Part 3 (1/2)

Squirt squealed with happiness.

”Jessi, Jessi, come watch Squirt!” called Becca.

Jessi was sponging off the table. ”Becca, I've seen him walk.” ”Well, you haven't seen this. Please come here.” ”Okay.” Jessi abandoned the sponge and crossed the room to her brother and sister.

Becca had set Squirt on the carpeted floor of the rec room and he stood there unsteadily. She backed away. ”Okay, Squirtles,” she said. ”Come here!” She held out her hands. ”Come here!” Squirt lurched toward Becca. As he walked, he cheered himself on. ”Yea! Yea! Yea!” So that was what Becca had wanted Jessi to see. Jessi began to laugh. ”Who taught him that?” ”He did. I kept cheering for him when he was walking. Now he cheers for himself.” ”Group hug!” announced Jessi. She and Becca and Squirt moved together for a three-person hug.

After that, it was Squirt's bedtime. Jessi read him some nursery rhymes before he went to sleep. Squirt is too little to understand them, but Jessi thinks reading is important at any age. Then she let Becca read to her from Baby Island, and finally, when Becca was asleep, too, Jessi brought her copy of Sounder downstairs and curled up with it on the living room couch. Sounder is about a dog, but Jessi found herself thinking of Tigger the cat, wondering the same things I was wondering. What had happened to him? Was he safe? Was he hurt? If he was hurt somewhere, would we find him? And . . . where was he?

Chapter 8.

”Mary Anne, Mary Anne! My mom did it!” ”Did what?” It was Sunday morning and I hadn't been awake very long. My brain was barely working. All I knew was that Kristy was on the other end of the line and she was very excited.

”She copied the posters!” said Kristy. ”I've got the whole stack right here in my lap. So I'm on my way over. We can paper the neighborhood.” I wanted to find Tigger more than anyone else did. But it was only eight-thirty in the morning. I wasn't dressed. And I had a pretty good idea that Claudia and Dawn weren't even awake. All I said, though, was ”Paper the neighborhood? What does that mean?” ”You know, put up the posters. Distribute them. Cover the neighborhood with them.” ”Oh. . . . Wow, Kristy, it was awfully nice of your mom to go to her office last night. She had to go all the way into Stamford, just for the posters.” ”Well, Tigger is important.” ”Thank you,” I said, ”and listen, I can't wait to start, um, papering the neighborhood. But don't you think it's a little early in the day? I'm still in my nightgown. And . . . and . . . okay, I'm walking across Dad's room, now I'm looking out the window . . . Yup, Claud's shades are down. I'm sure she's still asleep. I bet Dawn is asleep, too. And I'd kind of like to call Logan. Maybe he'll come help us. Can we meet at noon?” ”Noon?” repeated Kristy. She sounded slightly disappointed. ”Well, okay. And how's this? I'll phone Jessi, Mal, and Claud, if you'll phone Dawn and Logan. Tell them to meet in your yard at twelve o'clock.” ”Deal.” At noon that day, I was standing in my yard. Well, I wasn't just standing in it, I was calling for Tigger. It was impossible for me to be almost anywhere without calling or looking for him.

”Ti-i-i-igger! Here, Tiggy, Tiggy!” I called. I whistled. I shook his toys. I set out cat food. No Tigger.

So I was relieved when the Thomases' old station wagon pulled up in front of our house. Kristy hopped out and Charlie waved to me.

I waved back.

In Kristy's hands was a stack of papers.

”Oh, let me see,” I cried, running to her. Kristy handed me the paper on the top of the stack. ”Great. This is great, Kristy. How can I thank you?” ”You're my best friend. We don't have to thank each other for things. But it would be nice if the posters brought Tigger back.” ”I'll say.” As we stood looking at the LOST OR STRAYED heading, Claudia showed up. Then Dawn and Mallory. And soon, everyone was gathered in my yard.

Kristy, holding the posters, was in her element. She was in charge.

”Now,” she began, ”the idea is to paper the neighborhood. By tonight, there shouldn't be a single person in this area who doesn't know that Tigger is missing. I've got boxes of thumbtacks, and I want you to make sure you put a poster on every phone pole. Maybe two posters - front and back. Then stuff mailboxes. There are plenty of streets around here.” The seven of us set out. Logan and I went as a team.

”Mary Anne?” said Logan, as we pushed thumbtacks into opposite sides of a phone pole. ”I'm really sorry about Tigger.” Well, that was a relief. ”You are?” I asked.

”Sure.” ”I think,” I said slowly, ”that this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.” Logan smiled. ”Oh, come on. Don't be so dramatic, Mary Anne. A lost kitten is sad, but aren't you overreacting a little?” I had nothing to say to that.

Across the street, Mallory stuck a poster in a mailbox, closed the box, ran to the next one, and expertly tossed another poster in.

”Hey!” I called. ”Are you training for the Poster Olympics?” Mal grinned. ”I just figure that the faster we get the posters out, the faster we'll find Tigger.” She ran ahead.

Logan and I were putting posters in mailboxes when my dad drove by. He waved as he slowed to a stop..

”These are the posters, Dad!” I said, handing him one.

My father nodded. ”Very profes - Thirty dollars reward! That's impressive. Where did the money come from?” ”A little came from the club treasury, but most of it's our own. We chipped in.” ”It certainly ought to get people looking.” ”You think so? Great!” ”I'm on my way to the grocery store,” said Dad. ”We ran out of a few things. How would you like me to take along some of the posters? I could put one on the bulletin board in the grocery store, and one on the board by the newsstand. Maybe some other stores will be open. They might let me tape a poster in their windows.” I gaped. This was my father? He hates doing things like that - asking for favors and stuff. ”That would be terrific, Dad,” I said, ”but are you sure you want to?” ”For Tigger, anything.” ”Okay.” I handed Dad a bunch of posters and thanked him six times. He drove off.

Logan and I continued. When we reached an intersection, he turned left and I turned right. I was on my own. I walked quickly, so quickly that after a couple of blocks, my legs ached. But it was worth it for Tigger.

Oh, Tiggy, where are you? I thought. That question had been worrying me since Friday. Where are you? But there was another question that was even worse. It had been worrying me since Friday, too. It was so bad, I could hardly bear to think of it. The question was, Tigger, are you alive? What if Tigger had wandered away? What if he'd been hit by a car? The driver wouldn't know whom Tigger belonged to. So he'd take my kitten to a vet and explain what had happened, and the vet would say, ”I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do,” and then they'd get rid of Tigger. They'd have to. He doesn't wear a collar with tags.

Dead, I said to myself as I walked along. Dead, dead, dead.

I stuck a poster in a mailbox.

Dead, dead, dead.

I came to a phone pole. Time for the thumbtacks. I pulled the box from my pocket and stuck a poster to the street side of the pole. I was putting one on the opposite side when a voice said, ”Who's Tigger?” I jumped a mile. When I turned around, I found a boy who looked as if he were about ten years old. He was peering around me at the poster.

”Tigger's my kitten,” I told him, trying to calm down.

The boy nodded seriously.

”Have you seen him?” I asked.

”Maybe. I guess you want him back pretty badly, don't you?” ”Oh, yes,” I said.

”Is there really a reward?” ”Yup.” ”Well then, okay. Yester- um, no, let's see. The day before yesterday 1 saw a - a gray kitten with tiger stripes.” ”That's just like Tigger!” I cried.

”And he had short hair - I'm sure it was a he, not a she - and he was, oh, about fifteen inches long - I mean, including his tail. And, um, he answered to the name of Tigger.” I looked suspiciously at the poster I'd just put up. ”How did you know to call him Tigger?” I asked the boy.

”Because his name was on his collar?” he suggested.

I shook my head. ”Sorry. He doesn't wear a collar.” The boy didn't look a bit uncomfortable about having told a whopping lie. ”What's the reward for?” he wanted to know. ”For information leading to finding this cat or something?” ”No,” I replied crossly. ”For finding him. For putting him in my hands.” I stuffed the thumbtacks back in my pocket. Then I just walked off. Sheesh. What was wrong with people? Was money the only thing they could think of?

I walked and walked. I papered our neighborhood until I ran out of posters. Then I went home. I found Mal, Jessi, and Dawn sitting on my front lawn.

”We're done!” Jessi announced.

”I was done first,” Mal added proudly.

I sat down with them, but as soon as I'd done so, Dawn jumped up.

”We shouldn't be just sitting here,” she said. ”We should be looking for Tigger.” ”But I've looked and looked.” ”Then we should look some more. He's just a baby. He's so little. Maybe he got stuck somewhere.” The search for Tigger started out with just the four of us. We grew to seven as Logan, Claudia, and Kristy returned. Then Charlotte Johanssen came by and she joined us. Jamie, Myriah, and Gabbie were about to start a game of Superman Tag (whatever that is), and Nicky Pike was out for a bike ride with his friend Matt Braddock, but all of them stopped their fun and helped us look for Tigger. I was just telling Logan about the boy I'd met while I was putting up posters, when Jamie pulled on my sleeve.

”Mary Anne! Mary Anne!” he said urgently.

I stooped down to his level.

”What's up, Jamie?” ”Nicky Pike said if you find Tigger you get thirty dollars.” ”That's true.” ”If 1 had thirty dollars, I'd buy eleven hundred racing cars.” I sighed. Here we go again, I thought.

”But you know what?” Jamie went on. ”I'd rather just have Tigger back.” I gave Jamie a huge hug.

Chapter 9.

We did not find Tigger that afternoon. Somehow, I wasn't surprised.

But I was surprised the next afternoon when Jamie Newton said to me, ”Let's look for Tigger some more.” It was Monday. I was baby-sitting for Jamie and Lucy, and the weather was gorgeous. Being outdoors would feel wonderful. But it seemed to me as if we'd already looked everywhere for Tigger. Every possible place. At least around here, and I couldn't very well take the Newton kids to some other neighborhood in order to go kitten-hunting.