Then, as he crossed Prospect Street, he caught a flash of movement.
A cat! Nothing but a stupid cat, like the one that was always hanging around with Angel. His fright vanishing, Zack stepped up onto the curb and started down the last block.
Now the cat was moving alongside him, making no effort at all to stay out of sight.
But strangely, though he could see the cat clearly, moving over the leaves that had fallen from the huge canopy of branches that spread over the lawns along Haverford Street, it was no longer making any sound at all.
The rustling had stopped.
It was as if the cat were somehow floating over the leaves, not even disturbing them.
He stopped.
So did the cat, turning to face him.
Zack took a step toward it. “Shoo!”
The cat only crouched, its tail twitching.
“Stupid cat,” Zack said. “Get out of here!” He charged toward it, raising his arms and waving them.
But instead of springing off into the darkness, the cat launched itself straight at him, and a second later Zack screamed as he felt the claws sink deep into the flesh of his face. As his howl of agony rose, the cat dropped away, and as Zack clutched at his face, it darted off, to disappear silently into the shadows.
His face burning with pain and his eyes stinging with tears, Zack ran the rest of the way home, charging up onto the front porch of his house. Opening the door, he lurched inside, then slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he caught his breath.
“Zack?” he heard his mother say from the living room. “Honey, everything OK?” Feeling tears streaming down his cheeks, Zack moved toward the living room. “It was a cat,” he said, his voice quavering. “Angel’s cat! It tried to kill me!” Joni Fletcher gazed at her son, whose face was twisted into a mask of fear and pain. “What?” she asked, rising to her feet. “What cat? What do mean, it attacked you?” “My face,” Zack wailed. “It practically ripped my cheeks off!”
His mother was looking at him with bewilderment. “Honey, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your face.” Zack put his hand to his cheek.
The stinging was gone.
He looked at his fingers.
No blood.
Turning, he looked in the mirror that hung on the wall over the table by the front door.
His face looked perfectly normal — not even a scratch, let alone the deep slashes that should have been there, given how agonizing the pain had been when the animal’s claws had sunk into his skin.
He gently touched his cheek with his forefinger.
Nothing — no pain at all.
But a few minutes ago—
He turned back to the living room, where his father had joined his mother, both of them on their feet, looking at him uncertainly. “I’m not lying,” Zack said, his voice uneven. “It happened right down at the end of the block.” “What happened?” Ed Fletcher asked.
As best he could, Zack recounted everything from the moment he’d first heard the sound of rustling leaves as he was walking home to when the cat launched itself at his face.
“You’re sure it actually attacked you?” Ed Fletcher asked when his son was finished.
“I’m telling you, Dad!” Zack exclaimed, his voice rising in response to the doubt in his father’s voice. “It tried to kill me!” “Well, it certainly didn’t succeed, did it? Seems like it did a better job of scaring you than it did of hurting you.” Zack’s eyes narrowed and he turned truculent. “You don’t believe me.”
Ed Fletcher spread his hands as if to ward off his son’s angry words. “I’m not saying nothing happened — I’m just saying it doesn’t seem to be as bad as you think it was.” “And even if a cat did attack you, why would you think it was Angel’s?” his mother asked. “They don’t even have a cat. Marty’s allergic.” “As allergic as he is to work?” Ed Fletcher interjected, engendering a dark look from his wife.
“It’s Angel’s,” Zack said. “It follows her everywhere. It’s all black and—” “You’re claiming you recognized a black cat at night?” Ed Fletcher broke in.
“I did!” Zack was nearly shouting now.
“All right, all right!” Ed said, once more raising his hands as if to fend off his son’s anger. “I’m just not sure I would have even seen it, that’s all.” “You’d have seen this one,” Zack said. “It’s huge, and its eyes were glowing, and—” “All right, that’s enough,” Ed Fletcher said, his tone imparting his doubt as much as his words. “Even if we agree that this cat attacked you — which, frankly, I doubt — I don’t see why you think it belongs to Angel. They don’t even live around here, and—” “It followed me!” Zack blurted, before considering the implication of his words. But it was too late.
“Followed you from where?” Ed Fletcher asked. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Zack?” “No, I—” Zack began, but his father didn’t let him finish.
“Why don’t you tell us exactly where you were tonight, and what you were doing?” “I was just hangin’ out with Chad and Jared and Heather! And Angel was there, and her stupid cat, and—” “Why do you keep saying it was Angel’s cat?” Joni broke in.
“Because it’s always with her! I’m tellin’ you—”
“I’m going to call Myra,” Joni said.
She picked up the phone, dialed, and when she hung up a few minutes later, her eyes had taken on the same look as her husband’s.
“Zack, the Sullivans don’t have a cat,” she said to her son. “So whatever happened tonight had nothing to do with your cousin. Now, what really happened?” Seething, but knowing there was no use arguing with both his parents, Zack turned away. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing happened, all right?” He headed up the stairs, and when his mother called after him, he didn’t answer. A moment later he was in his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
As he got ready to go to bed, Chad Jackson was still laughing about the sight of Angel Sullivan running terrified through the night. For him, the best part was when she’d tripped and fallen on her face. He could still remember how much it had hurt two years ago when his bike skidded out of control, across the asphalt in the street right outside. He’d had scabs for weeks, and when his mother insisted on putting iodine on the scrapes — He winced even now, just thinking about it.
Leaving his clothes piled in a heap on the floor, he climbed into bed and was just reaching for the light switch when his eyes fell on his backpack, full of textbooks, and he remembered the math homework he hadn’t done.
Well, no point in doing it now — he’d either do it in the morning or make Seth Baker let him copy his. Too bad Seth hadn’t been with Angel when they followed her, moving through the woods, where she couldn’t see them, making noises. The only thing that would have been better was if Seth had been there too, getting so scared he’d wet his pants.
That would have made it perfect — if they’d been able to figure out a way to give Seth as good a scare as they’d given Angel.
A stupid name for a fat, ugly, stupid girl.
So stupid she even liked Seth Baker!
And stupid enough to fall for the sounds they’d been making too.
Grinning, Chad softly repeated the hooting sound he’d made in the woods that night. It didn’t actually sound like an owl — at least not any he’d ever heard — but it had been good enough to send Angel running for home. He was about to repeat it, and improve on it, when he heard something.
Something from outside the room.
He listened, and heard nothing.
He decided he must have been wrong.
Relaxing, Chad reached for the lamp on the bedside table.
The sound came again, but this time he recognized it. It was the same sound he’d just made.
