Caterpillar Summer, page 9
Cat felt a glint of hope, but Chicken crossed his arms.
“Come here,” Cat said. She leaned toward him. “We can look for sharks later, I promise. I want to ride my bike before it gets too hot.”
His face softened. “Maybe we can read my library books, too.”
“Definitely,” said Cat.
Before she left, she said thanks to Lily. Downstairs, she wheeled the yellow bicycle from the driveway. Harriet said her house was nearby. Cat didn’t know which house exactly, but maybe she’d be lucky and Harriet or Neddie would be outside.
She pedaled slowly. The houses on Harriet’s block were low to the ground, painted brightly, and had a friendly look. She spotted a purple house with a garden jammed full of plants and intricate sculptures. Seven kinds of wind chimes dangled from the awning and a pair of Neddie-size rain boots stood by the door.
Cat was making up her mind about knocking when a woman came out of the garage and wheeled a recycling bin to the curb. She had lots of freckles. When she saw Cat, she smiled widely. “Hey, are you waiting for one of my gremlins?”
Cat smiled. “I wanted to see if Harriet could ride bikes. I’m Cat.”
“Hello, Cat! I’m Mrs. Kincaid. Your grandma told me you were visiting. I’ll get Harriet.”
Harriet came out of her house barefoot, blinking in the sun. Her hair stuck up in the back. “Hey,” she said to Cat.
“Hey,” Cat said back. “Want to go with me to the store?”
“To Willis General?” asked Harriet. “Let me get my shoes on.” She returned in a minute holding her sneakers. She was smiling by the time she finished tying them.
“Takes me a minute to wake up, sorry about that.” She went in the overstuffed garage and returned a few minutes later wheeling a red ten-speed. The bike was so tall, it didn’t look like Harriet could get her leg over the seat.
“Your bike is huge,” said Cat.
Harriet adjusted her helmet. “Technically, it belongs to my brother Walt.”
Harriet sprinted down the driveway. Just when it seemed the bike could race down the street on its own, Harriet jumped on. She wobbled for a terrible moment, but stayed upright.
Cat pedaled to catch up. They looped around downtown and coasted past the library before Harriet veered into a narrow alley. Cat followed her. They leaned their bikes against the wall.
They walked around the corner to a glossy green door with gold letters spelling out Willis General. A bell jangled when Harriet pulled the gold doorknob.
“Hey there, Harriet,” said the woman behind the counter. Her skin was dark brown and her hair was in a tortoiseshell clip.
“Hey there, Ms. Willis,” said Harriet. “This is my friend Cat. Her grandparents are Dr. Stone and Ms. Lily.”
“Amanda Stone’s daughter?” asked the woman. “It’s nice to meet you, Cat. I’m Louise Willis. My Shonda went to school with your mama. We sure do miss her around here.”
Cat paused. It was weird to think of strangers missing Mom.
After a long moment, she finally remembered her manners. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Ms. Willis pointed at a stack of lime-green flyers. “Are y’all going to enter the contest?”
“I think so,” said Cat.
Ms. Willis beamed. “That’s wonderful. Take a pencil from the jar on the counter if you need one.”
Cat took a flyer. “Thanks.”
The girls browsed the aisles. They could have spent days there without seeing everything. In the first three rows were taffy barrels, glass jars overflowing with a rainbow of candy, racks of seed packets, soap liquids and powders, spatulas and shiny silver tools, and a hundred different types of pens. The door jangled as people came and went. Ms. Willis’s sweet voice chatted with everyone like she’d known them forever. Maybe she had.
Past the postcard rack was the counter with the box for the entry forms. Cat chose a stumpy pencil.
“My mom said to get toothpaste,” said Harriet. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared around an aisle.
Cat had almost finished the form when something tickled her leg. She looked down and saw the scruffiest face looking back, a small dog that apparently had been assembled from leftover dog parts. Its legs were short but its paws were huge, and it had a long body with a fluffy, wagging tail. Its coat was hairy—mostly white with brown spots. One ear stuck up and one hung down. Its tongue was way too long and hung out even though its mouth was closed. Cat reached down. The dog rolled over and let Cat rub its soft belly.
“What a good girl,” whispered Cat.
“Hey! Whatcha doing with my dog!” Cat looked up quickly. The dog flipped herself to standing.
At the end of the aisle was that boy from the dunes. John Harvey, with the floppy hair. Cat straightened up.
“Stop messing with her,” he said. His voice had that hoarse sound to it.
Cat frowned. “I didn’t do anything!”
The boy crossed his arms. “Come here, Dixie,” he called. The dog shook herself, tags jingling, but didn’t budge.
“Dixie, come!” said the boy.
Dixie wagged her tail and looked at Cat with a quiet grin, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. Clearly, she was a dog with her own opinions.
“What did you do to her?” demanded John Harvey. He said it loud enough that shoppers turned and looked at Cat.
There was movement at Cat’s side. Harriet was there.
“She didn’t do a thing to your dog, John Harvey Dawson. Why are you completely awful?” asked Harriet, her fist clenched around her shopping bag.
John Harvey’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”
“Cat’s my friend,” said Harriet simply.
It wasn’t the time for smiling, but Cat snuck a little one anyway. She had a friend on the island. It was official.
“Why do you have that form?” he asked, nodding at the green paper in Cat’s hand.
Harriet narrowed her eyes right back. “Why do you think?”
“Seriously? You’re thinking of entering?” he asked. He wore the same snarl he’d had on the beach.
Cat scowled. “Not thinking about it. Doing it.”
John Harvey’s mouth dropped open for a second and then he started fake-laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, that same doubled-over laughter that the older boys on the beach had laughed at him.
“Yeah,” Cat found herself saying. “And I’m going to win.”
Harriet’s eyebrows popped up for an instant, but she squashed them down into a normal expression. “Yeah!”
John Harvey stopped laughing. “Doubt it. I’ve got four years of trophies at home and they’d be right lonely without this year’s. I know how to catch anything and everything.”
“Well,” said Cat. “Maybe you’ve lost your touch, seeing as you can’t catch your own dog.” She wheeled around and strode to the door, with Harriet close behind.
Once they were back in the alley, Cat leaned on the wall. She had to catch her breath.
“That . . . was . . . amazing!” Harriet shouted. “When you walked out like that! I would pay a million bucks to see the reaction on his dumb face.”
“He’s nasty,” said Cat.
“He’s got three brothers and each is worse than the one that came before,” said Harriet. “My mom says they don’t have enough eyes on them. My dad says they’re trouble.”
John Harvey definitely seemed like trouble. Trouble on the beach and trouble in the store. Trouble wrapped up in that sneer when he’d bragged about his trophies.
“At first I wanted to enter for fun,” said Cat. “But now I want to win. He’s not in charge of the contest, and he’s not the boss of the island.”
The door jangled open and John Harvey stomped past the alleyway. Happy little Dixie trotted behind him.
Cat turned to Harriet. “He was making that up, right? He hasn’t really won for the last four years straight?”
“Nope,” Harriet said.
Cat breathed out. Of course he hadn’t won a contest all those years in a row. He was talking big to try to make someone else look small.
“That’s a relief,” Cat said.
“Oh,” said Harriet, shaking her head. “I meant no, he wasn’t making it up. He was telling the truth. He wins every year.”
Cat had been puffed up from anger, but Harriet’s words shrank her down to size. She’d made a big promise against a nasty kid, and she didn’t even know how to fish.
“My mom will only be here on weekends. How am I going to learn enough to beat John Harvey?” Her silly fishing dream was crashing around her like the waves of the Atlantic. It would be so embarrassing if she showed up and didn’t catch a single fish.
As they rode away from downtown, Cat thought about the contest. She thought of Mom teaching her to fish, of Macon joining them. She thought of standing up to John Harvey. She was going to show him, and not in the way sweet, kind Caterpillar from the books would do. She wanted to learn everything there was about fishing so she could take that trophy from him and smile while she did it.
Harriet skidded to a stop at Macon and Lily’s driveway. “I can help. I don’t know how to fish, but we’ve got a garage full of gear.”
“That sounds great,” said Cat. How hard could it be?
“We should start right away so you have lots of time to practice,” said Harriet. “Tonight?”
“Definitely!” said Cat.
They made a plan to meet at the pier. Harriet ran with the too-big bike, then leaped on and rode away.
Meeting in the evening was tricky because it would change Chicken’s bedtime schedule. He was picky about routines. But earlier today, Lily had helped, and maybe she could help again. It was worth a try. After all, it wasn’t every day Cat made a friend, gained an enemy, and entered a fishing contest.
Cat wrote out directions for Lily, filling an entire page with her small, loopy writing. She’d explained everything, including how to give Chicken back scratches. She underlined the part about double checking that he brushed his teeth.
Lily studied the paper, nodding.
Chicken pulled at the hem of her shirt. “Don’t go.”
No matter how much time she made for Chicken, he always wanted more. The entire afternoon they’d looked through binoculars in hopes of a shark sighting. They’d spotted several, but they were all imaginary. Chicken insisted their chances would be better if they sailed the green laundry basket into the waves. Sometimes his imagination went too far, but Cat was almost positive he’d been joking. Either way, they’d stayed dry and safe on Macon and Lily’s deck.
Cat leaned down to talk to him in a whisper. “Promise I’ll be back soon.”
He studied her face, thinking. “Will you read an extra book tonight?”
“Of course,” said Cat, hugging him. She stood at the door, hesitating. She’d triple-checked the list, but what if she had forgotten something?
“We’ll manage,” said Lily kindly. “Don’t make Harriet wait.”
Cat looked at the clock. She was going to have to hurry.
She hugged Chicken once more and then bounced out the door, down the steps, and toward the pier. Harriet was there, waiting—fishing pole in hand and a pile of gear at her feet.
“Dad says the tides are changing,” said Harriet. “So it’s good timing.”
Cat examined the stuff. “Is this all your dad’s?”
Harriet shook her head. “This is my brother Walt’s stuff.”
“Nice of him to let us borrow it,” said Cat.
Harriet looked sheepish. “He’s at camp, so he doesn’t exactly know. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She held up a sliced hot dog in a zipper bag. “Bait.”
They picked a spot in the middle of the pier. Cat pushed a chunk of hot dog on the hook, then paused. “Do I kind of fling it or what?”
Harriet scrunched her forehead. “I’m not sure.”
Cat pushed the button on the handle of the reel. The line sank into the water and drifted sideways.
Harriet looked down at the water.
“Hello, girls.” Both Cat and Harriet turned to see John Harvey, smirking, with Dixie at his feet. “Fishing? Or should I say trying to fish?”
“Don’t worry yourself,” said Harriet.
“How come you’re everywhere we go?” asked Cat. “Are you following us?”
“It’s an island, did you notice? You can expect to see the same people. That’s how it works,” he said. The girls ignored him. “What are you all using for bait?”
“Hot dog,” said Harriet.
“Hot dog! Ocean fish don’t eat hot dogs,” said John Harvey.
“Oh, yeah?” said Harriet, glaring. “Cat’s already caught three big ones.”
John Harvey squinted disbelievingly. “None in your bucket.”
“We released them,” said Cat, thinking fast.
“Obviously,” added Harriet.
John Harvey pointed to the end of the pier. “That’s my lucky spot. Don’t even think about horning in.”
Cat rolled her eyes. He walked off, Dixie trotting behind.
“He’s such a worm,” said Harriet, shaking her head. “We have got to figure this out. Cat, do you feel anything pulling?”
Cat shook her head.
The waves whooshed below. After a few moments, John Harvey whooped.
Harriet groaned. “I can’t look.”
He pulled a fish over the railing, cut the line, and dropped it in his bucket.
“It’s a big one!” he called over to them. The girls looked away.
Cat felt a tug on the line. She turned to Harriet excitedly. But when she reeled it in, there was no fish. And the hot dog was missing, too.
“I guess ocean fish do eat hot dogs after all,” Cat said. She pushed another chunk of meat on the hook and dropped her line.
As the sky darkened, they heard John Harvey whoop again.
Harriet frowned. “He’s hogging all the luck. Let’s try again tomorrow.”
They walked toward the houses together.
“Tomorrow my mom will come fishing with us,” said Cat. “She has more trophies than even John Harvey.”
“Cool,” said Harriet. “She can help us.”
They made plans to meet tomorrow and said good-bye at Macon and Lily’s driveway. Harriet walked backward, waving, until she disappeared around the corner.
Cat was still smiling when she walked into the kitchen. Lily and Macon were having tea at the counter.
“Where’s Chicken?” Cat asked.
Lily smiled proudly. “He fell asleep when I was reading to him in the guest room.”
Cat hadn’t expected that. He must be feeling comfortable with Lily. That seemed like a good thing. She would check on him later.
“Cat, your mom called,” Lily said.
She’d probably been on the road a while. “That’s great. Is she almost here?”
Lily shifted in her seat. “She wanted you to call.”
Cat picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hey, honey,” said Mom when she answered. “It’s not going to work out for me to come this weekend.”
Cat’s insides sank. “What? Why?”
“The college is having a reception for me. I have to be here for it. I wouldn’t have enough time to get to you and get back here.”
“But I really wanted to see you.” Cat needed Mom, couldn’t she see?
“I wanted to see you, too,” said Mom. “And Chicken. He cried when I told him.”
Poor Chicken. He’d never been away from Mom so long; neither of them had.
“But you promised you would teach me to fish.” Cat’s voice cracked; she was trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry,” said Mom. “Work comes first.”
Cat was quiet. She knew that work came first. But sometimes it felt like Cat came last.
“Listen,” Mom was saying. “You’ll have to take care of your hair.”
And that was another thing. Cat closed her eyes. “Mom, I don’t know where to start.”
“You have your conditioner and comb, right? Take your time and work out every tangle. I mean every single one.”
“But what about my braid? I can’t do it myself,” said Cat. She’d tried before, but she couldn’t reach. Plus, her arms got too tired.
Mom sighed. “Do two ponytails instead of a French braid. Maybe braid each one. You can do that, right?”
Maybe. But Mom knew Cat liked a French braid best. “I guess.”
“You’ll have to make it work, Cat. Find a video online and ask your grandma to help.”
No way. When Cat was small, Daddy had combed and braided her hair. After he died, Mom took over. It had taken months for her to learn to do it right. Lily couldn’t learn in a day, even if it was something Cat wanted—which she did not.
“I’ll handle it,” Cat said finally.
“I better run,” said Mom. “Everyone’s waiting for me. Love you.”
Cat disconnected. Now that Mom wasn’t on the line anymore, the tears wanted to come. She sniffed.
“You shouldn’t give her a hard time,” Macon said. “She has a work commitment—a big honor. You should be proud of her.”
Cat flinched, like the words had bitten her. “I am proud.”
Lily gave Macon a pointed look and then turned to Cat. “It’s okay to be disappointed. Doesn’t mean you aren’t proud.”
Macon took his mug to the sink. “Maybe she can give you fishing tips over the phone.”
He didn’t understand. She needed Mom. Fishing tips over the phone wouldn’t give that special side-by-side time.
Lily seemed to read Cat’s expression. “I’m sure the two of you will figure it out.”
“I’m heading to bed,” Cat said. She said good night and clomped upstairs. First, she checked on Chicken in the guest room, who lay on his back with his arms and legs spread out straight. No wonder he kicked her so often, if he wanted to sleep that stretched out. She decided to sleep in the very center of the bed since she didn’t have to share that night. Her eyes traced every bump and crack of the ceiling.
Her thoughts turned over on themselves until they were a tangled mess. Mom couldn’t teach Cat to fish long distance. If Cat backed out of the contest, John Harvey would laugh at her for quitting. But if she showed up and didn’t catch a single fish, John Harvey would laugh at her for that. She was tired of coming in last. She couldn’t let that happen.
