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  “But . . . I want to come! Giant cat!”

  “Please, Surita,” Zoe begged, “if you don’t help us, we won’t even make it a day without someone figuring out we’re gone.”

  “How are you even going to get to your aunt’s without me? You can’t drive a car. Don’t tell me you’re planning to ride your bikes almost all the way to the White Mountains. Bicyclists train themselves for long-distance rides. You’ve biked . . . what? . . . down the street? It will take you all week just to get to New Hampshire, much less come back.”

  “They’ll ride me,” Pipsqueak said.

  It was Zoe’s turn to stare at Pipsqueak. “We’ll . . . what?”

  Pipsqueak pressed her shoulder against Zoe, and Zoe had to brace herself so she didn’t slide off the roof. The cat’s voice sounded anxious at first but grew stronger. “You and the boy with the stupid dog will ride me to your aunt’s house, and she’ll fix everything so we can come home, and I can be with Zoe without fear of anyone taking me away.”

  “My name’s Harrison,” Harrison said.

  “Dog boy,” Pipsqueak corrected.

  Zoe hadn’t thought about the fact that Pipsqueak was large enough to ride, but she certainly was. “That’s better than riding bikes.”

  Surita’s mouth was hanging open. “Better? That’s awesome.”

  “Exactly how much better than bikes are we talking about?” Harrison asked, taking out his phone and typing. After a moment he said, “Ooh, okay. Sweet.”

  “What?” Zoe and Surita asked.

  “So there aren’t any Google Maps estimates for travel by giant cat, but mountain lions routinely travel more than twenty-five miles a night to hunt. They have impressive endurance and can go many miles traveling at an average speed of ten miles per hour. The longest journey by a land mammal ever recorded was done by a mountain lion.”

  All three of them studied Pipsqueak.

  “I’m larger than a mountain lion,” Pipsqueak pointed out. “I can go faster and farther.”

  “Say we travel for a minimum of eight hours a day at ten miles per hour . . .” Harrison said. “It’s about a hundred fifty miles. So we can be there in two days. Less if Pipsqueak can go faster and farther. This could work!”

  “This will work, so long as you help us,” Zoe said to Surita. “Please say you’ll do it! Be our alibi! You have to drive us away from home, pretend you’re taking us to camp, and then tell camp we aren’t coming. We’ll text and call home and say camp is great, and you can check in with our families too, make sure they’re not getting suspicious—”

  “Yeah, otherwise . . . Zoe’s right—we won’t make it more than a day without you,” Harrison put in, “whether we’re riding a giant cat or not.”

  “Two days there and two days back . . . You can handle that,” Surita said slowly. “Grandma taught you how to camp. You have sleeping bags. You can bring food and water. I can buy more cat food.”

  “Is that a yes?” Pipsqueak asked. “You’ll help us?”

  “Give me your phones.” Eyes glued on Pipsqueak, Surita held out her hands without answering the cat’s question. Zoe and Harrison gave her their phones, unlocked. “First thing we need to do is hack your phones. If your parents use one of those find-your-phone apps to check up on you, they’ll know instantly that you aren’t at summer camp.”

  Zoe hadn’t thought of that.

  As Surita tapped on the phones, she continued talking. “Next, you’ll need a plan for what to say when you call home. Or at least you need to prepare a series of believable texts. You can plan to text them about swimming in the lake or how you’ve learned how to canoe or what camp songs you’ve learned. ‘Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts’ is a classic—with lots of variations. Speaking of variations, campers come from all over, so you should tell them you have a bunkmate who says pop instead of soda and water fountain instead of bubbler. You want a few key specific details. Don’t try to get too elaborate, or they’ll never believe you. Short texts. Be witty if you can. Call sometimes, for variety and believability. But not too often, because it’s too easy to be caught off-guard on the phone.”

  “Wow—it sounds like you’ve already thought this all through,” Zoe said.

  Glancing at her, Surita blushed. “I like to imagine what I’d do in different scenarios. You know, to pass the time. This is the discover-you-have-a-superpower-and-have-to-go-save-the-world-but-it’s-a-secret scenario. Classic, really. Pretty much every superhero hides their power from their family. Even Buffy, who had a great mom, snuck out of her bedroom window for the first two seasons.”

  “Who’s Buffy?” Harrison asked.

  Surita stopped typing and stared at Harrison. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer? TV show from the nineties? Only one of the most iconic female-power characters of all time? She practically started the urban fantasy genre. Okay, you have to start with episodes one and two of season one for the intro; then you can skip to—”

  “Can we talk about Buffy later?” Zoe interrupted. “After we save my giant cat?”

  “Right, sorry.” Surita gazed again at Pipsqueak for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Okay. You both need to convince your parents. Harrison, I can help with yours. The camp won’t be a problem—they’re always happy to squeeze in more campers. I’ve never seen it full. But there will be the issue of the camp calling your parents to report when you’re a no-show.”

  “Can’t you tell them we’re not coming? You know, when you get there—say there was a last-minute change of plans and we’re really sorry,” Zoe said.

  “Yeah,” Harrison chimed in. “We leave with you, so everyone sees us drive away. Pipsqueak meets up with us around the corner, and then you continue on to camp, make excuses for us, and we go to Zoe’s aunt.”

  “Will you do it?” Pipsqueak asked. “Will you help us?”

  Pulling herself together, Surita nodded. “Yes, I’ll cover for you. And I’ll fix your phones. You’ll still be able to use your GPS, so you won’t be mapless, but to your parents it’ll look like your phones are where mine is.” Her fingers flew over their phones, performing whatever phone-hacking magic she knew. “You’d better keep me updated, though. And when you’re back, I want to know everything. No secrets. At least from me. As for everyone else . . . as Gandalf would say, keep her secret, keep her safe.”

  Both of them agreed.

  Keep her secret, keep her safe, Zoe thought. For one hundred fifty miles. That was so very, very far. But with Pipsqueak, Harrison, and Surita . . . it actually felt possible. We can do it! We have to try!

   Chapter 9

  THANKS TO BOTH SURITA AND ALEX, it worked. While Surita prepared their cover story, Alex did all the arguing for Zoe. He was convinced that if she went to camp for a week and had adventures, she’d understand better why he was going to Paris, and then the rest of the summer would be filled with joy and sunshine and butterflies rather than sadness and storm clouds. Or something along those lines. He even used Pipsqueak as part of his argument. After Zoe told him she’d found a cat sitter, Alex informed their parents that she had handled arrangements for her new pet all on her own, showing her maturity. But Zoe didn’t eavesdrop on all their conversations—she was too busy trying to pack for one trip while pretending to be packing for another.

  Harrison kept texting:

  “Packing flashlights.”

  Then: “Extra batteries.”

  Then: “Extra underwear. Grandma always said pack two more than need, in case fall in mud pit. Or tar pit with mammoth.”

  Then: “Packing tent.”

  Then: “No rain. No tent.”

  Then: “Maybe tent? In case weather wrong?”

  She finally texted back. “Only what you can carry. If no rain, no tent. Don’t tell me about your underwear. Kthxbye.”

  He quit texting.

  In the end, she packed a few changes of clothes plus extra underwear, her toothbrush and toothpaste, her hairbrush, her phone charger, a sleeping bag, and as many snacks and as much cat food
(purchased by Surita) as she could fit. She also packed all of her birthday money that she hadn’t already spent on cat food and the vet. It wasn’t much. She hoped Harrison had more. If the trip took longer than they’d planned, they’d have to buy at least some food on the way. Carrying enough cat food for a giant cat . . . it filled the bulk of her backpack.

  Encouraged by Alex, her parents filled out the registration forms for camp, and Harrison prodded his to do the same. Harrison’s parents were delighted he was showing an interest in a camp that didn’t involve video games.

  By late Sunday afternoon, they were ready to go. Harrison’s parents had already said their goodbyes, smothering Harrison in hugs and kisses until he turned as red as a beet. Now it was Zoe’s family’s turn. Alex was helping them load everything into the trunk of Surita’s car. It was a two-hour drive to camp, which meant they’d arrive by dinnertime—if they were actually going to camp.

  “You packed your toothbrush?” Mom asked.

  “Yes. And toothpaste.”

  “I have extra,” Harrison volunteered.

  Harrison had overpacked, of course. Zoe was certain he’d packed at least three times, subtracting then adding items as he went. She didn’t want to see what was in his backpack. He probably brought twenty-seven must-have essential camping supplies and six weeks’ worth of underwear, she thought. But that was his business. So long as he carried a bag of cat food too.

  “You’ll miss us, right?” Dad asked.

  “She’s supposed to be going on an adventure,” Alex scolded.

  “I’ll miss you all every day,” Zoe said. At least that’s not a lie. She wished she dared tell her family the truth about her “adventure,” but it was too risky. Aunt Alecia had said to let no one see Pipsqueak, and Zoe didn’t want to take any chances. It was her responsibility to keep her cat safe. Studying her mother and brother, though, she wondered if she was making a mistake.

  “Second thoughts?” Alex asked.

  And third, she thought. And fourth. “None.” She hugged them all and then said, “Just forgot one thing. I’ll be right back.” This was the plan: she’d tell Pipsqueak it was time, the cat would slip out of the backyard and meet them behind the neighbor’s garage one street over. From there, they just had to make it to their old elementary school. Surita had checked: due to a weekend sports camp, the school would be open. So long as they arrived after camp ended but before the janitors locked up for the night, they’d be able to hide inside until it was dark enough to sneak out of town. A simple plan, so it should work.

  She jogged inside, through the house, and out into the backyard. From the shed, she heard a faint yowling noise that sounded like a cat being squeezed. Pipsqueak! Zoe broke into a run and threw the shed door open.

  “Pipsqueak, are you okay—”

  The sound broke off and there was a rustle of boxes as Pipsqueak tried to dive behind them and instead knocked them all over. She poked her head up. “You scared me again!”

  “I heard a noise. I thought you were hurt!”

  “I was singing,” Pipsqueak said.

  “Oh. Okay. Great.” Her heartbeat began to return to normal. Zoe wiped her sweating palms on her shorts. “Well, we’re just about ready to leave—”

  “It was opera.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I was singing opera,” Pipsqueak explained. “An aria from The Magic Flute by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I read about it.”

  “Very nice.” Zoe pushed on. “I wanted to make sure you— Wait, how do you know what opera sounds like if you’ve only read about it and haven’t heard it?”

  “I have an excellent imagination.”

  That was rather awesome, though her timing for a concert wasn’t great. “I’m sure you do. Harrison and I are about to leave with Surita. Everyone’s in the driveway, exactly as planned. You know where you have to go?”

  Pipsqueak kneaded the floor of the shed. She’s nervous, Zoe realized. That’s what this is about.

  “How about a new plan?” Pipsqueak suggested brightly. “After you and the dog boy drive around with the girl who called me a rodent, you come back here and we chase fireflies.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not what we agreed to do.” She can’t be backing out. Besides, there wasn’t a way to make it un-happen. And staying wasn’t an option, not with the risk of her family spotting Pipsqueak. Or a neighbor. Or an unexplained-phenomenon-seeking tourist. Or a reporter. Or one of the construction workers, who were coming to work on the new laundry room in the morning. Zoe kept her voice light so Pipsqueak wouldn’t guess she was freaking out inside. This trip was going to be hard enough even with Pipsqueak fully onboard. “Besides, I thought you said fireflies taste bad.”

  “We won’t eat them,” Pipsqueak said eagerly. “We’ll pounce on them, then let them go so we can chase them some more. Come on, Zoe—all I want is for us to be together, here. So how about we skip the part where we leave and just be together at home?”

  Zoe closed her eyes briefly, counted to ten, and then said as calmly as she could, “I know the unknown is scary. But you were the one who said you wanted to do something.”

  Pipsqueak let out a sad whimper. “What if your aunt can’t help? What if she doesn’t like me? What if there’s nothing anyone can do to stop this, and I keep getting bigger and bigger until I’m the size of a house?”

  “She said she’s met other animals like you and she knows what to do,” Zoe reminded her. “I’m sure she can make everything go back to the way it was. Don’t you want that?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then let’s find out,” Zoe said gently. “Together. And let her try to help you. Please, Pipsqueak. We both want the same thing: to be together, without having to be afraid anymore. This is the best way to make that happen.”

  The cat nodded.

  “We’ll meet you one street over, and then we’ll hide in our old school until dark. It’ll be safe.” Zoe hugged the cat’s neck, and Pipsqueak nuzzled her, then began cleaning her fur.

  Zoe heard her mother calling from the driveway. It was time to go. “See you in five minutes, okay?” She hurried back to where Surita, Harrison, and her family were waiting.

  Surita and Harrison were watching her closely, trying not to look nervous and failing utterly. Harrison was bouncing from foot to foot, and Surita was twisting a clump of purple and black hair around her fingers.

  “Finally!” Surita puffed. “We need to get on the road if we’re going to get to camp before they stop serving dinner. First night is cheeseburgers. You miss cheeseburgers, and you get sloppy joes. No one wants camp sloppy joes. You could end up eating squirrel.”

  “Everything, um, okay?” Harrison asked Zoe.

  “Sure!” Zoe said, hoping that was true. She hugged her parents and Alex again. She reassured them that she’d packed all her stuff, that she’d text them often, and that Pipsqueak was happy with her cat sitter (a friend of Surita’s, they’d claimed). And then at last they were in the car.

  “Text us tonight when you arrive,” Mom instructed.

  Zoe promised she would.

  Surita pulled out of the driveway. Zoe and Harrison waved, and Zoe’s family waved back. It was such a bizarre moment. Zoe hadn’t prepared herself for waving goodbye as she drove away; she’d been too busy worrying about what it would feel like to be the one left behind while Alex drove off. But this would be the longest she’d ever been away from her family. Twisting in her seat, she continued to wave.

  Halfway down the street, Surita said, “Are you seriously going to keep waving until they’re out of sight?”

  “I’ll wave as long as they wave.”

  “That could get us caught in an endless loop,” Harrison observed.

  She knew it was silly, but it made her feel better—as if they were coming with her in some way. Maybe I should have told them. Or asked for help. It was possible they would have reacted the way Surita did . . . Except they wouldn’t. Her parents would do what they thought was best
for Zoe and Alex, and she couldn’t guarantee that would be what was best for Zoe and Pipsqueak.

  She quit waving after they turned the corner. A minute later, they were at the designated meeting spot: near the neighbor’s garage. Surita had confirmed the owners were on vacation, and the building was shielded from view by several bushy evergreens. They parked and waited for Pipsqueak to appear.

  She didn’t.

  She’ll come, Zoe thought. She wants this.

  Still . . . It wasn’t until Zoe really began to worry, Surita began to tap the steering wheel, and Harrison began to gnaw on his fingernails like a chipmunk on a nut that Pipsqueak strolled out of the trees. The branches bent around her, then snapped back. A few startled birds took flight, and she crouched down, eyes upward, before relaxing and sauntering on.

  “That is just too much cat,” Surita said.

  All three of them got out of the car . . . but before Pipsqueak reached them, she spotted a squirrel racing up a pine tree and chased after it, climbing the tree. It was a thin, brittle pine with sparse branches, and as the cat climbed higher, the tree began to tip.

  “Stay back,” Zoe warned.

  “She’ll stop before it—” Surita began with confidence.

  And then the pine tree snapped. Pipsqueak rode it down with a yowl, and the squirrel zoomed off. All of them waited to hear shouts, but with the neighbors on vacation and Zoe’s and Harrison’s houses too far away, no one came to investigate.

  Shaking out her fur, Pipsqueak said, “Oops.”

  “You’ve got to keep a lower profile,” Surita said. “Seriously. If you aren’t careful, you’ll all be arrested, taken to Area 51 for questioning, and never seen again because you’ve had to give up your identities to work for a secret government agency that seeks out the mystical impossibilities of the world . . . On second thought, that sounds incredible.”

  “Unless the reason we’re never seen again is that we know too much,” Harrison said, “and we have to spend the rest of our days in isolation, with only the Loch Ness Monster for company.”