The Cat, the Cash, the Leap, and the List

By Sue Campbell

Ten-year-old Martha has leadership skills. At least, that’s what her parents say. Her cousins, Sanjay and Anand, say she’s bossy.

When Martha secretly adopts a very pregnant cat from a garage sale free box right before her cousins come for a long visit, it puts a serious kink in her carefully laid plans for summer. That

• Language: English
• Publisher: Root Word Books
• Release date: May 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578476131

Book preview

1

Arrivals

Martha knew it was a bad idea the second she’d had it. Now was not the time for such a crazy scheme. In less than an hour, a jet with her cousins on it would be touching down in Portland. She’d been waiting months for this. Well, years, actually. She’d have her cousins staying at her house for six whole weeks! Forty-two days. One thousand and eight hours.

But here she stood in some stranger’s driveway, a cardboard box at her feet, and a preposterous plan formulating in her mind. A plan that could—no, would—get her in big trouble.

The box moved.

All the sides of the box top were folded together, creating a small rectangular opening in the middle. For the second time, Martha saw a little nose push against it.

Martha took a deep breath and marched up the junk-filled driveway. There was a red wagon with no handle, a pile of stupid Disney princess dolls, a dresser missing a drawer, and a super-ugly lamp shaped like a lion with a sign taped to it that read: Works! $10!

She stopped a good ten feet from the house, where a woman sat on the porch with a radio blaring. She was too tan and had a long giraffe neck.

Martha tried to swallow her anger before speaking.

Ma’am? I’m taking that cat. She stated it boldly to try to prevent the woman from telling her to ask her parents first.

Okay, great, the woman said. Apparently, she wasn’t going to put up a fight.

Um, does she come with anything? Like toys or a crate?

The woman turned down the radio, just a little, before answering, Nope. But she’s free.

And the sign says she’s pregnant?

Yup. I can’t do kittens right now. No time. I’m moving.

But does she have any food?

Nope. Ran out yesterday morning, the woman shouted over a noisy radio commercial.

All the blood rushed to Martha’s face. Seriously? You haven’t fed a pregnant cat since yesterday?

The woman frowned. It seemed like she didn’t like being challenged by a ten-year-old. Are you going to take her or not, little missy? she snarled.

Martha hesitated. She knew she had to get home right away so they could pick up the boys from the airport. She knew her parents would flip if she brought home a pregnant cat just before they had to get in the car.

The woman sat back a little and said, Ah, I’ll just take her to the shelter.

No! Martha almost yelled. I’ll take her. She drew a deep breath. It might not be the right time—in fact, the timing couldn’t be worse—but what choice did she have?

Martha had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling at the woman about how awful it was to put a cat in a free box at a garage sale.

Go on, then, said the woman. She turned the radio back up again, even louder than before.

Not sure what else to say, Martha turned around and walked back to the cardboard box. It had a few tiny holes in it that looked like they’d been poked with a screwdriver.

The box was too big for Martha to lug the five blocks home. She’d have to take the cat out and carry her.

The sun was burning off the clouds of the June morning, and it was getting hot. She wanted to take off her hoodie, but instead, she unzipped it most of the way, then crouched down and carefully opened the box. A large, fierce-looking gray-striped cat with yellow-green eyes gave Martha a startled look and an angry meow. Undaunted, Martha quickly scooped her up by grabbing the cat under her front legs, the equivalent of cat armpits.

The cat did not smell good. At all. But Martha had expected this.

It’s okay, little mama, Martha cooed. I’m bringing you to live at my house, and you’re going to love it. I’m really nice. I’ll take good care of your kittens, too.

She stuffed the big-bellied cat down the front of her hoodie, zipped it back up, and held the cat firmly against her body. Instantly, she felt sharp claws dig into her flesh. She flinched.

It’s going to be okay, I promise, she whispered.

She stood up, and without looking back, set off for home. She heard the woman shout after her, No returns!

As if Martha would ever allow the cat to go back to that monster.

When she was out of sight of the house, she craned her neck to look at her watch. She didn’t dare let go of her grip on the mama cat.

She was late—big-trouble late. She set off as fast as she could, which unfortunately, wasn’t fast at all. By the time she passed Mrs. Foster’s big green house with the wraparound porch, she was sweating. The cat hissed and wriggled. Martha held her tighter and tried to walk faster. Her house came into sight and she exhaled in relief. Her parents were not outside. Her eyes flew to the large front windows. No expectant faces peering out at her. Good.

As she approached the side door, she took a deep breath and whispered into her chest, "Okay, shhhhhh! Be very quiet. You can meet everybody later." She pinned the cat to her body with only her left arm and waited a second for the cat to complain about the new arrangement. Wincing at the pawing and scratching on her belly, Martha then used her right arm to open the screen door and slip inside.

The screen door shut loudly behind her before she could catch it. Rats.

Martha! her mom called from upstairs. Martha grimaced.

Yeah, Mom? She felt the cat’s body go rigid, as if she was listening, too.

We’ve got to go!

I know, I’m sorry!

"Meet us outside in one minute! We can’t be late! We have to get all the way through security to meet them."

Okay!

Martha hurried to her bedroom and slammed the door. The mama cat let out an angry meow. Not daring to let her down yet, Martha pulled the quilt off her bed with one hand and threw it into the closet, which was stuffed not just with regular clothes and dress-up clothes but also yards of fabric, dozens of balls of yarn, and her entire collection of wing-tip shoes.

I’m making you a cozy spot to rest! whispered Martha.

The cat showed every sign of bolting, so rather than gently tucking her into the nest, Martha plopped her on top of the pile of blankets and slammed the closet door. I’ll be back soon! she whispered at the closed door.

She looked wildly around the room for the list. She wanted to show it to Sanjay and Anand as soon as she saw them.

Her cousins lived in Minnesota and she only got to see them a few times a year. She often railed against her parents and aunt and uncle at the injustice of it all. Once, in third grade, she’d sent her aunt and uncle a certified letter begging them to move to Oregon. Cousins should get to grow up together! Especially when the oldest cousins were just six weeks apart in age and the youngest cousin had amazing chubby cheeks on a little stick body.

If they all lived in the same place, they could be together all the time. Not just to open Christmas presents and sneak extra snowflake cookies from her aunt’s stash of desserts in the pantry. And not just for the five days most summers when Martha visited Minnesota and they tore around the boys’ neighborhood on bikes, getting bitten up by mosquitos. (That was why Martha didn’t want to move to Minnesota. She was allergic to mosquito bites. Hers always swelled into alarming blisters.)

Having the boys visit for six summer weeks was definitely a step in the right direction. And she’d made a list of all the fun they’d have so they wouldn’t waste a second. She spotted her green notebook (it was on the floor mostly buried under a damp towel), grabbed it, and hurried out to the car. She’d just have to add the mama cat to the list.

Sanjay stared at the fasten-seat-belt light, willing it to turn off. The muffled, crackly voice of a flight attendant came over the loudspeaker. The only part he could make out was Welcome to Portland, Oregon. The flight from Minneapolis took only four hours, but somehow it seemed harder than sitting still at school all day. Probably because at school there was little chance of the kid next to you having to use an airsick bag. Sanjay was just grateful that his annoying little brother managed to get all the puke in the bag and none on him.

At last, the seat belt light flicked off.

Sanjay hit Anand in the shoulder.

Hey, Anand growled back. He still looked a little green.

Get ready. Get your stuff, said Sanjay, then he sprang from his seat, stood on it, opened the overhead bin, and grabbed his small rolling suitcase.

Hang on, boys, said a flight attendant. I’ll lead you two off last.

Sanjay let out a loud breath and began swatting at the name tag on his suitcase. Then he double-checked that his cycling magazine—and, more importantly, the long white envelope tucked inside of it—was safe in the front zippered compartment. His parents had put him in charge of all their spending money for the trip because he was the oldest. Anand didn’t even know he had it.

Finally, the crush of people moved down the narrow aisle. Sanjay was glad to see the last of the guy with the handlebar mustache who’d been across the aisle from them and kept tapping his foot the whole flight, keeping time to whatever was playing on his gigantic headphones.

Get your bag, Sanjay ordered. Anand scrambled to retrieve his backpack from under the seat in front of him. The hard part of the day was over. Now Anand could be his auntie and uncle’s