Catboy (6 page)

“Throw your food to the king first,” Mr. Singh said.

I undid the zipper of my bag to get the sandwich. The cats reacted to the sound of the zipper, becoming more alert, more aware and more wary.

The big cat came forward a few feet. He was still a safe distance away but closer than the others. He stood directly
between
us and the other cats. His stare became a hard glare, and his tail swished back and forth. With a dog, that's a good sign. With a cat, it isn't.

“It looks like he's guarding them,” I said. “Protecting them from us.”

“I think he just wishes to be first in line for dinner. I am sure he can smell the food in your hand, even if he cannot see it clearly.”

I tore off a little piece of the sandwich—bread and baloney. I hadn't eaten any of it. I wasn't a big fan of baloney. I tossed it toward him. He bounded forward and with one paw batted it out of the air and onto the ground. He pounced on it like it was alive!

“Now that he is occupied, we can feed the others,” Mr. Singh said.

He dug into his bag and removed a piece of bread. He ripped it into small pieces and tossed it at the cats. They scrambled, either after pieces or to run away. I quickly divided my sandwich and did the same, causing another little stampede.

As if a dinner bell was ringing, other cats came out. There were more than twenty of them feeding and fighting over the bits of food. The black cat, the hunter, didn't come out, because he didn't need my leftover tidbits. He had taken care of himself.

“Have you given any of them names?” I asked.

“No names. There are too many, and they come and go. Many look the same,” Mr. Singh explained.

“Would it be all right if I named some of them?”

“You can name them all if you wish. Just do not expect them to come when you call them.”

The big tabby walked toward three cats scrapping over a couple of remaining tidbits. Two of them saw him coming and scrambled away. The third didn't and received a swat to the head. The cat tumbled over and scurried away.

“He's not very nice,” I said.

“He does not need to be nice. He is the king.”

“Like Scar from
The Lion King
.” I tried to explain, “It's a movie, a Disney movie. It's really good. Do you know
The Lion King
?”

Mr. Singh started singing “The Circle of Life” from
The Lion King
. He was off-key but knew the words. I couldn't help but smile. “Who does
not
know
Lion
King
?” he asked. “That Scar was a very
bad
leader, but it was a very
good
movie.”

“Does anybody ever come here to adopt one of the cats, to make it a pet?” I asked.

“Oh, no, never. That would not be possible.”

“Why not?”

“These cats are not pets. They are too wild,” he said.

“What about if somebody took a kitten?”

“When they are very little, they need to be with their mother to survive. When they are older, they are already too wild. They can never be pets. Never.”

I knew he was right, but still.

Nine

I put up a shot and it bounced off the rim. Simon, who was short but like a bulldog, grabbed the rebound and put it back up for a basket. That was game.

“Good game,” Devon said as he gave Simon a slap on the back.

We tapped hands with both Alexander and Devon. They were good losers, and we were good winners. No point in being jerks about it or trash talking. They were just as likely to win the next game as us. Besides, when you put down the people you play against, you're just putting yourself down as well.

“Taylor!”

My mom was walking toward us, smiling and waving. I looked at my watch. I'd lost track of the time because I was so preoccupied with the game. I should have gone up and done a little bit more work around the apartment, but still, it was in pretty good shape.

“Hey, Taylor's mom,” Simon said.

“Hello, Taylor's friend, Simon,” she said. “And Taylor's other friends, Devon and Alexander.”

I could tell she liked my new friends and was particularly fond of Simon. But why wouldn't she like them? They were polite guys and worked hard at school.

I knew she'd been worried about the new friends I would make, and my grandparents had been worried even more. I guess when all you know about Toronto is what appears on the nightly news, you could get the impression a lot of bad things happen here. But none of that stuff happened at my school or in my building.

“I was just heading up to the apartment,” I said.

“Stay if you want, and I'll get supper on the table.”

“The potatoes are peeled and sitting in water,” I said.

I had discovered I didn't have to hide the fact that I helped my mom out, because the other guys all helped around their places too.

“You are such a sweetheart. And those will go very well with what I have right here.”

She held up one of the plastic bags she was carrying. Peeking out the top was a KFC box!

“I thought I smelled something special,” I said, but what I thought was, Do we have enough money for that?

“This is a special meal for a special celebration,” she said. “Or at least a potential celebration.”

“What are we celebrating?” I asked.

“Yeah, what are we celebrating?” Simon added. “And by the way, if you need somebody else to do the celebration eating, I could be persuaded to eat some KFC.”

“Count me in too!” Devon exclaimed.

“And me,” Alexander added.

“You are all most welcome to join us for a meal, another time. Tonight I only bought enough for two.”

“So what are we celebrating?” I asked.

“Technically, nothing yet. I have to discuss it with you first,” she said.

“With me?” Now I was equal parts curious and worried. “What is it?”

“Nothing bad, so don't worry. Let's talk about it over dinner.”

“In that case, we should go straight upstairs and eat. I'm hungry,” I said.

“Hungry or curious?” she asked.

“Can't somebody be both?”

“Then let's go,” she agreed.

I said my goodbyes to the guys and we started off.

“Sure you don't want me along?” Simon yelled. “I don't eat much!”

My mother laughed, and it made me smile. I took one of the bags from her.

“How was school today?” she asked.

“Not bad. Actually it was
muy bien
. At least, that's what I'd say if I was talking to somebody who was Spanish,” I said.

“
Très bien
is what I'd say back to somebody who was French,” she said.

“Mr. Spence likes when we try different languages.”

My mother went to put her key in the lobby door of our apartment building, but I pulled it open.

“It's busted again,” I said.

“So much for security. Would it be too much to ask that we could have that fixed? But enough complaining. So this Mr. Spence seems like a pretty good teacher,” she said.

“He's pretty cool. Do you know any Gaelic?” I asked.

“Gaelic? Where is that coming from?”

“From our heritage. I'd like to add Gaelic to our heritage wall in the class.”

“I'll see what I can do. Have you tried the Internet?” she asked.

“Not yet. I thought I'd try the Inter-mom first.”

We stopped at the elevator. Somebody had added more graffiti to the wall. My mother shook her head. I knew what she thought about that.

“Devon really doesn't like the graffiti either,” I said. “He thinks they should kick people out of the building for doing things like that.”

“Devon is a smart boy.”

“He says it's disrespectful to everybody in the building,” I said.

The elevator door opened to our floor, one inch too low. We stepped up to the corridor.

“That's nice you're getting to know new people, especially so many nice people,” she said.

She unlocked the door to our apartment, and we stepped inside.

“So what's the news?” I asked.

“Let's wait until dinner, when we can have a sit-down discussion.”

“Let's not. You can't start telling me something and then stop and make me wait. That's not fair.”

She nodded her head. “You're right. I'll tell you. I was offered a promotion at work today.”

“That's wonderful!” I gave her a big hug.

“It's more responsibility and more money. Not a fortune, but a nice little raise.”

“That's even better. To get a promotion after only being there three months is really something,” I said.

She laughed. “Sometimes you act as if you're the parent. I told my boss I'd let him know my decision tomorrow.”

“What's to decide? Don't you want the job?”

“That's what we have to discuss. The promotion means I'll be working two evenings a week and every second Saturday morning.”

“So?”

“So, I'm not sure I should be leaving you alone more than I already do. It's not fair to you.”

“Look, I'm not a baby. There's nothing to discuss. Didn't we move here so you could have a job with more chances of a promotion?”

“Well…”

“Then wouldn't it be crazy for you not to take the job?” I asked.

She smiled.

“Take the job. We can use the money, and you deserve the promotion.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-seven on my next birthday,” I said with a grin. “And that makes me old enough to know what the right thing to do is. Tell them tomorrow that you'll take the job.”

“Okay, I'll tell them and—” She stopped as she saw that the table was already set. “Thank you. That is very considerate.”

“Don't I always set the table?” I asked.

“You do, but it's still considerate, still appreciated and still worth thanking you for,” she said.

I followed her into the kitchen and pulled the KFC box out of one of the bags. There was another box underneath. I pulled it out as well.

I thought about what she'd said to the guys about only having enough chicken for the two of us.

“How much chicken did you get?” I asked.

“I bought enough for the two of us, and I got some more for your friends.”

“For my friends? But you said you didn't have enough for them, and they couldn't have dinner with us.”

“Not
those
friends.”

She opened up the bigger of the two boxes. It had bones and French fries and some buns. “For your cat friends.”

“Thanks so much!”

“That stuff was in their garbage. The guy behind the counter at KFC thought I was either a little crazy in the head or trying to get some free food.”

“The cats are going to
love
it.”

“I know those cats are important to you. You've spent a lot of time talking about them over the past couple of months,” she said.

“I guess I do talk about them a lot,” I said.

“I also know you still miss Blinky. I miss him too. Maybe someday we can get you another cat.”

“I already have about forty cats.” I paused. “But thanks, really. Someday that would be nice.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure,” I said. “Besides, isn't this building a ‘no pets allowed' place?”

“I'm sure there are a few cats in here, but you're probably right. It would be better if we didn't have a pet, at least for now.”

Ten

“Okay, we only have a few minutes before the bell goes,” Mr. Spence said, “so there's just enough time for a review.”

We'd spent a big chunk of the afternoon studying the United Nations.

“Who can tell me when the UN was founded?”

Two dozen hands went up, including mine. He nodded to Mohammad.

“Nineteen forty-five,” Mohammad said.

“Correct. And now, which city, so nice it was named twice, is the home to the United Nations?”

Every hand went up again.

“Rupinder?”

“New York, New York, in the United States,” Rupinder answered.

“Correct again. It's a great city. How many people have been to New York?”

This time only two hands were raised. I thought it would be incredibly cool to go to New York. I could hardly imagine a place bigger and busier than Toronto, but I knew New York was
way
bigger.

“When you get older, you should all try to see that city. Remember, travel is a great education,” Mr. Spence said. “How many member states are there in the UN?”

Almost every hand went up.

“Simon?”

“One hundred and ninety-two countries have official status,” Simon said.

“Another correct answer, although some people have difficulty believing there are that many countries in the world. But I invite them to visit Toronto, where you can find people from every one of those countries living here.”

“And maybe all in the same class,” Simon said, and everybody laughed.

“That would be one incredibly big class,” Mr. Spence added. “But one I'd love to teach. Now back to the review. How many of those one hundred and ninety-two countries make up the Security Council?”

Several hands shot up. I knew the Security Council was made up of the biggest or most powerful countries. The permanent members had the power to “veto” any vote, which meant if all the other countries wanted something and one of those countries didn't, then it didn't happen.

“Alexander, can you answer that, please,” Mr. Spence said.

I turned around. Alexander had his head buried in a book, no surprise. He read more than anybody I'd ever met.

“There are five permanent members of the Security Council,” Alexander said without raising his eyes. “They are the United States, Russia, England, France and China. There are also ten other members, who are elected to a two-year term on a rotating basis by the other member states.”