Page 48 of Hell's Kitten

I’m drawn from my thoughts as Leah and I are walking past the library, and suddenly Clayton the raccoon pops out again in front of us. Leah and I both gasp and jump, but he doesn’t pay any attention to us. He’s too busy dashing around the side of the library with what looks like some sort of dishcloth in his mouth. It’s trailing under his body between his legs as he runs out of sight.

“Weird,” Leah says with a chuckle, shaking her head. “I’ve only ever seen him carrying food.”

“Yeah, I saw him with a whole box of chicken tenders last week,” I admit. “Before that, it was cupcakes.”

“All near here?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” I admit. “I guess he lives close by?”

She shakes her head. “No, he lives by the dumpsters behind the east dorms. At least he did in my day. We used to feed him veggies and nuts and stuff.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course some of the boys fed him popcorn and beef jerky, but I checked and technically it’s not the worst for raccoons.”

“So what’s he doing hanging around here then?” I ask.

She nods thoughtfully. Without saying anything, we both begin to walk around the side of the library.

I didn’t realize, but there’s a secluded little rose garden. There’s a pretty semicircle stone bench with carved legs to sit on and wind chimes hanging from brackets on the brick wall.

Among the flowers I see bright white stones nestled in winding patterns as well as little stone statues of what I think are trolls and goblins. Something about their chubby cheeks and naughty grins makes me think they’re Scandinavian for some reason. Perhaps I saw them in a fairy tale book when I was little.

Some of the stones section off a rectangular herb garden. I don’t know much, but I think I recognize lavender, mint, and chamomile. Next to that is a reasonably thick tree stump with a small door carved into it and creamy mushrooms that look like pancakes growing off the sides of the bark.

“Wow,” Leah says.

“Right?” I agree. “Did you know this was here?”

She gives me a nervous laugh. “I’ve probably walked past here hundreds of times. Before today, I would have sworn it just led to a dingy alleyway. I never bothered taking a closer look.”

“Huh,” I say. “Weird.”

“Speaking of which,” Leah says as she looks around. “Where’s our little thief gone?”

I frown and turn on the spot, scanning the foliage. “Oh my god. Look.”

Underneath a shrub, behind a bed of purple pansies so dark they look almost black, is a nest. I have to crouch down tosee properly, but the edge of the dishcloth is poking out of the foliage. All of a sudden, Clayton’s bandit face pops out, and he hisses at us.

“Yikes,” I say, jerking backward. Clayton comes farther out, wringing his little hands. As he does, he moves the branches around.

That’s when I see alotof empty food cartons, a bunch of old rags and clothes, and in the middle of it all lies a black cat.

I’m no expert, but from her distended belly and panting, I’d say she’s in labor.

“Oh, fuck,” I cry, looking up at Leah. “Uh…I think we might need help.”

“Help with what?”

We both look behind us to see that small a Black woman with very short blonde hair has appeared. Her jeans are ripped in that artfully-on-purpose sort of way, and she’s got several ear and facial piercings.

“Oh, hi,” Leah says a little breathlessly. “Uh…do you know anything about cats?”

“Cats?” the young woman repeats. But she crouches down beside us to look under the bush and gasps. “Oh, right. I see what you mean.”

Clayton is pacing anxiously behind us on all fours. I glance between him and the black mama cat, feeling a bit confused.

“He’s not the…”

“Father?” Leah asks before both the women bust out laughing. “No, Jessie. That’s not how nature works. But maybe he’s been looking after her or something. He’s certainly made her a nice place to give birth.”

Yeah, she’s got a point. I’m too anxious to be thinking straight. Of course raccoons and cats can’t have babies. But maybe she’s onto something in thinking for whatever reason ourfriendly little campus trash panda might be acting as a sort of stepdad.

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