three
A door slammed somewhere down the hall and Sophia jumped. This was the best and worst part of my job. She was a cute little girl with brown ringlets and enormous eyes that skittered around the room.
“It’s okay, just another class going to lunch.”
She stared at me for a few long moments, then took another bite of her sandwich.
When I met her at the beginning of the school year, I knew something was off. I’d had shy students before, but Sophia cowered in the corner and always kept her back to the wall. She immediately took me up on my offer of eating lunch in the classroom, but it was a month and a half before she said a single word.
I couldn’t point to visible bruises, malnutrition or any other obvious signs of abuse, but the little girl’s behavior was enough for me. The way she flinched at sudden movements and wore long sleeves even in warm weather told its own story. I wanted to contact the authorities immediately, but administration said there wasn’t enough evidence. Every day at lunch I chatted with her. They were one-sided conversations, but I hoped she would open up before long.
The school’s resource officer poked his head in, jerking his chin toward Sophia in question. I shook my head and he left, a frown furrowing his brows. Oscar was a kind, older man who worked as a detective for years before transferring to the school. Probably in his fifties, with salt and pepper in his short cropped coils, but he kept his body fit. I could tell he’d seen things no one should ever witness. He agreed with me about Sophia. Something at home wasn’t right. We watched over her, helped her feel safe in every way we could, but until she opened up, neither one of us could do more to help.
He’d met me in the parking lot that morning.
“Heard you had quite the ordeal last night. Y’alright?”
“I’m okay. Shaken a bit, but the officers assured me there’s no reason the perpetrator would come after me. They want me to come to the station and work on a composite.”
He nodded. “I doubt he saw you. Would’a been too focused on his task.” He shook his head. “Drug deal gone wrong, most like.”
Neither man had looked like an addict, but the only thing I knew about that was from movies and TV, and that was clearly unreliable. “That’s what they said.”
“Keep your windows and doors locked and you’ll be fine.” He chuckled. “Those cats of yours would probably scratch his eyes out if he tried messin’ with you.”
I smiled at the thought. Most of my rescues were former ferals who ran and hid when they heard anything unfamiliar. I doubt I could rely on them for protection.
I thought about the strange animal that watched from the treeline. At first I assumed it was another cat that Whiskers was carousing the neighborhood with. Then I saw the red reflection from its eyes and realized it was much larger than a cat. Maybe a big dog.
I can see enough without my glasses to putter around my house, and after witnessing the murder, I left them off for the rest of the night. I did wish I’d grabbed them to get a better look at what brought Whiskers home. The food and water I put out were gone that morning, so I decided to put more out for it when I got home.
Sophia was staring at me when I refocused, so I launched back into the story I was telling her about looking for Whiskers. “He’s doesn’t usually try to get out, so I was scared he wouldn’t find his way home. Lucky for me, he found a friend who showed him the way.”
“A friend?”
Her voice was so low I almost couldn’t hear her. I nodded. “I’m not sure who the friend was. I thought another cat maybe, but it seemed too big for another cat. Maybe a dog. Whatever it was, I’m just glad it brought Whiskers back to me.”
The bell signaled the end of lunch and she hadn’t spoken again, but I counted that day as a victory. She’d said something! Out loud! Like taming a feral cat, progress was measured in minute degrees.
I made it through the rest of the afternoon with half a brain. The other half focused on thoughts of Sophia, the murderer, and the mysterious critter in my backyard. By the time I’d finished for the day, I was exhausted. I slumped into the seat of my RAV4 and let my head fall back.
Startled awake by tapping on my window, I put my hand over my heart and yelled, “Jesus, Oscar, you gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m heading out.”
I turned the car battery on and rolled down the window. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
“You’ve had a long day. Want me to follow you home?”
I smiled. “No, thank you, I’ll be okay.”
He hesitated, his lips pressed into a line. After a long moment, he nodded. “Okay then. Drive safe.”
“I will.”
Before he thought better of letting me go without an escort, I cranked the engine and pulled out. I didn’t live far, but I went past the turn for my house and into a drive through. I was sure the cats would flay me for being late with their dinner, but I needed to eat, too.
I pulled into my driveway with half of my fries and drink gone. I gathered my things, locked the car, and made my way to the door with keys in hand. My huge orange tabby, Sir Purrs-a-lot, stared at me from the living room window. As I slipped my key into the lock, he wailed like he was starving.
“I know, I know. I’m coming. You aren’t going to starve because your dinner is two hours late.”
I waded through a mass of swirling bodies, lashing tails and plaintive meows. My hands shook slightly as I reached for the cabinet - they hadn't really stopped since last night, but I'd gotten better at hiding it. I set what was left of my dinner beside the sink and got to work picking up empty dishes and pulling various medicines and food out of the cabinet dedicated to cats.
By the time I had everything ready and placed bowls back into their places on the kitchen floor, everyone had lined up and most waited patiently. The kitten I'd added recently sang the song of her people loudly to make sure I wouldn't forget to feed her. After making sure everyone was at the right bowl, I moved to the sink. My hands dripped soap into the sink with small plops, the running water forgotten as a glowing red eye stared at me from the backyard.
It had to be Whiskers’ friend. Maybe a bobcat? It was too far off the ground, though. Bobcat in a tree? I stared at it while my mind puzzled out what I was looking at. My hands itched and I realized I’d been staring so long the soap was drying. I rinsed quickly and grabbed a spare bowl and a can of food.
I sat on the back step while I opened the can. If the sound didn’t lure them closer, the smell of stinky tuna would. Staying low, I set the bowl halfway between my door and the tree line and sat on the stoop.
“Come on, it’s okay.” I spoke softly with a higher tone. Something told me I’d need to pull out all my taming tricks for this one—if it even could be tamed. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Come eat. I’ll stay right here.”
I got a slow blink for my trouble. The rustle of leaves marked its slow descent to the ground, but the eye reflection was still impossibly high, even for a Maine Coon or Norwegian Forest Cat. Too big even for a bobcat. Could it be a panther?
I stuffed a laugh so I didn’t scare it. I remembered my uncle’s story of seeing a panther in the woods. Only in his southern accent it was p-aa-n-tha. He swore he’d seen it with his own two eyes, but there’d never been a confirmed sighting in Tayki county. Or any of the adjacent counties, for that matter.
Only one eye reflected. Had it lost the other? Poor thing. I couldn’t make out any other details. It never came closer, and the night was too dark, my porch light too dim.
Eventually, I saw the eye disappear, as if the animal turned. The crackle of leaves and snapped twigs marked its departure.
I sighed. “Okay, I’ll try again tomorrow.”
My knees creaked and a grunt helped me stand. I sighed again and retreated to my cold hamburger and watered down drink.