Dog-Eared Delinquent

Chapter Seven

Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Now that I knew there might actually be answers, I needed to hear them. My poor, tired mind was in overdrive trying to anticipate what Peter would say when we finally got the chance to talk things out.

Why could I talk to Octo-Cat and only Octo-Cat?

How could a quick zap from a faulty coffee maker land me with paranormal powers when the rest of the world carried on just the same as ever?

And how did Peter Peters factor into all of this?

I looked up the address he’d given me on Google Earth. It belonged to a squat brick building right in the heart of Glendale’s tiny downtown area. Despite having lived in the area for my entire life, I’d never noticed that building before. Perhaps my eyes had always been drawn to the more colorful, vibrant storefronts, or maybe it was new.

I even drove past one day in search of clues and was disheartened to see a FOR LEASE sign taped inside the darkened window.

Right before I left work Friday, Peter pressed a folded-up Post-it note into my palm without offering a single word about it. I tried to act naturally, but the tiny yellow paper felt like it was burning a hole right through my flesh. Once tucked safely inside my car with the doors locked, I unfolded the note and read the single word that was written there: Claw.

Well, that made absolutely zero sense. I took a picture with my phone and texted it to Nan. Peter just gave this to me. Any idea what it means? I asked.

I waited for a few minutes. When her reply still hadn’t come, I tossed the Post-it on my passenger seat and started my journey home. Nan often forgot her phone in various parts of the house and didn’t realize it was missing until hours later. I could just ask for her feedback in person. After all, I’d be there soon enough.

At the stoplight, I glanced toward the note again. Maybe the trick was in how the word had been written rather than in what it said.

Only the note wasn’t waiting on the passenger seat where I’d left it.

I did a quick scan of the floor, assuming it had fallen. No.

I groped under the seat, but the light turned green and the car behind me honked impatiently, forcing me to return my focus to the road.

The remaining minutes of my drive were grueling. Peter’s note had to be somewhere. It just had to be. I needed to look harder to find it. It’s not like it could have disappeared into thin air.

Then again, I was now living in a world where it was possible for at least two separate people to talk to animals. My reality had already warped and stretched into a vaguely unrecognizable shape. So, then, why couldn’t a tiny piece of paper go poof when no one was looking?

Correction: when I hadn’t been looking. Suddenly, I felt as if a million invisible eyes were staring directly at me, that I was the only one who didn’t understand what had happened.

Paranoid. Vulnerable. But not crazy.

At home, I frantically searched the car. Still nothing.

I couldn’t believe that Peter was making me wait until ten that night. Why had he even made me wait at all? Was this some kind of trick? Why hadn’t I suspected so earlier?

Gullible. Naïve.

Nan found me less than half an hour into my search. “Lunch is getting cold. Granted, the cold cuts were already cold, but…” She stopped halfway down the porch steps and cocked her head to the side. “What are you doing, dear?”

“Looking for something,” I mumbled, sweeping my hand beneath the seat for the one-millionth time. “Did you get my text?”

“What text?” she asked in obvious confusion.

I sighed. “Nan, you really need to start keeping your phone on you. What if there was an emergency and I couldn’t reach you?”

Nan skipped down the rest of the steps and thrust her phone in my face. “You mean this old thing? Hasn’t left my side all day.”

I yanked it away from her and entered the top-secret passcode, 1-2-3-4. That was probably another thing I should talk to her about when this whole business with Peter was put to rest. “Look, I sent you a picture of…”

I opened her recent texts and saw the conversation we’d had a couple days ago, but nothing since then. The text had sent, right?

“Dear, you don’t look so good. Come inside and have something to eat,” Nan suggested, as was her way.

But I was a woman on a mission. I brought my phone back out and checked my texts, checked my photo stream, checked the Cloud even.

Any indication that the Post-It note had ever existed had now also vanished into thin air. Why? It just said a single word with no context. It’s not like it was something dangerous.

Wait, what was that word again?

It seemed that knowledge, too, had been plucked straight from my brain. I wanted to throw up as the realization hit me.

Nan put a gentle hand on my back and guided me into the house. “Eat,” she commanded after pulling out my chair and pushing me down into it.

I did my best, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the note, about Peter, about everything. I couldn’t wait any longer for answers. I needed to go now and hope that someone would be around who could explain all of this to me.

“I’m just going to go run a quick errand,” I told Nan, not wanting to put her at risk in case we were dealing with something dangerous here.

Octo-Cat, according to his rigorously kept schedule, was now napping in the west wing of the house. That meant I could slip away without having to first explain to him why I preferred he not come.

Seizing my chance, I booked it downtown to the place I’d been fixated on all week. I hadn’t tried to enter before, but now I found parking down the block and marched straight up to the presumably vacant building. A polite knock on the front door produced no results, nor did the frantic pounding that followed. I tried to peer in through the window, but everything appeared empty, dusty, uninhabited.

Was Peter just yanking my chain?

Sending me on a wild goose chase rather than giving me any real answers?

But then why the note?

It had seemed he wanted me to know about his ability—or at least to know that he knew about mine—but why?

I groaned in frustration and kicked the edge of the building.

“Come now, Angela. Try to control yourself,” Octo-Cat said, appearing at my feet as if from nowhere. He yawned, then swiped a paw across his forehead.

“Where did you come from?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

He looked bored with me already. “The car. Same as you.”

No, something didn’t make sense here. “We’ve never had a drive where you haven’t clawed the heck out of my lap,” I argued, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. “How could you have possibly stowed away undetected?”

He shrugged his little striped shoulders. “You’re improving your skills. I’m improving mine.”

“Well, that’s just great.” And, under normal circumstances, it probably would have been, but I was too frustrated about all the non-answers floating around when it came to Peter, his Post-It, and now this building, too.

I pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. With another massive groan, I slapped the edge of the building and bit back a scream. Now my hand and my foot hurt from abusing this stupid brick façade, yet I was no closer to figuring things out than I had been before stupid Peter came to stupid town. Grrr.

Octo-Cat lay on the sidewalk with his face hidden beneath both paws. “You’re embarrassing me,” he ground out.

Great, great, great. I threw my hands up and charged down the block, back toward my car.

“Wait!” he called after me, running a short distance and then stopping at the alley. “We can still check the other sides, right?”

Darn it, he was right. I took a deep breath, then turned back his way.

Down the alley there was only a single door partially obscured by an overflowing dumpster. I lifted my hand and made a fist, but then hesitated. What would I find inside? Once I knew the truth, there would be no going back. Was I ready for that? Really ready?

“Well, go ahead and get it over with already,” Octo-Cat said gently.

I knocked so lightly, the sound barely even reached my own ears.

But a voice immediately answered from the other side. “Password?” it demanded.

Password? Peter hadn’t said anything about…

“Claw,” I said before my brain had even finished connecting the dots.

The door opened.