To Be A Cat

Over The Hill From Weird

RISSA CAUGHT A bus home.

‘This isn’t just weird,’ she told herself. ‘This is over the hill from weird.’

She stared out of the window at the fast-moving houses. She knew that the man had looked very much like Barney’s dad, but at the same time there was something that wasn’t right. When she had looked into his eyes she had felt, very surely, that she had been looking into the eyes of a stranger.

Again, all this weirdness was making her more worried about Barney. She got off at the closest stop to home, walked through the streets, along the river path to her parents’ barge. She stepped inside, crouching as she went down the little wooden steps to the galley and then the narrow living quarters beyond.

Her mum and dad weren’t there.

Rissa went to the small fridge, which was old and battered and had a big sticker of a rainbow on it.

She opened it up and saw some of her mum’s special carrot cake. Normally she couldn’t get enough of the stuff, but today she realized she wouldn’t be able to eat anything, even though she’d left most of her pizza at lunch.

She went to her bedroom. Bedroom wasn’t really the word for it. It was more like a narrow box, with a tiny porthole and a futon instead of a bed, and a beanbag instead of a chair. But Rissa liked it. The sound of the water lapping against the bow of the boat usually made her feel very calm.

Usually.

Not today, though.

On the floor by her futon was a book her dad had taken out of the library especially for her. It was a book Barney had always gone on about and she’d wanted to try herself.

The Water Babies, by Charles Kingsley.

She’d started it last night, and had decided she didn’t like the way the boy character was so perfect and the girl was so horrible. But she did like the way the writer had made water so magical. Looking out of her porthole at night and seeing the moonlight reflected on the surface of the river was enough to make you believe life was full of a million unfathomable wonders. It was the same feeling Rissa had when looking through her telescope at stars that had died millions of years ago, even though their light lives on.

She stared at the book. And then it came to her. Of course. The library.

She phoned it, asked to speak to Mrs Willow.

‘Oh, Rissa. Hello. What’s wrong?’

Rissa thought about telling Barney’s mum about her visit to the cattery, but she really didn’t know what to say. Had she seen Mr Willow or hadn’t she? So instead she said: ‘It’s Barney.’

‘Barney? I phoned the school earlier and spoke to Miss Whipmire. She told me he’s fine. He’s at school. But he’s been a bit badly behaved.’

Rissa waited a moment. This didn’t make sense. ‘No,’ she said. ‘He’s not been at school today. He ran away. I tried to tell you in my message but the bus driver took the phone off me.’

A pause. Rissa heard Mrs Willow’s anxious breath creating a fuzzy noise on the phone. ‘Miss Whipmire assured me he was there.’

‘Well,’ said Rissa, not knowing how else to put this, ‘I’m afraid that Miss Whipmire is a liar.’