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My Side of Misty Popularity: A Confession by Michael Thyre In Chapter 14, page 230, Sarah discovers our pet cat Sylvester
dead inside a cooler. Some days earlier, I’d crawled up to
a honeybee sucking on a clover out in the yard, cupped my hand
over it. Later, as I sat watching My Little Pony, baking soda caked
on my palm over the sting, Sylvester padded by in front of the
T.V. I jumped up and followed her crooked tail out onto the back
porch. Her claws pulsed against my forearms, making biscuits. I liked to catch animals and keep them in cages. No cages out here in the shed. Just a rusty ladder, some mushrooms growing in the corner, a red cooler. Hmmm. I dropped Sylvester into the cooler. Nothing better to do. She looked up at me. "Meow?" I dropped the lid back down and went off to draw a picture of a tiger on the blank pages at the beginning of the World Book Encyclopedia, Volume 1. A for Animal. I drew a chain of goldfish and bumblebees. The front door slammed. The hardwood floor groaned under approaching footsteps. I ran into the hall closet. Its door closed
with a stuttering creak. Darkness. I sat on top of a tangle of
sandals and sneakers and Mom’s long-forgotten high heels.
My feet slid into the toes of a pair of sequined pumps. Standing,
I pushed through a curtain of clothes on hangers and leaned against
the back wall. The smell of mothballs crawled up my nose. I thought
it best to lay low for a while. |
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