The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller Page 10

  “Hey cupcake,” he said jauntily, “What you doin’ tonight? You want to come to a party? Just you, me… and my boys.” He cupped his balls suggestively.

  Crystal clutched her schoolbooks defensively and hurried away without a word.

  Wally’s mocking laughter followed her down the hallway.

  ***

  “Hey there, Mrs. Cuddles. Long time no see.” It had been weeks since Felicia was scheduled to feed the rabbit. She’d been too distracted by the dramatic changes in her life to visit on her off days like she used to.

  She unlatched the cage but as she reached inside the rabbit reacted in panic. Leaping away from Felicia’s hand, she darted frantically from corner to corner, banging into the sides of the cage in a desperate bid to escape.

  “Hey. What’s wrong, little girl? It’s me. Felicia. You remember me. I’m your buddy. It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten— Ow!”

  Felicia yanked her hand from the cage. A thin stream of blood ran down her index finger where the rabbit had bitten her. The back of her hand was covered with dozens of raw red scratches where the rabbit had gone on a kicking frenzy.

  The bite was deep and painful. Felicia squeezed her throbbing finger to contain the bleeding, surprised by how quick and sharp a bite the cute little bunny had delivered.

  “Really, Mrs. Cuddles? I thought we were friends.”

  She replayed the scene in her head, trying to recall something she might have done to provoke the attack. Anything that might have been different from her previous visits with her furry friend.

  But deep inside she knew exactly what had triggered the attack. Something she could not change.

  Things will never be the same between us, my little friend. Opening the cage she tossed some food inside and quickly latched the door.

  Then she hurried away to nurse her wound, without telling anyone what happened.

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  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  25

  “A cat?”

  A shiver ran up Sparrow’s spine.

  What is up with all this fucking cat bullshit? Now one’s attacked Oogie? Leaving him so fucked up he’d be better off dead?

  “Yeah. It’s pretty fuckin’ weird, ain’t it?” Wally took a toke from the joint in his hand and passed it to Sparrow.

  Sparrow accepted it, but for the first time ever in his life he felt a twinge of guilt for smoking it. After all, it had come from Oogie’s stash. His final harvest. If they wanted free weed after this batch ran out, they’d be forced to take over where Oogie left off. To find a secret spot in the woods and start a garden of their own.

  In the woods. The woods where Oogie had his fucking eyes scratched out.

  “What kind of fucking cat could that to him anyway?” Sparrow asked. “You don’t think it was the same cat that…?”

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me? That mangy little housecat couldn’t do shit.”

  “He nailed you, didn’t he?” Sparrow argued. “And he was there when Marky got snake bit in the shed. It’s like… like he lured us into a trap.”

  “Really? A fucking cat was smarter than you two boneheads? I guess I can buy that. But he didn’t attack Marky, did he? A snake did. And he only got his claws on my family jewels ‘cause I had him cornered and was trying to bash his fuckin’ head in. He took me by surprise, sure. But that was nothin’ like what happened to the Oogster. That had to be a fucking bobcat at least. Maybe even a mountain lion.”

  “No way, dude. If it was a mountain lion he’d be dead for sure. Maybe a baby one, I guess. Do the baby ones hunt, you think?”

  “You fuckin’ idiot.” Wally shook his head in annoyance.

  “No, seriously. The nurse told me the tooth marks was too small for a cougar.”

  “That’s cause she is a cougar.”

  Sparrow laughed, coughing out a lungful of smoke. “Ya know, I been thinkin’.”

  “I never would have guessed.”

  “No, seriously,” Sparrow said. “What if it wasn’t really a cat? What if it was a person pretending to be a cat?”

  “What!?”

  “Like the leopard men of Africa. They dress up in leopard skins and use special weapons made to rip your flesh like leopard claws.”

  “Dude, you been watching too many old Tarzan movies.”

  “No, I’m serious. What if it was somebody with a grudge?”

  “Asshole, Oogie said it was a cat. He should fuckin’ know. It was right in his face. Literally.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “No doubt it was a bobcat. They’re vicious little fucks.” Wally sucked the joint down to its final half-inch. Sparrow reached for the roach to grab a final toke. Wally made like he was handing it over but at the last second flicked it away. “I know one thing. Things are getting hinky around here lately. I’m not goin’ nowhere without protection.”

  “What? You gonna get a piece?”

  Wally grinned and lifted the front of his shirt. The scuffed bakelite grip of a pistol showed above his beltline, tucked into his pants.

  “Whoa.”

  Wally pulled it out and held it up proudly.

  “A hundred bucks from my niggah in Riverside.”

  Sparrow eyed it enviously. “What is that, a 45?”

  “Fuck your 45s. This is a genuine military surplus Romanian Tokarev. This little mad dog shoots high-powered machinegun rounds.”

  “Damn.” Sparrow reached for it, but Wally pushed his hand away.

  “Next cat that crosses my path will not live to regret it. Nine lives, nine rounds. Game over, kittycat.”

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  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  26

  Felicia scrolled through the Big Cats website, anxious to move up in the feline hierarchy. Being a Scottish wildcat was fun, but the taste of power felt more like an appetizer than a main course. She remembered what Granny told her about growing her power gradually, but wished she could be a lion tonight. Or maybe a Siberian tiger. Something that could tear up the last three remaining Wallyites in one magnificent slaughter.

  Two down… three to go. Oogie’s gone. And so is Marky. That leaves Wally and Sparrow and.... one more. Who is the other one?

  Oh well. I’ll figure it out. It’s just a matter of—

  “Felicia.”

  Shit. She clicked her mouse and an American History webpage popped up, hiding the Big Cats page.

  Nelson Anderson leaned over her school desk. Despite the feline coolness that had taken over her psyche, Felicia’s heart danced a little as he leaned close enough for her to get a good whiff of his hormones. The horny secretions of a normal teenage male.

  “Mr. Baxter wants to see the drama club today after school,” he said in his beguiling voice. “Three-thirty in the auditorium.”

  Felicia gazed at Nelson’s clear blue eyes. He was a fine healthy specimen. How is it I never really noticed him before?

  She suppressed a smile as she realized she was sizing him up as a possible mate. Someone to have a litter of healthy kittens with? she teased herself.

  “Will you be there?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I think he has something important to announce.”

  “I’m there.”

  “Say, did you do something to your hair?” Nelson smiled, showing off his irresistible dimples. “You look different or something.”

  “No. Just the same old me I’ve always been.” Damn he’s cute.

  Nelson smiled, and nodded uncertainly. As he walked away Felicia considered what she was feeling. All warm and fuzzy inside. A feeling she’d never felt before. It almost made her want to abandon her shapeshifting antics and be a normal girl, doing normal things.

  Nelson paused at the library door, and flashed her a suggestive smile. Then he was gone.

  Felicia sat in a quiet turmoil. She couldn’t explain why she was feeling all riled up inside. Am I reading too much into his smile?

  She clicked back to the Big Cats we
bsite. A beautiful Cheetah gazed at her with glossy black predator eyes.

  ***

  As she headed for the drama club meeting, Felicia passed Wally in the hallway. He was talking to Sparrow and another boy. As she passed they turned to stare at her. Eyeing her coolly. None of them spoke. They just gazed at her blankly. Eyelids droopy over cloudy eyes, like they’d just smoked some potent dope.

  Felicia stared back, meeting all their eyes in turn.

  Uh huh. I should have known. The third boy was Reggie Daniels. One of the few black students in the school.

  Reggie was a shy loner. He obviously had image problems, always moping around with hunched shoulders and a fidgety manner. Always looking down at the floor as he walked through the halls. His hair unkempt and usually speckled with lint.

  As Felicia glared at them, Reggie blew her a mocking kiss.

  So that’s the fifth bastard. I never would have guessed it. I thought for sure Wally was a racist.

  Felicia entered the school auditorium and scanned the faces of the kids already assembled. Crystal was there, and greeted Felicia’s arrival with a hopeful smile. Nelson was also there, seated in the front row.

  Felicia took a seat in the back, alone. She wasn’t quite ready to let Crystal off the hook yet. And she didn’t want to throw herself at Nelson. Let him come to me. I know he’s interested. That smile was unmistakable.

  Mr. Baxter did a quick head count and started the meeting. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I’m afraid I called you here to deliver bad news. We learned today that the arts budget for the school has been severely reduced for the remainder of the school year.”

  A moan went up from the assembly.

  “I know. It sucks big time,” Mr. Baxter said. “But it doesn’t mean we have to give up our shows. I’m willing to donate my time after school. And Principal Atkins has kindly agreed to foot the bill for whatever utilities we need to power our shows.”

  The kids applauded.

  “But,” he continued, “We won’t have any funds to build new sets or make new costumes, at least not from scratch. But I think we’re clever enough to recycle our old stock with a little work, and I’ve spoken to the art teachers about coordinating our needs in the way of backdrops and special props with their classroom assignments. We’re not really sure how or if that will work, however. They’re concerned that their budget for art supplies is going to be slashed as well, and that certainly seems likely thanks to our town council.”

  “That sucks,” protested Nelson. “The arts are just as important as sports and other school activities.”

  “Even more important,” added Felicia, mainly to impress Nelson. “The arts help shape our spirits, not just our bodies.”

  “Nicely put, Felicia,” said Mr. Baxter. “I’m glad to see I’ve gotten through to some of you.”

  “It’s that bitch Mandee Madisson, isn’t it?” croaked Libby in her froggy voice.

  Mr. Baxter wanted to laugh out loud but stifled his amusement. “Libby, please. That’s not a respectful way to talk about a member of town council… as much as I might agree with you.”

  The kids laughed. “W-what ab-bout the Hallow-ween show?” asked Crystal meekly.

  “The Halloween show will go on as planned, the Friday before Halloween,” Mr. Baxter answered, to a smattering of applause. “All proceeds from the ticket sales will be donated to help pay Oogie Joslin’s hospital bills. I’m sure you’ve all heard by now about his tragic experience.”

  Disturbed murmurs filled the room. Felicia suppressed a smile.

  “Well then,” said Mr. Baxter, “I guess that’s all for now. We’ll meet again tomorrow, same time, to figure out what we need in the way of costumes etcetera. See you all then.”

  As the students filtered out, Felicia cast a glance in Nelson’s direction. He turned abruptly and their eyes met. He smiled, somewhat shyly. But a girl’s voice rang out behind her, interrupting the moment. “Felicia!”

  Felicia turned to find Crystal, smiling hopefully. “Are you h-heading home? I thought we c-could w-walk together.”

  “I… uh…” Felicia turned back toward Nelson. But he was already gone. “Sure.”

  “Great. Cool.”

  ***

  “There’s something d-different about you,” Crystal said, a bit sheepishly. She was still feeling a little guilty and insecure, not entirely sure that Felicia had completely forgiven her. “I m-mean in a g-good way.”

  “Not really,” Felicia lied. “I’m still me. We just haven’t hung out in a while.”

  “Maybe.” But Crystal didn’t buy it. Felicia was different. All the kids at school had noticed it and had been talking about it since the incident in the cafeteria. She’d always had more self-confidence than Crystal, but had also been somewhat reserved. Now she seemed to be brimming with bravado, like she didn’t have a care or a fear in the world. Even the way she moved conveyed her new attitude. Not so stiff and angular. More graceful and slinky. Imbued with a certain indefinable something.

  The roar of a rackety engine shattered the stillness of the quiet suburban street. A motorcycle pulled alongside the girls. Its motor calmed to a steady thumping as it slowed to keep pace with them.

  The girls looked over and saw Wally astride his beat-up old dirt bike with its mud-caked fenders and rusted out tailpipe. “Hey, bitches. How about a little three-way action at my place? I’ll let you both suck my cock for a quarter.”

  Crystal’s knees buckled. Her intestines felt queasy. The last thing she wanted was any attention from Wally or his thugs. Twice in one day was far too much. Why is he focused on me?

  But Felicia stared boldly at his grinning face, her eyes cold and unblinking. She felt only the slightest pang of unease. The kind of nervous concern a lioness might feel, knowing there were armed hunters prowling her territory. Threatening her cubs. But mostly she felt anger. And hatred. Pure hatred. “Fuck off, asshole,” she snapped.

  Flustered by her bold response, Wally’s hands squeezed his brake lever without working the clutch and he nearly lost control of his bike. But he quickly regained his bearings.

  “What’d you say? Fuck who? You say you wanna fuck me?”

  “L-leave us alone,” said Crystal, trying to sound brave. But her cracking voice made her sound even more scared than she looked.

  “G-g-get you alone?” Wally mocked. “Is th-th-that what you said? I couldn’t hear you ca-cause you w-were stutt-utt-utt-utt-uttering. Sure, honey, I’ll be happy to get you alone. You can count on it.”

  Suddenly a car pulled up behind Wally and the driver leaned on his horn. Wally glanced back and scowled. “Catch you later, beeyotches!” And with that he zipped away, popping a wheelie and whooping in glee as he shot down the tree-lined street. A ten-year-old Audi pulled up next to the girls.

  Felicia was pleasantly surprised to see Nelson at the wheel. My shining knight to the rescue, she thought.

  “You ladies alright?” he asked, looking concerned.

  “Better than alright,” Felicia said coolly. “Nice car.”

  “It gets me around,” Nelson smiled, all dimples and aristocratic cool. “You ladies need a ride?”

  “We’re good.”

  “You sure? There’s a wildcat loose in this county. Wouldn’t want your pretty faces getting scratched up or something.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Felicia replied with a knowing smile.

  “Okay then,” Nelson said smoothly, “See you tomorrow at drama club.” With that he drove away.

  Felicia looked over to see Crystal looking pale. Still unnerved by the encounter with Wally. “Hey, relax,” she said soothingly, “The big bad wolf is gone. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

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  27

  The kids lobbied to stage The Rocky Horror Picture Show for their Halloween show, but Mr. Baxter nixed that idea. “I don’t think having a bunch of high school students parading around in their u
nderwear is exactly what we need right now to win the support of the town council.”

  “But it’s Halloween. We should be allowed to cut loose a little,” argued Nelson.

  “Rocky H-horror is c-cool,” moaned Crystal.

  “It was til they did it on Glee,” croaked Libby under her breath.

  “I agree with Libby,” said Mr. Baxter. “We can be more original and make better use of our budget if we put on a variety show. Everybody loves a bit of song and dance and there are plenty of songs to choose from. Michael Jackson’s Thriller, the Monster Mash, Don’t Fear the Reaper, Bauhaus, Rob Zombie, Goth, Darkwave, Alice Cooper…”

  “Alice who?”

  “Never mind. Just put on your thinking caps, people. It’s all about inspiration.”

  “C-can we at least b-be s-s-sexy?” asked Crystal hopefully.

  “Sexy comes from within,” said Mr. Baxter, sounding somewhat stodgier than his normal self. He really felt like laughing, imagining how Crystal might attempt to portray herself as sexy. “And we have to keep the show classy.”

  The kids groaned.

  “But that doesn’t mean you can’t strut your stuff a little. All I ask is that you keep it tasteful. No Janet Jackson costume slips or filthy four letter words. And if you feel you must incorporate lingerie as part of your costume, remember that those stage lights give the audience something akin to x-ray vision.”

  The kids laughed.

  “Any more questions? No? Good. Then we’ll meet again on Monday after school and I expect you all to be loaded with brilliant ideas.”

  ***

  Felicia slipped away before Crystal could ask to join her on the walk home. She’d been troubled with an uneasy feeling all afternoon and felt an urge to visit Granny Dola.