January/February 2003

Tick. Tick. Tick. I lay on my bed on Saturday morning, flat on my back with my watch pressed to my ear. I listened to the patient, steady ticks. Tick. Tick. Tick. The house was empty except for my dad and me, and he was down in the basement, working in his studio. Mom was out on one of her short trips from the house, grocery shopping. Dylan, my older brother, was hanging out at the mall with some of his more distasteful friends. I was glad he was out of the house—he could be incredibly annoying at times—but without Mom and with Dad practically nonexistent in his studio, I was all alone except for Emilia. Emilia was my new baby sister that was just born a few weeks ago. I had been frequently assigned to watch over her. I wasn’t used to a baby in the house. She made me nervous and cried at night so that I hardly got any sleep, and I hardly got any sleep already. That was because of Silver Blue. I stooped and rubbed behind Silver Blue’s ear with the tip of my finger; she liked that Silver Blue had been my cat, my beautiful Siamese cat with her big blue eyes and delicate wedge-shaped face. She had started out as just Blue in the beginning; her brilliant blue eyes deserved a name, my whole family agreed, but I decided she would be Silver Blue. Silver Blue’s eyes were special. They were blue, of course, and big and curious; but they had odd little flecks of silvery here and there. I had loved her. I still loved her. Silver Blue had been a house cat. She almost never went outside, but Dylan had opened the door . . . that morning was emblazoned in my mind. Unwillingly, in my mind’s eye, I saw it happen again. *          *          * I stepped down the stairs in just my nightgown, tousle-haired and yawning. The carpet felt rough under my bare feet. It was early, almost five o’clock in the morning, an especially cold, brisk morning in the middle of winter. The house felt icy; I was going to make some hot chocolate for myself before going back to bed. A flash of creamy white fur materialized at my feet, and a familiar mewling filled the heavy, morning-like silence. I stooped and rubbed behind Silver Blue’s ear with the tip of my finger; she liked that. Purring, she nipped my toes lovingly and wove around my cold feet, warming them up. And asking for food. Smiling, I made my way past the door and to the kitchen, talking to her as I went. “Sorry, Sil, not this early. Better luck later.” Silver Blue mewed again and trotted beside me hopefully as I entered the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk. Her empty food bowl was on the opposite wall, but I walked purposefully away from it. Clearly she did not understand, but Silver Blue the Siamese had a reputation for being patient. She sat on her haunches, watching unblinkingly with those big, silver-flecked eyes, and mewled. Then she sauntered over, butted her head against my ankles, set her claws into my nightgown and stared up at me. I looked right back at her until it got unbearable. I laughed as quietly as I could and tossed her a cat treat. “Here you go, Sil, I think you could weasel a treat out of a hungry fox.” Silver Blue wolfed down the treat and was back at it again, her odd eyes just shouting for another. “Krista!” Someone thundered down the stairs, calling my name in surprise. Silver Blue’s creamy, dark-tipped ear twitched around toward the noise and back again. She did not turn, but kept watching me. I detached her claws and coolly started to work, getting the chocolate syrup from the pantry and squeezing it into my glass of milk. It was Dylan, not my mother or father; I wasn’t in trouble. I pretended to ignore him as he raced partway into the kitchen, causing Silver Blue to leap out of the way, mewling. “What,” Dylan burst out, “are you doing up so—oh, well, I don’t care anyway. I have to be up early!” “Why?” I asked, mixing my milk with the chocolate syrup. “The newspaper, of course!” I hid my surprise; Dylan wasn’t one to read the newspaper. In fact, he almost never read at all of his own free will. “Why?” I repeated, taking up my glass and turning to the microwave. “The hockey game, stupid!” Dylan sneered, “Mom and Dad didn’t let me stay up to watch it because I have a science test tomorrow and they said I need my sleep. Ha! Well anyway, I need to see the results in the newspaper! I bet it’s front-page!” He leapt for the door and wrenched it open; a flurry of snow blew in as he sprang outside. “Don’t let Silver Blue . . .” Still holding the not-so-hot chocolate, I hurried over just in time to see Silver Blue bounding out. “Silver Blue! Come back, Sil!” I leapt over to catch her, spilling milk and chocolate on the tiles, staring out the door and not caring. What I witnessed next made my heart nearly stop. Silver Blue, looking exultant and mewling excitedly, the sound I knew so well, was in the middle of the road. “Silver Blue!” Heartbeats, that was all, and then a car careened straight into my cat, my faithful companion for years that I loved so much; and then she was gone. The glass slipped from my numbed fingers and crashed to the floor; I didn’t notice my alarmed father rushing down the stairs because of the noise, or Emilia wailing upstairs. Still barefoot and in my nightgown, I raced out the door and onto the street, ignoring cars screeching to a halt as I came running. The car who had hit Silver Blue had stopped, sideways