Chapter 2

The next morning, my nursing textbook was shredded. Pages torn, claw marks deep in the cover.

Scrappy sat on Tiffany' s bed, grooming himself. He looked at me. Then he looked at the book. He knew.

"Tiffany, your cat destroyed my textbook!"

She barely looked up from her phone. "Oh, Scrappy's just being playful. Don't be so dramatic."

"Playful? This book cost eighty dollars! And he pooped on my yoga mat."

"Ew, gross. I'll get him a litter box later. Maybe."

She posted a video. Her voice was syrupy. "Just trying to save a precious life, but some people are such haters. They just don't understand compassion." The camera panned vaguely in my direction.

I called Mrs. Davis. "There's a cat in our apartment."

"A cat? You know the rules, Chloe."

When Mrs. Davis came by, Scrappy was gone. Tiffany had hidden him in her closet, under a pile of designer clothes.

"No cat here, Mrs. Davis," Tiffany said, smiling sweetly. "Chloe must be stressed from her studies."

Mrs. Davis gave me a sharp look. I felt like an idiot.

My aunt asked me to babysit my cousin, Lily. She' s eight. I love Lily.

She came over on Saturday. I made us popcorn.

"Can I see the kitty, Chloe?" Lily asked. Tiffany had, of course, posted about her "rescue."

"He's not very friendly, sweetie. Maybe later."

I went to the kitchen to get us juice. I was gone for a minute. Maybe less.

A scream.

I ran back. Lily was on the floor, crying. Blood streamed down her arm.

Scrappy stood a few feet away, back arched, hissing. His claws were out.

There were deep scratches on Lily' s arm. And bite marks.

"He just jumped on me!" Lily sobbed.

I scooped her up. My hands were shaking.

The emergency room was cold. Lily needed stitches. The doctor talked about infection risk, rabies shots just in case.

I was furious. And scared. This wasn't just about a textbook anymore.