. Paddington Bear in a red double-decker bus. Like, how old was I?”
“It’s certainly not the most primitive place I’ve ever been. That last jump—now that was primitive.” Ivy yawned and stretched her cat body into an impossible length.
“And this one ... when was he in Omaha?” Scratching noises, and the closet began to emit crumpled photo images of famous monuments, mountains and lakes, cities and pastoral scenes. Within moments, a pile of paper blanketed the bedroom floor. “Hah! I remember this trip! I ran all over the ferry deck on the way to Vancouver Island!”
“It’s just, your world isn’t as advanced as I’d expected. How were you even able to invent the World Jumper in this primitive place?”
Angus’s tousled head popped out of the closet. “Did you say primitive?”
“Well, not primitive so much as ... old-fashioned. Archaic. Outdated.”
“What are you talking about? We have tablet computers and smart phones and video game systems and semi-automatic Splerf guns!” Angus tossed the earring at the cat and missed her entirely.
“You don’t have to get all sensitive about it. My world is a bit more ... advanced ... technologically. That’s all. Your world is nice, though.”
“Nice! Did you say nice? My world is nice? My world is so much better than nice! It’s awesome!”
“Well, the food is good,” said Ivy.
“Sheesh. She eats one chicken drumstick and some diet cat food and thinks it tastes good. The food on your world must totally suck.”
“You have no idea.”
Angus’s head disappeared into the closet again. “Do you have nachos?”
“Na-what?”
“Nachos? Corn chips covered in salsa and dripping with cheese, and sometimes your mom makes you eat the beans and the meat to make it ‘healthy’.”
“Never heard of them.”
“What about popcorn? Or Hawaiian pizza? Caramel sauce and frozen yogurt?”
“In my world we take a pill.”
"Yeah, my mom makes me take vitamin supplements every morning.”
“No, I mean, that’s all we do. We don’t eat food. We take a pill. All the vitamins and minerals, protein, calories, everything your body needs for the day crammed into one little pill.”
“So no broccoli, green leafy vegetables, or lima beans? Sweet!” said Angus.
“No grilled cheese, hamburgers, ice cream, or chocolate chip cookies,” said Ivy.
“Yeah, I guess that would suck,” said Angus. “My mom’s a great cook. You’ll like it here.”
The cat snuggled into the comforter and began to purr as she imagined the varieties of food she’d be eating in this world.
“Oh wow! I had forgotten all about this. You’ve got to see this!” Angus’s feet kicked excitedly.
Ivy was feeling more lazy than tired, and her curiosity, always a force in her, was especially strong in this cat body. She stretched, sprang from the bed, and sauntered to the closet. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light.
Angus was rummaging through a large green metal box. “What is it?” she asked.
“My memory box. Dad gave it to me when I was a little kid. He brought it back from one of his business trips. I remember he said I should put my special treasures in it. I forgot all about it!”
Ivy rubbed the side of her face against the box three times. When it smelled safe, she poked her head into it.
“So? What’s in it?”
She saw a pile of old birthday cards, an airmail envelope with a stamp from Hong Kong, and a photo of several children with their arms around one another’s shoulders. A Big Ben magnet and a Washington State ferry ornament were tossed in beside crumpled drawings of spaceships and cars, broken crayons, and an old horseshoe. The teeth of an animal with very sharp teeth were strung on a necklace.
“It looks like a bunch of junk,” said Ivy.
“Yeah ... I guess it looks that way to you,” said Angus. “But to me ... see this horseshoe? It’s kind of neat all on its own, but the best thing about it is remembering the trip I took to California to see my dad’s uncle when I was little. He had this ranch, and I rode on the back of his truck, and we drove the tractor together. His neighbor let me feed the horses and gave me this horseshoe. It’s not the horseshoe by itself that’s so special.” Angus sighed. “My dad’s uncle is dead now. But when I look at this horseshoe, it’s like I am there.”
“It’s the memory,” said Ivy wistfully.
“And this one,” said Angus holding up a snow globe of an elephant emblazoned with the logo for the Museum of Natural History.
“Completely unrealistic. What is an elephant doing in the snow?”
“Ivy. It’s supposed to be a mastodon.”
“Hah! Total fail. They don’t look like that at all.”
Angus peered at the snow globe. “You’re right. The tusks are out of proportion to the body. And those legs are much too short. Anyway, what was I saying ... I don’t remember the museum at all. I was probably five or six at the time. But I remember my dad and me eating hotdogs with sauerkraut at this food truck outside the museum. Speaking of foods you should try, that’s a flavor you’ll never forget.”
“Or a memory. I can’t even remember what my dad looks like.” Ivy jumped onto the window sill and gazed through the glass.
Angus glanced at the dejected cat and closed the box. “I’ll look through this later,” he said and carried the box to his desk in the corner of the room. “When was the last time you saw your dad?”
“I don’t even remember. I’ve been jumping between animal bodies for so long. It’s probably been months.”
“You must really miss your family,” said Angus. “I missed my mom and dad the first night I was in the pirate world.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen my parents, I sometimes forget about them. At first, I tried not to think about them—it made me too sad. But now, I can’t even picture their faces in my head when I want to think of them.” Ivy turned and looked at Angus. “Do you think I’ll ever see them again?”
Angus touched the cat’s back with a tentative finger. “May I pick you up?” he asked.
“I think you’d better,” she sniffed.
Angus gently scooped the cat into his arms and stroked her head. “You’ll get home. We’ll find a way. I promise.”
Mrs. Clark’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Angus! Where are you? Are you in your room? Have you seen Sir Schnortle? Where is my sweet booboo kitty?”
There was a brisk tap on the door before it opened. Mrs. Clark blinked.
“You’re holding Sir Schnortle? He let you pick him up? That’s wonderful!”
She reached out for the cat and took it from Angus’s arms. Mrs. Clark held Ivy like a baby and began cooing to her. “Help me,” mouthed Ivy before she disappeared out of the room in Mrs. Clark’s embrace.
“Do your homework,” Mrs. Clark called back over her shoulder. “And then get to bed. You need a good night’s sleep for school tomorrow.”