"For still ‘tis beating in my mind . . . your reason for raising this .
. . storm?"
--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, THE TEMPEST
Part One
O Brave New World
I told you I might once again, someday, return to my narration, but I
had no idea it might be so soon.
But time is relative, as you know. It can stagnate exasperatingly,
excruciatingly, or it can be gone so quickly one may feel they have been
walking merrily down the road of life and suddenly find themselves
lifted harshly from their spot and sped forward inexplicably.
But is life a path, or might it actually be a wheel? I apologize--these
are more riddles than questions, and more inconstant than the wind.
Riddles they may be, without answer, without end, without definite
purpose, but they are things that came into my mind my first night in
the Junkyard.
If you recall, I had just given my name to Mungojerrie in the furtive,
embracing rays of a new day. My head was situated pleasantly in the pit
of his neck as we lay against each other in the warmth and light. A
peculiar prickly, murmuring sound caught my attention. "Are you
purring?" I asked him.
"Maybe," he answered, sitting up, giving me a quizzical look. "Maybe
not." He rolled onto his back.
"Are you ticklish, then?" I asked.
He rolled partially back to an alert position. "Few kittens ever dared
ter find out."
"Then let me be one of them!" I cried, springing upon him. He laughed,
and we swatted each other till we fell over in exhaustion.
"Yer ‘avin' fun?" he asked.
"Of course!" I answered breathlessly. Then I withdrew a little and
said, "I'm having a wonderful time."
"Then come wiv us."
I was so surprised I could only utter a baffled, "What?"
"Come wiv me and ‘Teazer. Home." He tossed his head and reconsidered.
"Well, Victoria Grove."
"Your house?" I gasped. My heart was open to the boundless
possibilities of recreation, but I shivered, recalling my aversion to
the Ones. "Won't your humans mind?"
"Nah," he said. "Come on. It'll be fun."
I smiled as fully as I was able, realizing at once my luck. In one
magical night, I had found my father, discovered a family, and--perhaps
most importantly--learned what love could mean. I was ready to begin
this new life laid out in front of me. "Let's go."
We left the inner-most center of the Junkyard, proceeding from the heap
of rusted and dilapidated refuse to the alleyway. Rumpleteazer was
lounging comfortably on an overturned trash can, facing a passageway.
She sat up, yawning. "Wot took yer so long, ‘Jerrie? I near--" She
stopped, her eyes reading the shock she no doubt felt.
I tried to look inconspicuous. She benefited me with the briefest of
frosty nods, then turned again to Mungojerrie. He smiled. "I got the
loot." He tossed the sack toward her.
"An' somfink else," she said petulantly. She leapt from the can and
flicked Mungojerrie with her tail. "Woss she doing' ‘ere?" she
whispered pointedly.
"She's comin' wiv us," he said nonchalantly, batting away her obtrusive
tail.
"She's Munk's daughter."
"Yeah. So?"
Rumpleteazer's nearly violet eyes went wide as she lashed around. "She
won't wan'a snatch."
"I like ‘er," Mungojerrie said frankly. "I wan' her ter come."
Rumpleteazer frowned thoughtfully, looking back at me. Then she tossed
her shoulder and began walking. Mungojerrie shrugged and nodded at me
to follow him. "I hope I haven't bothered her," I whispered to him.
"Eh, she needs some bovverin' every once in orwhile," he said loudly.
Rumpleteazer turned around, nearly slipping over the wall we were
scaling towards Victoria Grove.
There was a ferocious silence then, and I felt responsible. I wondered
if the angry gleaming in her eyes was jealousy. I had not thought of
them being romantically involved. I winced inwardly. I felt my
feelings being eclipsed by hopeless submission. If Mungojerrie already
belonged to Rumpleteazer, there was nothing I--or anyone--could do.
Then I felt my determination rise wordlessly. There was one thing that
neither cat, nor stars, nor worldly persuasion could alter, and that was
that I loved Mungojerrie. And he had approached me, so that had to mean
he liked me. I would not give in.
"What is it you like to snatch?" I burst out to Rumpleteazer, causing
her to look at me with mild surprise.
"Wot woss yor name?" she asked sweetly, too sacrynly to be earnest.
"Loon? Mooney?"
I looked down in consternation. "Selene," I mumbled.
And we spoke no more.
It was not long before we reached their home in Victoria Grove. The
house had an air of determinedly proper arrogance. It stood cemented in
its foundation, its broad, cream-colored expanse blurred only by
well-placed, elegant windows. "How do we get in?" I whispered, awed.
"Follow me," Mungojerrie said roguishly, mounting a drain pipe and
daringly climbing to an opened window. Rumpleteazer scaled the wall
with grace to match him. I thought I detected a haughty smile from her
as I scrambled up and landed precariously in the window sill.
I peered in the open window and hissed involuntarily at the
familiar--blood-tainted--smell of humans. "Woss wrong wiv yer?"
Rumpleteazer asked airily.
I looked past her to the house. "I don't like humans."
"O' course a mangled street spawn wouldn't," she muttered inaudibly,
tossing her shoulders back.
The sound of the Master of the house raving from inside quieted us.
"Where are those cats? Where are they?" the man roared, rushing into
the room. "I tell you, they've had it! I'm going to grab them and I'm
going to . . . I'm going to cut them up and give them to the cook.
Maybe we can find the pearls in their stomachs!"
I gasped, and Mungojerrie pushed me back, saying, "Don't worry." And
nonchalantly he jumped inside the window, Rumpleteazer following. I
cringed as the Master snarled at them, "You rotten thieves! How dare
you show your measly faces in my presence?! I'm sending you off to the
pound at once, you hear, you mendicants, you, you, you . . .!"
Then, inexplicably, the Master bent down and gently petted the cats as
they rubbed against his leg. Mungojerrie gave the Master a curious look
that read, "That was a little too real."
The Master sighed and scratched Rumpleteazer's head. "Aw, I'm sorry,
darlin's. It's just Mary was a little upset this morning over the
shredding of the damask tablecloth." Mungojerrie winked at me.
Self-consciously I entered form the window, blinking unsurely at the
overwhelming human presence. "What's this?" the human asked, bending
toward me. I stopped, unable to quell the innate fears of the Ones.
Rumpleteazer intentionally hissed, startling me away from the human's
extended arm.
" ‘E's not bad for an ‘uman," Mungojerrie said consolingly. "Let ‘im
pet yer. ‘E likes cats."
Somehow I stopped the thundering, tremulous pounding of my heart and
allowed the Master to scoop me up in his arms, trembling as he gently
stoked the top of my head. Suddenly the sharpness of fear dissipated,
and I let the hesitant purr out of my throat.
"Awright, that's enough," Mungojerrie said, pawing threateningly at the
Master's feet. "I'm the only one that can make ‘er purr."
Rumpleteazer said appealingly, "Yer can still make me purr, ‘Jerrie."
Mungojerrie swiped at her with his paw. "It's funner ter make yer
yowl," he remarked, and the two erupted into their good-natured fighting
at the Master's feet.
"Come on, let's get you fed," said the Master. "You're so skinny."
***
"Whotcher ffink?" Mungojerrie asked, cleaning his foot with his
sandpapery tongue.
"Hmm?" I asked, sitting halfway up from my reclining position on the arm
of the Master's sofa. I looked down at Mungojerrie resting beside
Rumpleteazer on the ornate rug.
"The food," he replied lazily. "It's not a Doll's ‘Ouse, but it's
fillin'."
"Oh, it's great," I answered. "Anything in the belly is."
"So," he continued, loping over to me, "whotcher ffink of the tribe?"
"What do you mean, ‘whotcher ffink'?" I teased, mimicking his Cockney.
"I've never loved anything so well in my life."
"The humans weren't right kind ter yer?" he asked poignantly.
I could see Rumpleteazer staring indifferently at me. "It could have
been worse," I muttered, remembering with a sigh the swirling of mad
images--the squalid cardboard box, the dank and dingy street, and most
of all the emptiness. A memory or two . . .
"Well, don't you worry, luv," Mungojerrie replied, sitting up. "Yor a
Jellicle now."
"Jellicles are born, not made," Rumpleteazer muttered.
I bit back a rude remark and breathed in, reminding myself of
tolerance. Mungojerrie shot her a look and she quickly uttered, "I'm
bored. Ain't we gonna do some snatching, ‘Jerrie?"
"Sure," he answered, stretching. "Yer'd like that, wouldn't yer?"
I giggled. "I don't know. I've never ‘snatched' before."
"Then come wiv us," he continued, winking over his shoulder. "We'll
show you all the best techniques."
I was given a tour of the miniature thievery business, beginning in the
Master's closet, where my friends had buried some of their loot.
"‘Member this?" Rumpleteazer laughed, lifting some bizarre accessory
with her paw and dangling it over Mungojerrie's head. I scrutinized it
carefully, determining it was a fish skeleton decorated with scraps of a
silk curtain.
"Yeah, that was a fun one," he agreed.
"What--?" I began but was interrupted by Rumpleteazer dashing off into
the parlor. I followed, curious, into the room, where a handsome
armchair had ben conquered as a permanent scratching post. A wide
collection of beads and ball bearings were arranged neatly against
broken hair combs in a detached escritoire drawer scarred with
clawmarks.
A faint, though familiar smell met my nose, and I followed it to
fireplace that had not been used for sometime. "Oh," Mungojerrie said,
hiding a laugh, "that has only one purpose and if yor gonna use it we'll
give yer some privacy." Rumpleteazer snicked. I smiled imperceptibly
at the primitive kitty litter.
I stared across the wall to a closed door where a peculiar scent was
drifting out. It was half perfume and half . . . something else.
"What's in there?" I asked.
"Nuffink worff yor time," Mungojerrie said with unusual sobriety.
"It's the Mistress's room," Rumpleteazer explained, licking her paw and
smoothing back her fur matter-of-factly.
"We don't go in there," he said firmly. "She doesn't like us like the
Master does."
"What's that smell?" I couldn't help refrain from asking.
"Luv, I told yer we don't go in there," he said gently. "Now come and
I'll show yer somffink worth snatching."
And he departed. I started to follow obediently, but Rumpleteazer said
with a thrilling note in hr voice, "It's the bird yer smell." I felt my
whiskers tingle. "The Mistress keeps a canary. ‘Jerrie went after it
once
and--" her voice went discreet "--I don't spose yer've seen the scar on
‘is back--"
I nodded, and in her eyes a strange sort of petulant surprise flashed.
"Well, she ‘it ‘im that ‘ard. That's why he don't like to go in." She
smiled secretively. "Wouldn't yer luv to go in and eat that fat
feathered thing?"
Though my eyes widened with a bestial desire, I said, "I wouldn't want
to get hurt in the same way. Besides he told us to stay out."
"Well, yes, he did say that," she said with insidious sincerity. But
wot ‘e right meant is ter tempt you to go in. ‘E'd right admire a show
of braight like that. ‘E's that kind of cat, yer see."
"Thank you, but I'd rather not," I said pointedly, walking down the
hall.
"That's wot sets us apart, Loon," she said, low and soft. "I can take
risks. I'm not afraid." I felt a sudden swish of my tail achingly
begging me to turn around, but I knew that was exactly what she wanted.
Instead I stood up tall and padded forward.
However, when she opened the door behind me, I couldn't resist the
instinctual compulsion triggered by the sound of the canary peeping.
Racing back down the hallway, I ignored Rumpleteazer's triumphant glare,
stalking into the room. The room was small and poorly lit, with a large
canopied bed in its center, in which I guess the Mistress was sleeping,
if that low snoring sound was any indication.
The canary, however, was in the opposite corner, near the door, in a
delicate metal cage not very far from the ground. I cautiously
approached it, a primitive hunger thrilling me. I sat up and reached
for the senseless animal, which began to screech so loud I thought it
would beat its own brains out.
I measured distance and force from the ground, studying the fluttering
bird. Then I leapt onto the cage, causing it to fall, as planned, onto
a nearby desk, from which I seized the gyrating bird between two eager
paws. Suddenly it inched out of my grasp, scattering its golden
feathers everywhere. It walked further into the desk, which I learned
was a piano. The plunking of my paws on the keys as I perused the
delinquent bird caused the Mistress to stir in her bed.
The canary cheeped loudly and escaped onto the top of the canopy.
Unable to tear myself away, I leapt up after it. As I made the final
pounce, the canopy could not support the weight and I fell through,
entangling myself in the unforgiving curtains, which held me, dangling,
over the Mistress's very nose.
I tried to free myself but could not. The Mistress started at me, her
eyes widening. "Meow?" I cried helplessly.
"Aieeee!" she screamed, sitting up and grabbing me by the scruff of the
neck. "You . . . horrible cat!" she roared, running through the rooms
of her house, her fingers pinching my neck. "I don't know where you
came from," she snarled, "but I'm going to send you back there!" She
proceeded unceremoniously to dump me on the doorstep. "If you move one
step toward this house again, you hairy miscreant, I will have one of
your nine lives!" she bawled, slamming the door.
I winced, shaking my shoulders. "Ouch," I said, twisting my head around
to lick the mark she'd made. I sighed deeply, realizing I'd made the
situation worse for more than just me. I looked up at the opened
window, seeing Mungojerrie's and Rumpleteazer watching me. He left
quickly, but she lingered, with a flippantly satisfied smile.
I might have waited for them to descend (or be thrown out), but it was a
cold day and I was suddenly desirous of returning to the Junkyard.
Perhaps I feared it would not exist upon my return. However, it was as
I had left it, though considerably less glamorous, since the sparkling
moonlight had been eradicated to the garish sun.
Those cats known as Alonzo, Tumblebrutus, and Plato were reclining
lazily over various pieces of junk. Pouncival, Electra, Etcetera, and
Jemima were playing a lusty game of hide-and-seek, while Demeter and
Bombalurina were having a discussion while they cleaned themselves.
They all sat up at my approach, their ears pricking up, and folding back
down again. "With Mungojerrie, were you?" Bombalurina asked, winking.
"You're a brave thing."
"Because of Rumpleteazer?" I asked.
"Oh, no!" she laughed. "Because of him!"
Demeter barely stifled a laugh before saying concernedly, "Did you tell
your father you were leaving?"
Everyone in the Junkyard was silent for a moment, before Etcetera
sing-songed, "Somebody's in trouble . . ."
Gulping down a fearful breath, I walked quietly into a small alcove
created by an overturned basin and a large fire screen. Inside I saw my
father pacing.
"Selene?" he cried, the relief and surprise ever evident in his voice.
I ducked my head. What could I say? What could I do? "Father--" I
began shakily.
"Do you comprehend the state you've put us in? A Jellicle just doesn't
go missing in the morning. You're to tell us where you go, you
understand?" His voice was a torrent of well-intentioned warnings, but
they made a bad experience weigh even more heavily on me.
"Yes, I'm sorry--" I tried, grimacing at the ground.
"You need to stay close, Selene, to the Junkyard. Cats can disappear
quicker than Misto can manage," he said with dire warning in his voice.
"There are threats out there to single cats that are more terrifying
than dogs or cars--"
"Threats?" I asked weakly.
"Maybe Gibberish was a bad influence on her," he muttered to himself.
"Maybe I shouldn't have let her--"
"My mother?" I asked tremulously.
He stopped mumbling and looked directly at me. "If memory serves me
correctly, you are older than a kitten." I nodded. "If you want to be
treated like an adult, you can't act like a kitten."
I looked down at my trembling paws. "Yes, sir." He nodded. "But I
wasn't alone," I blurted.
His eyes widened in the way a guardian's does when they hear something
defiant. "What? Who?"
I winced and held my breath, hoping somehow this would make me
invisible. Munkustrap was still looking down at me. "Mungojerrie and
Rumpleteazer," I muttered, hoping he wouldn't hear.
"Selene . . ." he rumbled, giving me another unmistakably omnipotent
look.
"They're members of the tribe, aren't they?" I asked quietly.
"Yes, they are," he said with a half-annoyed scowl, "but they're not
exactly the pinnacle of Jellicle virtue," he concluded. "And not
something for the discriminating father to use as an example for an
impressionable young cat."
"But--" I began and then shut my mouth.
"Do you know what I'm saying?" he asked sternly.
"Um . . ." I whispered, "you're telling me not to play with them?"
"Not until you're old enough to--" I thought I detected a laugh "--stay
out of trouble," and he picked off a remaining canary feather. I felt
the blood rushing to my ears in mortification.
"Yes, Father."
He smiled. "Come here, you." And he drew me to him, smoothing back the
fur on my head. "Do you like it here?"
"Oh, yes!" I cried. "But . . . it's . . . a little difficult to . . .
know how to . . . act, at certain times."
"Don't worry," my father said. "You'll learn." I smiled hopefully,
inwardly doubting if I would ever be able to distinguish correct
behavior from inaccurate conduct.
I walked back into the Junkyard, staring at the now-vacant tire, my mind
drifted back to the night before when everything had ended and begun. I
looked up at the toms sleeping. "Ahem," I coughed nervously, waking
them. "Um . . ." I began, "um, do you need any help hunting today . .
.?"
They looked at me sleepily as if they didn't hear. I was about to
repeat myself when Alonzo said passively, "No, thank you."
I sighed heavily as the three of them went back to sleep. For a long
time I sat in the middle of the Junkyard, unsure of what I should do.
Finally, I started looking for Demeter and Bombalurina. I was wading
through some cardboard boxes and discarded newspapers when I heard,
"Awwooh!" and out of nowhere a white and brown furball landed on me.
I descended into a maze of bed springs. I sat up angrily and glared at
the culprit, who rolled onto his back for laughing. Three more kittens
slunk out of the rubble behind Pouncival, tittering softly. "Very
funny," I snapped, walking away.
"Aw, don't be mad," Pouncival answered, running after me.
"Why shouldn't I?" I demanded.
Electra, Etcetera, and Jemima looked at each other and giggled.
"Because Pouncival only pounces on cats he likes." If it were possible
for Pouncival to go red underneath his fur, he would have at that
remark. The girls erupted into more peals of laughter.
I couldn't help but smile. "You're very sweet," I said, "but don't you
think you're going about it the wrong way?" He looked puzzled.
"Pouncing isn't a very debonair of impressing a female," I tried to
explain.
"But the Tugger told me that's how kittens come about," he said
innocently. The girls emitted another collective giggle.
"So that's what the Tugger told you?" I asked. "Consider for a moment.
Does the Tugger have any kittens?"
They were all silent until Etcetera squealed, "Not yet, but he will, and
they'll be by me." Everyone laughed except Etcetera.
"So," asked Pouncival, "if I"m ‘debonair' to you, will you be with me?"
He looked so naive and sad-eyed I could hardly refuse. "Oh, darling,
I'm a little old for you."
"But not too young for Mungojerrie," electra observed, laughing. The
other kittens joined her, and very soon all serious subjects were lost
in their minds as they leapt onto each other and rolled about. I sighed
in remembrance of my own kittenhood. Where were my brothers now? . . .
Had they found happiness as I had? . . .
Breaking me from my reverie and the kittens from their playing, Alonzo
jumped towards us, causing the kittens to fall over each other in
shock. He ushered us with such urgency back around the large tire I
could sense something was wrong. All the Junkyard cats were awake and
crowded round. I had to jostle to get a satisfactory place to see what
it was they were watching with such intensity
My father sat beside Mistoffelees on the tire, whose mate, Victoria, had
her head despondently on his shoulder. I had not known Victoria when
she was an unattached kitten, when she was young and vivacious. Those
emotions were no part of her now, for her eyes were tired and sadder
than a rain puddle on a sunny day. Mistoffelees's face, too, was worn
with lines of unhappiness. And he had a far-off, disinterested look.
One I recognized; it was the one my mother had given me the last time
we'd spoken. Suddenly I knew what was wrong.
"Skylight," Mistoffelees whispered. Victoria looked at him sadly.
"Skylight is gone."
Everyone gasped except me. Somehow I'd known.
"When? How?"
"This morning," Mistoffelees answered cheerlessly.
"Are you sure he didn't wander off when you were leaving after the
Ball?" asked Demeter kindly.
"He went home with us," Mistoffelees continued. "We all took a nap a
few hours ago and when we woke up--" He stopped abruptly.
"He had disappeared," finished Victoria.
"Disappeared, as in magically?" Bombalurina asked.
"He doesn't have the skill to make himself disappear," Mistoffelees said
at length.
"And you can't find him using your own powers?" said Alonzo.
Mistoffelees sniffed. "No."
"So he was just there one moment and gone the next?" asked a baffled
Munkustrap. "It's almost like he was . . ."
"Catnapped," I whispered and everyone stared at me. The Junkyard was
silent enough to hear the distant sound of thunder. The cats looked at
each other.
Demeter shivered. "Macavity."
Everyone's eyes darted into the junk fearfully. "It can't be Macavity,"
Munkustrap said firmly, though the echo of his voice trembled. "He's
been gone for more than a year." This was true, but no one seemed to
share his view. The kittens clung together, and Mistoffelees's and
Victoria's eyes were raw with fear.
"What shall we do?" whispered Bombalurina.
"I suggest," Munkustrap said, "we notify as many cats of this
disappearance as we can." There was a general affirmation.
"And then what?" asked Victoria fiercely. "Sit here and wait for that
monster to destroy our baby?"
"Don't worry," Alonzo suddenly cut in. "Maybe the Twins will know where
to look." There was a soft murmur of assent.
"All right," said my father, his voice taking a commanding tone.
"Demeter, you'll go to Jenny and Jelly's house. Bombalurina, you'd
better go to the Tugger's, otherwise he might not come." Bombalurina
was seen to smile at this and Etcetera to let out a little sigh.
"Victoria and Misto, can you got to Cassandra's?" They nodded shakily.
"And Plato, why don't you get the Twins?" Likewise, Alonzo was sent off
to get Admetus.
When Pouncival asked whom he should get, Munkustrap told him he should
look after the kittens. After most of the cats had gone off on their
missions, to return with their news to the Junkyard, I approached my
father. "I'll go get Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer."
He looked at me sternly. "You will not." He lowered his voice. "I
don't know if anyone told you this, but they used to be operatives for
Macavity."
I blinked, shivering suddenly at the news. Was it true? I looked at my
father's eyes, and they did not lie. "They used to be," I said softly.
"Please don't condemn them for the past, Father. If we all were judged
by our pasts, there would be no future." He looked at me perplexedly.
I shivered again, my whiskers tickled. I looked up at the sky, which
had inexplicably filled with the darkest clouds I had ever seen. A wind
had risen up, blowing stray bits of paper over our heads.
The wind seemed to sing, and its song was a particular one: "Make
yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so
hap. Cheerly, good hearts!" He seemed to hear it, too, and feel the
chill that went with it.
"It's an evil day, Selene," he said. "Stay where it is safe."
I shook my head. "I can't abandon the fact that they're my friends.
Maybe they can help find Skylight."
"And you aren't afraid?" he sighed, my liberty clearly making an
impression on his authority.
I smiled shyly. "Love knows no fear."