Into the Wild(7)

“Anytime, anywhere, kiddo,” Cindy said. “Remember that, next party. I’ll get you home before midnight.” She winked.

Julie snorted. “I’m not going to any parties. Mom barely lets me sleep over at Gillian’s.” Besides, at this rate, she was never even going to get invited to any.

Cindy waved her hand, bangles smacking together. “Really, anytime you need a ride, just call and I’ll come. That’s a royal promise. You can’t break a royal promise.” Blowing a kiss, Cindy sped out of the driveway. She disappeared over the hill in a cloud of exhaust.

“Gross,” Julie said as she inhaled exhaust. That pretty much summed up the whole day. From sneaker to Cindy, this day was horrific. Shouldering her backpack, Julie trudged to the back door.

How could she explain she’d been distracted from class by thinking about a person who, according to all legal and historical documentation, never existed? If only she knew what had happened to him, maybe his absence wouldn’t hurt so much. Today it felt as if she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She dumped her backpack and jacket on a kitchen chair. A cat leapt onto the chair and dusted her bag with his tail. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. A fat, orange cat, he wore a brand-new, doll-sized maid’s outfit. “You went to Toys ‘R’ Us,” she said.

“Did not,” the cat said. “I found it.”

“Mom told you not to leave the house.”

“I have slain ogres!” he said. “I have advised kings! I have frightened robbers with the beauty of my song!” Boots reared onto his back legs, cleared his throat, and swung into an off-pitch rendition of “O Sole Mio.”

“Very nice,” Julie said. If her father were here, would she have human brothers and sisters in addition to a five-hundred-year-old feline? Not that she didn’t love her adopted brother, Boots, but it would be nice to have a sibling who could go out in public and who she could admit existed.

Mid-aria, Boots stopped singing. “Day didn’t go well?” he said.

“Let me put it this way: when Gillian’s mom cooks, she doesn’t have to close the doors to make sure the gingerbread men don’t run outside.” Gillian had no idea how lucky she was.

“It could be worse,” her brother said. “Look at me—how many girl cats do you think I’m likely to meet with my intelligence, wit, and fashion sense? No one told me I’d be dooming myself to the life of a lonely bachelor when we escaped the Wild. And don’t even say I could date a non-talking cat.” He shuddered. “It would be like you dating a chimpanzee.”

Maybe it will come to that, she thought glumly—by the time Mom allowed her to date, chimpanzees might be the only ones who didn’t think she was a total freak. Julie helped herself to Oreos.

“Aren’t you going to feed me?” Boots asked, curling around her ankles.

“It’s not dinnertime,” Julie said. “Mom said no afternoon meals.”

“You’re eating.”

“It’s a snack.”

“I want a salmon snack.”

“Okay, if you can work the can opener, you can have a salmon snack,” Julie said. Her brother gave her a dirty look and, flicking his tail in the air, stalked out of the room. He ruined his dignified exit by tripping over his maid apron.

After an hour of Simpsons reruns, the phone rang, and Julie leaned across the couch to answer it. On the other end, Gillian said, “Was it a nightmare?”

“She didn’t hit anything,” Julie said. “I’d call that an improvement.”

“You know, you could just borrow an Invisibility Cloak from your linen closet,” Gillian said. “Cindy can’t pick you up if she can’t see you.”

Julie sighed. She liked that Gillian was okay with the Wild, but she wished she would take it more seriously. Gillian just didn’t get that the Wild was only safe because it was small and weak. “I can’t use any of the items. If I use a fairy-tale item, I could be completing a fairy-tale event. If I complete a fairy-tale event . . .”

“. . . the Wild will grow,” Gillian finished. “I wasn’t serious. Sheesh. It wouldn’t kill you to lighten up a little.”

If the Wild were an ounce stronger, Mom would have locked it in the cellar instead of allowing Julie to be its keeper, no matter what happened to their plumbing. It was a responsibility, not a game. But maybe Gillian couldn’t understand that. She wasn’t Rapunzel’s daughter. She didn’t have the essence of fairy tales living under her bed. Julie changed the subject. “How was band?”