Chapter 3
On Saturday, the refrigerator was empty enough to force me out of the house.
Milo appeared by the door in tiny sneakers. “Can I go?”
I remembered Chloe taking him out, abandoning him, and waiting to see whether he could find his way home.
“You aren't afraid I'll lose you again?”
His mouth tightened, but he reached up and wrapped his hand around my index finger.
“You won't.”
The supermarket was crowded. I offered to put him in the cart.
“Babies ride in there. I'm big.”
“Then hold my hand, big guy.”
He did—until I bent to inspect a package of steaks.
When I straightened, he was gone.
I abandoned the cart and searched every aisle, calling his name. Customer service announced a missing four-year-old over the speakers. No one had seen him.
My mind filled with every terrible possibility at once.
I was reaching for my phone to call the police when the system finally spoke.
[Milo is outside the rear entrance, behind the planter. He has been watching you.]
I ran outside.
There was no child in sight, but one tuft of fur stuck out from behind a concrete planter.
Relief weakened my knees. Anger followed close behind, but the way that little tail trembled told me punishment would only answer the wrong question.
So I slowed and spoke loudly to the empty sidewalk.
“I lost Milo. The police are definitely going to arrest me. They'll lock me in a cage, make me sleep under a wet blanket, feed me dry kibble without milk, and play thunder noises all night. I'll never eat steak again. Worst of all, I won't see Milo.”
The tuft rose.
“I wish I'd bought him ice cream. If he appeared before I count to ten, I wouldn't even be mad. I'd buy him two scoops.”
I closed my eyes, badly pretending not to peek.
“One. Two. Three...”
At nine, a siren sounded on the street. It was an ambulance, but Milo burst from hiding before he could tell the difference.
“Don't take her!” he sobbed. “I'm here. She didn't lose me!”
I grabbed him and held on until my heartbeat stopped trying to break my ribs.
On the ride home, I asked why he had left.
“A grandma outside couldn't find her guide dog,” he said. “I went to help. Then I wanted to know if you'd look for me. Then I thought...”
He studied his shoes.
“You hated me before. Now you're nice. I should pay you back. If I went away by myself, would you be happier?”
I looked out the window until I could trust my voice.
“So you only came out because you thought the police would take me?”
He nodded.
At home, I closed the door and turned toward him with an exaggerated villain's grin.
“Too late. You've fallen into my hands.”
His eyes widened. His body blurred.
Where a child had stood, there was suddenly a small, gray, spotted catlike animal with absurdly long ear tufts and a stubby tail.
Not a house cat, I realized dimly. But close enough that my judgment abandoned me.
I scooped him up.
“You can transform?”
He squeaked as I rubbed his head and pressed his soft paw pads. “I know! I know I was wrong!”
Once I had calmed down—and once he had stopped glaring at me from beneath the grooming brush—I became serious.
“Helping the woman was kind. You did well. Leaving without telling me was dangerous, so that part was not okay.”
Milo watched me.
“And you never have to disappear to repay kindness. Whether I like you or dislike you, this is your home. Your safety and your place here belong to you. Sacrificing them for someone who never asked you to doesn't make that person happy.”
His brow wrinkled.
I tried again. “If you give away your ice cream because you want to share, that's kind. If someone says they'll only love you after you give away every meal forever, that's wrong.”
His ears lifted a fraction.
“So I can keep my dinner?”
“You can always keep your dinner.”
He repeated the words under his breath, committing them to memory.
I hoped the lesson would stay with him when I was not there to say it.
