Absolutely Alfie and the Furry, Purry Secret Page 3

  “Not a porcupine,” Alfie said, laughing too. “Call me a kitty instead, okay?”

  She was dying to tell EllRay her big—make that huge—idea.

  In fact, she was this close to doing it—but she kept her mouth shut. For now.

  And EllRay hosed the grass bits off her so they could play outside a while longer. Then they went inside for their dessert.

  Chocolate pudding.

  Just before bedtime, Alfie sidled into her big brother’s room. He was lying stomach-down on his bed, reading.

  “What comic book is that?” she asked, settling down cross-legged on the rug next to his bed.

  “It’s a graphic novel, not a comic book,” EllRay informed her.

  “Big difference,” Alfie said.

  “There is a big difference, for your information,” EllRay told her. “You don’t know.”

  “Neither do you,” she told him.

  “And neither do you,” EllRay said.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, tired of silly-arguing with him. “But I wanted to ask you something. Did you ever wish we had a pet when you were little?”

  This was the perfect way of getting his opinion about her kitty idea, she had decided. “Sounding someone out,” her dad called it. That meant getting another person’s opinion about something you were thinking of doing.

  “Sure I did,” EllRay said, not looking up. “But you’re allergic, so we never could. ‘No Pets,’ remember?”

  “Mom says I’m allergic,” Alfie pointed out. “Only I don’t think I really am. Not anymore. And anyway, we should get to decide what rules make sense around here or not.”

  “Since when?” EllRay asked, laughing.

  “Since now.”

  “Fine,” EllRay said, still trying to read. “Have it your way. Make up your own rules as you go along, and see how that goes down.”

  “But aren’t you lonely for a pet?” she asked, trying another angle. She fluffed up the rug’s tufts of wool with her fingers to make them prettier.

  “Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve got you, haven’t I? It’s enough trouble around here taking care of you, Alf. Feeding you treats. Training you not to make messes. Taking you for nice long walks.”

  “Be quiet,” Alfie told him, since she was not allowed to say “Shut up.”

  But she was laughing, too.

  “Who do I have to take care of, though?” she asked, sneaking in the serious question between giggles. “Who do I get to love?”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Alfie said.

  “Once school starts,” EllRay told her, “you won’t have time to worry about not having a pet, or about being allergic to stuff. Coach Havens is probably gonna be a really strict teacher. He’s a pretty tough coach. Good, but tough.”

  Oh yeah, Alfie thought—Mr. Havens. She’d forgotten all about him.

  That’s what even the idea of a kitty could do for a girl.

  Fix just about anything!

  And that’s when Alfie made up her mind.

  Yes, she could ask her mom and dad for permission to bring the kitten home, Alfie reminded herself. But once you asked for something big at her house, the discussions began.

  Family meetings.

  Pros and cons.

  “Cooling-off periods,” even. That meant waiting.

  Alfie hated waiting.

  And if she waited too long, this perfect kitten—her kitten—might end up going home with someone else!

  Unacceptable, as Dad might say.

  Yes, her mom and dad would get mad at her when they found out. Or worse, be disappointed in her. But life could be fair once, anyway—even if she had to break a family rule to make it fair. This kitten—“Princess,” Alfie decided instantly—needed her.

  “Operation Kittycat,” she would call it, as if her kitten-smuggling plan was the plot of one of her dad’s TV series about a spy or a bank robber.

  But this was going to be real. Alfie absolutely needed for it to happen.

  And the decision was all hers.

  She would call Hanni tonight and tell her the good news.

  “I’ll take her!”

  7

  Kitten School

  Alfie went to Hanni’s house the following Tuesday. She hoped like anything that she would somehow be able to sneak Princess home with her on Thursday, two days later.

  Operation Kittycat.

  Today, however, Hanni Sobel had plans. “It’s Kitten School day,” she told Alfie when they had settled on the laundry room floor. The scent of fabric softener floated in the air. Their legs sprawled in the sunlight that streamed through the room’s big windows.

  “Well, Princess is not a very good meow-er yet,” Alfie admitted, watching the three kittens play. “Maybe we could start with that.” She cleared her throat as if preparing to let out a meow or two.

  “I meant I’m teaching you,” Hanni said, laughing.

  “I knew that,” Alfie said. “I was kidding.” She felt her cheeks get hot.

  Hanni probably knew a lot about kitties, Alfie thought, biting her lip as she prepared for the lesson. Hanni had firm opinions about everything, it seemed. She had even given Alfie advice on doing her hair last Friday!

  “I think those twisted knot thingies that stick up would look really cute on you,” Hanni had informed Alfie that day. “Or maybe a mixture of tight braids and puffballs.”

  Bantu knots. Cornrows. Afro puffs, Alfie thought now, frowning as she remembered. Not that any of that was Hanni’s business. After all, she was white! Alfie was the one with brown skin.

  And her mom did her hair. She was the expert.

  What made Hanni such a hair wizard, anyway? It wasn’t like hers was so spectacular!

  But Alfie had decided not to tell her mom about Hanni’s random hair advice. She knew the story would not go over very well, and she wanted this two-girl daycare thing—this kitten thing!—to work. Also, she was starting to like Hanni Sobel a lot in spite of all her opinions and advice.

  Hanni laughed at her jokes—and she had a great laugh.

  Hanni was also a good sharer, and she let Alfie play with anything she wanted.

  Hanni even told Alfie she had good ideas about things to do. “You’re a good thinker-upper, Alfie,” she had said.

  It would be cool heading into second grade with a brand-new friend, even if she could be a little bossy at times.

  But maybe nobody was perfect.

  “Okay. Kitten School,” Alfie repeated, staring at the kittens.

  Princess was washing herself as if she’d been doing it for ages, Alfie noted, watching her future kitty in action. First, Princess turned her little round head and licked each striped shoulder with great care. She tried to lick her white vest without much luck. Then she licked a paw, swiping it behind her furry ear and making it go boing.

  Alfie wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think human babies could take care of themselves that fast in life. She felt proud of Princess.

  Maybe she was a kitten genius!

  Wouldn’t it be cool if Princess could learn to count—or even say something?

  “I love you,” maybe. Alfie would get EllRay to make a video of it for YouTube, getting carried away with the idea. They could even add some music. And they’d post it.

  She and Princess would be famous!

  “Pay attention,” Hanni said, sounding very stern. “Lesson number one,” she began, scooching her bottom over toward the litter box. “You gotta clean the poops out of the litter box every single day. And you have to change all the litter at least once a week, and scrub the box, too. Because of the wee-wee,” she explained.

  Huh?

  Alfie made a face as her dream of YouTube fame flew out the window. “How do you get the poops out of the box?” she asked, not having picture
d any of these icky details.

  Princess was pretty small, though. And worth it, Alfie hoped.

  “The poops kind of turn into clumps, because of the litter,” Hanni explained. “And you just scoop them out, or use little plastic bags.” She waved a slotted yellow plastic pooper-scooper in the air to demonstrate the first method of poop removal.

  Another thing to buy, Alfie thought. She pictured her painfully saved-up fourteen dollars disappearing like so many bursting soap bubbles.

  Or maybe she could just sneak a big spoon out of the kitchen and use that?

  “You put the poops into a plastic bag, close it tight, and throw it in the trash,” Hanni was saying. “Never flush any of it, or the plumber will have to come, and you’ll be sorry.”

  “Never flush any of it,” Alfie repeated, robot-like.

  “Okay. Now, feeding,” Hanni continued. “I’ll give you a little bag of litter and some kitten chow to get you started,” she said as if she were crossing things off an invisible list. “But you gotta use the small kind, or she might choke.”

  Duh, Alfie thought, fiddling with one of her pigtails. But she didn’t say it aloud, because Princess wasn’t officially her kitty yet. If she made a fuss, Alfie thought, Hanni might change her mind about giving her away. “What about milk?” she asked instead, offering Hanni another chance to be the teacher. “Kitties like milk, don’t they?”

  “Well, do you like chocolate milkshakes?” Hanni asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Alfie said.

  “Does that mean you drink chocolate milkshakes all the time?” Hanni asked. “For breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

  Whoo, Hanni could be kind of a pain, Alfie thought, wincing. “Absolutely not,” she said, mostly because she knew that was the correct answer.

  But she wouldn’t mind trying to drink chocolate milkshakes all the time.

  “See?” Hanni said, as if she had just finished teaching a lesson.

  “I don’t get it,” Alfie said. “You’re saying kitties don’t like milk?”

  “It doesn’t matter if they like it,” Hanni explained. “I’m saying don’t give your new kitty cow milk, or she might poo all over the floor.”

  Gak!

  If that ever happened, Alfie thought, there was no way she could keep Princess a secret from her parents. Or even from EllRay. Her mom’s nose was a super-sniffer when it came to bad smells in the house.

  “Would it hurt someone to take out the trash?” Mrs. Jakes sometimes said.

  “EllRay! Dirty socks in the hamper right away, please. ‘Clean Up Your Mess,’” she might add, quoting another family rule.

  “So what will my kitty drink?” Alfie asked Hanni.

  “Water,” Hanni said—as if now, she was the one thinking Duh.

  “Okay, water,” Alfie said. “And what about brushing her hair?”

  “It’s called ‘fur’ on cats, not hair,” Hanni said, ever the expert. “And you do it really gentle, because she’s so little.”

  “I’ll use a doll hairbrush,” Alfie decided out loud. “What about a leash? Can Princess learn how to walk on a leash?”

  “Nope. Never,” Hanni said, shaking her head. “Because cats won’t go anywhere unless they want to. And they hardly ever want to,” she added. “They won’t learn tricks, either,” she informed Alfie. “Unless you get some really good treats. And even then, they have to be in the exact right mood.”

  “So what do kitties like to do?” Alfie asked, trying to picture Princess living in her room.

  “Mostly play, when they’re little,” Hanni said, thinking about it. “And eat. And they sleep a lot. And sometimes they cuddle up and purr, and keep you company.”

  That last part sounded good, Alfie thought. Really good. She liked company, and her big brother was often too busy to play with her.

  “Wanna do something?” she sometimes asked him.

  “No way,” EllRay would say. “Not unless you pay me.”

  “How much?”

  “A nickel every five minutes,” he’d say.

  “Too much,” Alfie would reply. “Anyway, you should pay me, EllRay. I’m more fun than you any day of the week.”

  “Huh?” EllRay might say, still only half listening.

  He never really listened to her all the way, that was the thing. EllRay was always doing at least a couple of other things at the same time.

  So if Princess was a good listener, that would be great.

  “Okay,” she told Hanni. “I think I’m good on kitties now.”

  “I’ll give you a B+ in Kitten School,” Hanni announced. “So let’s go do something else for a change, okay?”

  “We can work on our fairy garden again,” Alfie said. The girls had already begun creating a shady little world behind the Sobels’ fish pond. They’d made pathways and lined them with stones. They made a tiny table for the fairies, too.

  “We can make the fairies a couple of little beds today,” Hanni suggested. “In case they get sleepy.”

  “I’m putting ferns on mine,” Alfie said. “To make a really soft mattress.”

  She should try that for Princess, too, she told herself, making a mental note.

  “Me too,” Hanni said. “But I’m not copying you.”

  “Go ahead and copy,” Alfie said, granting her permission.

  “I already said, I’m not copying!” Hanni protested.

  “Whatever you say,” Alfie told her, smiling as she shrugged.

  Things felt a little more even now, anyway.

  “So let’s go,” Hanni said, jumping to her feet.

  “Bye, kitties,” Alfie called over her shoulder as they went out the laundry room door. “See ya later!”

  8

  A Kitty Palace

  Alfie and Hanni were to be at the Jakeses’ house the next day, Wednesday, and Alfie had a plan.

  She was going to be in charge of this two-girl daycare club for once!

  “We’re gonna make a kitty palace for Princess,” she told Hanni first thing, her brown eyes sparkling. “In my bedroom, okay? Only it’s gotta be a secret.”

  Hanni and her parents had no idea that Alfie’s mom and dad didn’t know about Princess yet. And Alfie planned to keep it that way.

  She had to have that kitty.

  “How come it has to be a secret?” Hanni asked, curious.

  “It’ll be more fun that way,” Alfie said. “C’mon, let’s go get some boxes from the garage. My dad said I could use as many as I want.”

  Alfie’s father was a big saver-of-boxes, “just in case.”

  “You never know when a box will come in handy,” he often said, stashing away another.

  “It’s for a building project,” she had told him the night before.

  He was thrilled. “Maybe you’ll be an architect someday, Cricket,” he said, beaming.

  “This will be more like a sculpture, Dad,” Alfie warned him. She didn’t want him to get his hopes up too high—or ask to see the finished structure when it was done. He might be able to guess what it was for, and then where would she be?

  Without a kitty, that’s where.

  Not to mention poor Princess’s fate. The thought of someone else—a grouchy, no-fun old lady, or a noisy family with mean boys in it—adopting her kitten made Alfie’s stomach hurt.

  And her heart.

  “So how are we going to stick these guys together?” Hanni asked in the garage as they stacked little boxes inside bigger ones.

  “Duct tape,” Alfie told her. “It works on anything, my dad says. Here, take a roll,” she added, and each girl put a thick roll of duct tape on her wrist as if it were a giant silver bracelet. “I’m a fancy lady,” Alfie said, admiring hers.

  “No, I’m the fancy lady,” Hanni said.

  “Maybe we can both be fancy ladies,” Alfie
suggested.

  “I guess,” Hanni said. “But how is the kitty gonna climb up a bare cardboard tower?” she asked. “She’s not magic, Alfie. She doesn’t have sticky feet. She’s just a regular kitten. I mean, we have a cat tower for Domino at home, in our family room,” she added, explaining. “Only it’s made out of wood, and it’s covered with carpet so she can scratch her claws on it and climb to the top. And feel superior to everyone.”

  Carpet?

  Maybe a spare bath mat would do, Alfie thought, chewing her lip. Her mom would notice any missing chunks of regular carpet for sure.

  “I’ll take care of that later,” she told Hanni, trying to sound more confident than she was feeling. “Princess will be able to climb this when we’re done with it. My whole room is gonna be perfect for her,” she added, pleased at the idea. “Perfect for a Princess.”

  “She’ll fall and bang her furry little head,” Hanni predicted, still wanting to be the expert.

  “She won’t,” Alfie told her.

  “But she could,” Hanni said.

  “But she won’t. I’ll watch her every second,” Alfie promised. “Princess is talented,” she tried to explain. “And really smart.”

  “You don’t know that,” Hanni said, laughing. “How can you tell?”

  Hanni-the-Expert was kind of getting on her nerves, Alfie admitted silently.

  “I just can tell,” she said. “Are you gonna help me build, or not?”

  “Sure, I’ll help,” Hanni said. “I don’t care, as long as we get to do something fun after.”

  “Like make kitty toys,” Alfie said, leading the way back into the house, her arms full of boxes. “I’ve got craft feathers and string and everything. We can invent some really cool toys, Hanni. And we can even make my new kitty a little crown out of gold paper and sparkle-stones,” she added, picturing it.

  “But do you have Ping-Pong balls?” Hanni asked, still wanting to be the boss of all kitten-related things.

  “I can buy some,” Alfie said as they headed up the stairs toward her room—only to be met by EllRay and his friend Marco as they came barreling down.