Devilish by Maureen Johnson

Author:Maureen Johnson [Johnson, Maureen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101578711
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2007-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

twenty-one

When I got home, I tried Allison’s number a few times, but she didn’t answer. Joan was out, my father left a message that he had to go into school for some kind of reception for a visiting mathematician, and my mother was at the restaurant. It was dark, and wind was causing one long, low branch of our big oak tree to bump and scratch against the window.

I slumped in front of the TV but couldn’t concentrate on anything. Of course, I wasn’t worried about any pact I’d made, nor did I have any intention of showing up at Lanalee’s stupid event and chasing my ex-boyfriend—now my best friend’s boyfriend—around in circles all night. I had gone along with the whole thing as much as I felt I needed to, and now it was done. But I wasn’t feeling well. I was achy and tired and my skin was warm. It had been a long day.

Crick was relentlessly pacing in front of the door, looking at me anxiously.

“Okay,” I said, pulling myself with great effort from the sofa. “Walk. But then Jane is going to bed, okay?”

He hopped from foot to foot, like a tiny Irish step dancer.

Crick was too dignified for a leash. We called it a walk, but really we just opened the door and let him trot out. But when I opened the door, he didn’t trot. He sat and stared in mortal terror at the fifteen or so cats that were on our porch. Then he hid behind my ankles.

The cats themselves were calm and still, some draped on the railing, others sitting primly. I recognized quite a few of them. Gray Betty from two doors down. Angelface from across the street. Hamlet, the kitten from the house that the Brown drama students were renting. The cats all looked up at me, their curious eyes glowing gold and green in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

They didn’t answer. Because they were cats.

This was deeply odd. I wasn’t sure why the Cat Club had decided that our porch should be the rendezvous point for the night, but it did give me the uneasy feeling that something small, furry, and dead might be involved.

There was no way that Crick was going out there. Cats terrified him. A cat had jumped on his back once and ridden him like a camel, digging its claws in for support. I quietly shut the door, and Crick retreated to his special safety zone behind the television. This was fine by me. I was growing more exhausted with every second. I could barely drag myself upstairs, put on my pajamas, and get into bed.

My head began to spin the moment it hit the pillows. I had never been so relaxed in all my life. My bed had never felt so soft, my sheets so cool. I started to fall asleep so deeply, it actually felt like my head was falling through the pillow and into the mattress….

I barely jumped when I noticed the man on my bed.

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