Grounded, p.6
Grounded, page 6
“You guys go on ahead,” Nora says. “I’ll take her. I’m pretty sure none of us wants her to go by herself and get lost again.”
Nora looks at Feek pointedly when she says the “none of us” part.
“Oh—okay, thanks?” Feek says, pausing to watch Ruqi yank Nora away. He shakes his head, and I give him an “it’s okay, let it go” pat on his arm.
Feek gives me a nod and heads to the back of the store. Which is smart because Sami is lingering around the front, looking at a sporty duffel bag wistfully for some reason. He looks like a bunny that needs a hug, and I feel weirdly sad for a moment, like I should go over and check if he’s okay.
But then I see the employee standing behind the counter. He’s staring off into the distance, not really noticing us. Maybe that’s because his floppy brown hair almost covers his eyes. He looks like he’s way older than my brother, Adam, like maybe in his twenties or even older. He’s got on a white shirt with a skinny black tie and skinny pants.
I need to get to work. I carefully make my way around the perimeter of the store, my eyes scanning from top to bottom like I’m vacuuming in neat rows.
Once I finish zigzagging the middle of the store with my phone, I glance at the employee again. He’s still staring ahead.
I make my way to the counter. “Hi.”
He nods, his hands in his pockets as he leans against the shelf of purses behind him.
“So,” I start, “we’re looking for something.”
He still doesn’t glance at me. Does he have earbuds in his ears under his floppy hair? Is he listening to music or a podcast? Sometimes Adam does that while I’m trying to talk to him.
“But it’s not luggage, actually. That we’re looking for.” I emphasize “actually” to draw his attention to me. “It’s actually a cat.”
He finally looks down at me. “Are you kids here with an adult?”
“No . . .” I lean across the counter to read his name tag. “Jake. We’re not here with an adult. But you can still help us, right?”
“Look for your cat?” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not my job.”
“No, not my cat. But Snickerdoodle, you might know about her? The missing airport cat?” I give a quick glance around the store to check on Sami and Feek.
I give a discreet thumbs-up to Sami, who’s now looking at a rack of messenger bags.
I can’t see Feek from where I’m standing, but I hear the odd noise here and there that lets me know he’s rolling some cases. We’re the only people in the shop, so it’s kind of like being in a museum, where every sound is really sharp.
“Oh, I see. You saw the news about the latest lost pet and are trying to play detective.” Jake pulls his hands out of the skinny pockets with some difficulty and crosses his arms.
“She was last seen here,” I point out. “Did you notice anything?”
“An idea: Why don’t we let the airport take care of finding the cat?” Jake raises his eyebrows. Like he’s making a really good point, the same point Sami has made many times before.
But it’s not a good point because the airport has been looking for a week and they haven’t found anything.
“Over here, Hanna!” Feek yells from the back corner. “I found something.”
I rush over, with Jake following behind, suddenly activated.
Feek is pointing at a hard navy-blue carry-on. There’s a dusty-looking patch at the top, near the handle.
I bend over to take a closer look, running my finger on the patch a few times. That’s not dust like I first thought; it’s a lighter blue layer exposed underneath the outer case of the luggage.
Like what happens when sharp, catty claws scratch something hard.
“So Snickerdoodle is here!” I turn to Jake, unable to stop the accusatory tone in my voice, my fingers stabbing the suitcase. “This is a cat scratch.”
Jake bends over and examines the scratch too. And then he looks straight at Feek. “What did you do?”
“Me?” Feek’s face floods with emotion—shock, fear, and then anger. “I didn’t do this!”
“Before you got here, this was a perfectly good suitcase.” Jake shakes his head, his eyes piercing Feek’s like he’s pinning him in place. “And now it’s destroyed.”
Destroyed? I can’t believe what’s happening. Jake is actually accusing Feek of scratching the luggage! I frown and shake my head hard. “No, Mr. Jake. Feek didn’t do this.”
“Well, it’s not a cat that did it.” Jake points at the scratch. “This has been made with something broad, like a ring or something, not pointy cat nails. Which would be in stripes.”
Jake shoots a glance at the silver crescent ring on Feek’s thumb.
Feek curls up his hand, his fingers enclosing his ring in response.
“If this was a perfectly good suitcase, why is it in the clearance section?” Feek asks, pointing at the red LAST CHANCE SALE sign attached to the shelf, under which more navy-blue suitcases sit. I nod my head triumphantly.
Jake doesn’t answer. Instead he yanks his head toward the front entrance to the store, his arms back to being crossed at his chest. “Did you guys maybe notice, when you snuck in, that the gate was partly down? Which was a message for you to NOT come inside unless you’re actually going to be spending money? Because we’re closing in ten minutes? So exit now! Instead of scratching the luggage and blaming it on a lost cat!”
I can’t stop myself from glaring at him. “We have a right to look around the store,” I say, louder this time so Sami hears too. “So no thanks, we’re not leaving. We’ll keep looking around.”
“Hanna, let’s just go.” Feek pulls both his hands into fists and shoves them into his hoodie pockets. His face is a mixture of hurt and anger.
“But we can shop here too,” I appeal to Feek, my hands on my hips. Feek and me and Sami have a right to be treated just like any other customer.
“And what type of luggage are you ‘shopping’ for exactly?” Jake makes air quotes when he says “shopping.”
I look around. Sami is examining the duffel bags again. I raise my voice even louder. “A sports bag, right, Sami? We’re looking for a sports bag?”
Sami shakes his head, and I raise my eyebrows and nod quickly to let him know that’s the wrong answer. He nods and says, “Yes, a bag for my karate tournament.”
“Really? And you want a five-hundred-dollar luxury-brand gym bag for karate?” Jake raises his eyebrows. “Okay, I’ve had enough. I need to start closing up the shop. Out you go!”
Why is he exploding? Jake must know something.
His skinny tie and skinny pants and skinny pockets know something about Snickerdoodle.
For him to go from being an expressionless robot to screaming at us in literally ten minutes . . .
Feek shakes his head and mutters something under his breath and starts making his way to the entrance, but I put a hand out to stop him. “There’s four more minutes until store closing, so let’s keep investigating.” I look ahead to find . . . Sami? Where’s Sami?
He’s standing right outside the store, staring back at us. He probably took off when Jake started blowing up.
“Listen, did anyone tell you that you need to learn manners?” Jake makes shooing motions like me and Feek are a couple of flies—while he’s talking to us about manners. “You especially.” He points at me. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to respect adults? Or did she forget about that part?”
I stare at Jake for a moment and then turn away quickly as I feel my eyes getting hot.
Oh no, my lips are trembling.
Why did Jake have to bring up Mom?
It’s going to take me off my mission.
I can feel all the puffy pride deflating.
I feel limp.
Feek looks at me, and this time he pats my arm. “I said, let’s go, Hanna.” He tips his head to the front of the store.
“Ah, someone who actually listens,” Jake says. “Maybe you can give your friend here some pointers!”
When we get to the front of the store, me wiping my eyes before Sami sees them too, Feek turns around to Jake. “Pointers? I’ll give you some pointers. You are the worst store employee I’ve ever met. Your manners are uglier than them pants. Your breath stinks and you—”
“Get out or I’m calling security!” The man moves like he’s going to lunge toward us, and we leap out the door.
The metal grate clangs shut behind us so hard, we run.
We run only a few feet before Hanna slows, stops, then sits (almost drops, if I’m being honest) on the floor. I don’t know what else to do, so I sit across from her. Is she about to cry? Sami looks back at Zoomi and then back at us, eyes wide. Before he can speak, I shake my head. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, then sits too. We stare, but none of us see each other.
Instead, I see the way that man looked at me. Like I was a criminal. He’s probably racist, hates Muslims for sure. Black Muslims even more.
He’ll give us some pointers? We’re doing real things, trying to save animals and help heartbroken families. He’s just selling ugly bags and sporting cheap skinny jeans and bad hair to look half his age, but somehow he’s better than us?
“It’s just me on my own. And I don’t know how to do anything right,” Hanna says, like she’s muttering to herself.
“Hanna, you’re not on your own. We’re with you . . . Why are you upset?” I ask, confused.
“I . . . I forgot what a cat scratch looks like.” And, yeah, she’s crying. I don’t really get it, but then again, I know what it is to care a lot about something others don’t get.
Sami and I exchange glances, both of us silently asking the other to say something to make this whole thing better. But I got nothing. Sami opens his mouth but then closes it and looks away. I guess he’s got nothing too.
I clear my throat. “It was one mistake.”
“I couldn’t tell a cat scratch from a human one. That’s huge.”
“Are you sure Jake was telling the truth? I mean, first he tried to blame it on us. And then, when he couldn’t prove it, he looked nervous, like he was hiding something.”
“I saw that too,” Sami says.
“He wants us to feel like a bunch of dumb kids,” I say, getting mad again. “What if it’s because we’re right?”
“But how can I be sure we’re on the trail? I examined every inch of that store. No cat hair. Not a single one.” Hanna sniffles.
“We didn’t get to see all of the store. What if Snickerdoodle went behind the counter?” I ask, trying to rally her.
At this, Hanna swipes at her tears and stands. “You’re right . . . you’re right . . . but how do we get in to see?”
Sami shoots up. “Wait, let’s think about—”
I jump up too. We can do this. “Maybe I can talk another employee into letting us in.”
“But—” Sami says.
“What if we’re still wrong?” Hanna’s voice wavers. Where did the Hanna I met earlier go?
“What if we’re right?” I’m almost pleading. “Come on, Hanna. Don’t get knocked down by people like that Jake guy.” Something about seeing someone like Hanna so thoroughly defeated messes with me. I make a lot of mistakes. Our mistakes don’t mean we should give up, do they?
We can’t just quit, especially knowing who Snickerdoodle belongs to. Should I tell them? But the Hoffmans chose to not share their identities for a reason.
“Snickerdoodle! Snickerdoodle!” Ruqi sings out. She’s holding on to Nora’s hand while skipping over to us, and Nora kind of skips with her. Ruqi can’t simply walk like a normal person. I roll my eyes, but Nora is giggling. Nora sees me looking and switches to an all-about-business walk.
Hanna gives Ruqi a watery smile.
Ruqi smiles back at Hanna and opens her palm. “Don’t cwy. This is for you!”
Hanna gasps.
“That’s a—” Sami gapes.
“No way,” Nora whispers.
“What? What is this?” I take the silver trinket from her hand.
“A cat collar bell. Gucci, my cat, has one just like it,” Nora says.
“You have a cat named Gucci?” Hanna asks excitedly.
I snort at this, and Nora cuts her eyes at me.
I look down at the bell. “S is engraved on it!” I say to Ruqi. “Do you know what S is for? Ssssss-ssssss-snick—”
“Snickerdoodle!” she sounds out.
“Ruqi, where did you find this? In the bathroom?” I ask.
“Um . . . no . . .” Ruqi says.
“We didn’t see this in the bathroom,” Nora adds.
Ruqi spins around and then points. “Over there!”
In the distance, a mist of colorful lights surrounds moving walkways. A rainbow seems to dance on the ceiling above it, lighting up and going out, lighting up and going out, while the walls beam out pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows—the shades of sunset. The floors surrounding the flat escalators seem to be almost moving too, like a slow-moving river, reflecting back the dancing rainbows.
“Cooooool,” I hear myself say like an awestruck kid who’s never seen one of these walkways before. I have. Lots of times. Just not one like that.
“I mean, that could be a cool place for a cat,” I say.
Hanna considers. “The movator? Did you find the bell there, Ruqi?”
“Ruqi could’ve gone anywhere in the airport when she went missing earlier. It can’t hurt to look,” I say.
“We’re going farther away from our gates. What if Snickerdoodle isn’t even there?” Sami asks.
“Well, we have to check out any and all leads, don’t we?” Hanna says it more like a statement than a question.
Sami looks to Nora, whose face lights up as she swipes open NokNok on her phone, ready to post this wild light show.
“Maybe . . .” Sami whispers.
I try not to run, even as the dancing colors get wilder and bolder the nearer we get, and I can feel the others rushing behind me.
“Wait for me!” Ruqi calls, but I know the others got her.
Closer now, we gasp at what we see. The ceiling looks like a forest canopy of thick green leaves with colorful tropical birds that light up in a repeating pattern. Nora squeals as she holds up her phone to capture it. I hear her talk to her followers, but I’m too focused on following the path of the pattern to listen to what she’s saying.
We stop when we hear it.
“Was that—” Sami begins to ask my same question.
“It was!” Hanna and Nora exclaim together.
“Snickerdoodle!” Ruqi cries out. We all heard the shriek—a cat’s shriek.
We dash onto the walkway, looking around frantically. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. We’re finding Lala Hoffa’s cat! I picture myself shaking hands with Doc Hoffa. I picture myself on Storm the Stage!
But then, after a few moments, I notice Sami’s face scrunch up in confusion. We’re hearing other sounds. Bird sounds. Fake ones, coming from the forest leaves. One sound is almost like . . . the screeching of a cat.
“Ohhh,” Nora says as we step off the walkway.
Hanna’s face drops.
“That doesn’t mean the cat isn’t here. Ruqi found her collar bell!” I say, “Ruqi, where exactly did you see Snickerdoodle’s bell?”
“Um, um . . .” Ruqi makes a face I’ve seen before—the one she makes when she’s about to snitch a cookie because Mom isn’t looking.
But Ruqi couldn’t be lying. Why would she lie? Just to get on the movator? For a joyride? That joyride was sick! But still.
“Did you find Snickerdoodle’s bell over here somewhere?” Hanna asks, still hopeful.
“Um . . .” Ruqi turns around and around. She’s looking hard, like there is a place that she’s trying to remember.
“Think, Ruqi,” I urge.
“Over there!” Ruqi points across the hall to a subway-like silver train.
“The plane train, Ruqi?” I groan. Another joyride.
“Yes! There!” She jumps up and down.
“That goes to the international terminal,” Sami says. “Ruqi couldn’t have gone there and made it back on her own.”
Honestly, though, knowing Ruqi, a part of me wonders if she could find her way back. Hanna looks like she’s thinking it’s possible too.
Nora crouches down to Ruqi’s level. “Are you sure, habibti? Maybe it was just close to the plane train?”
That makes more sense. “Ruqi, you didn’t get on the train, did you? You saw the cat go close?” I ask.
Ruqi is now pointing above. “In the ceiling! Snickerdoodle goed there!”
Nora and Sami exchange glances. Hanna’s shoulders droop.
“I’m sorry, y’all. Sometimes, Ruqi makes things up,” I explain, embarrassed. Ruqi never gets when something is important.
“Up there!” Ruqi yells again.
“Stop it, Ruqi,” I grumble without looking at whatever ridiculous place she’s pointing to.
“Feek, look!” Ruqi stomps. She stomps whenever she can’t get her way. Because everything is about Ruqi getting her way. She’s even making the cat search about her.
“You’ve taken us far enough. We’re. Not. Going,” I grit out.
I snatch her hand and head back to the movator, not caring whether the others are following. She twists, trying to get out of my grasp, even hitting my arm with her free hand.
When she points and says, “Look, look!” I am exasperated.
“Shut it, Ruqi!”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to your sister,” Nora says.
“What? She’s the one—” I look at Sami and Hanna, who look away. “I wasn’t even mean—”
Ruqi points at me dramatically. “You mean!”
Nora takes Ruqi’s hand and turns toward the train.
“Hey, wait up!” I yell.
Hanna’s pocket meows, stopping all of us. She pulls out her phone—which meows two more times—and then she lets out a whoop.
Has Snickerdoodle been found?
I look down at my phone and immediately do a double take.
RainingCatsNDogs messaged me again! To respond to my message that our visit to Zoomi wasn’t successful. And the notification preview says, NOT THE DOMESTIC ZOOMI . . . I click on it without a second to lose. “Whoa! Oh wow, oh wow, wow!”
Nora looks at Feek pointedly when she says the “none of us” part.
“Oh—okay, thanks?” Feek says, pausing to watch Ruqi yank Nora away. He shakes his head, and I give him an “it’s okay, let it go” pat on his arm.
Feek gives me a nod and heads to the back of the store. Which is smart because Sami is lingering around the front, looking at a sporty duffel bag wistfully for some reason. He looks like a bunny that needs a hug, and I feel weirdly sad for a moment, like I should go over and check if he’s okay.
But then I see the employee standing behind the counter. He’s staring off into the distance, not really noticing us. Maybe that’s because his floppy brown hair almost covers his eyes. He looks like he’s way older than my brother, Adam, like maybe in his twenties or even older. He’s got on a white shirt with a skinny black tie and skinny pants.
I need to get to work. I carefully make my way around the perimeter of the store, my eyes scanning from top to bottom like I’m vacuuming in neat rows.
Once I finish zigzagging the middle of the store with my phone, I glance at the employee again. He’s still staring ahead.
I make my way to the counter. “Hi.”
He nods, his hands in his pockets as he leans against the shelf of purses behind him.
“So,” I start, “we’re looking for something.”
He still doesn’t glance at me. Does he have earbuds in his ears under his floppy hair? Is he listening to music or a podcast? Sometimes Adam does that while I’m trying to talk to him.
“But it’s not luggage, actually. That we’re looking for.” I emphasize “actually” to draw his attention to me. “It’s actually a cat.”
He finally looks down at me. “Are you kids here with an adult?”
“No . . .” I lean across the counter to read his name tag. “Jake. We’re not here with an adult. But you can still help us, right?”
“Look for your cat?” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not my job.”
“No, not my cat. But Snickerdoodle, you might know about her? The missing airport cat?” I give a quick glance around the store to check on Sami and Feek.
I give a discreet thumbs-up to Sami, who’s now looking at a rack of messenger bags.
I can’t see Feek from where I’m standing, but I hear the odd noise here and there that lets me know he’s rolling some cases. We’re the only people in the shop, so it’s kind of like being in a museum, where every sound is really sharp.
“Oh, I see. You saw the news about the latest lost pet and are trying to play detective.” Jake pulls his hands out of the skinny pockets with some difficulty and crosses his arms.
“She was last seen here,” I point out. “Did you notice anything?”
“An idea: Why don’t we let the airport take care of finding the cat?” Jake raises his eyebrows. Like he’s making a really good point, the same point Sami has made many times before.
But it’s not a good point because the airport has been looking for a week and they haven’t found anything.
“Over here, Hanna!” Feek yells from the back corner. “I found something.”
I rush over, with Jake following behind, suddenly activated.
Feek is pointing at a hard navy-blue carry-on. There’s a dusty-looking patch at the top, near the handle.
I bend over to take a closer look, running my finger on the patch a few times. That’s not dust like I first thought; it’s a lighter blue layer exposed underneath the outer case of the luggage.
Like what happens when sharp, catty claws scratch something hard.
“So Snickerdoodle is here!” I turn to Jake, unable to stop the accusatory tone in my voice, my fingers stabbing the suitcase. “This is a cat scratch.”
Jake bends over and examines the scratch too. And then he looks straight at Feek. “What did you do?”
“Me?” Feek’s face floods with emotion—shock, fear, and then anger. “I didn’t do this!”
“Before you got here, this was a perfectly good suitcase.” Jake shakes his head, his eyes piercing Feek’s like he’s pinning him in place. “And now it’s destroyed.”
Destroyed? I can’t believe what’s happening. Jake is actually accusing Feek of scratching the luggage! I frown and shake my head hard. “No, Mr. Jake. Feek didn’t do this.”
“Well, it’s not a cat that did it.” Jake points at the scratch. “This has been made with something broad, like a ring or something, not pointy cat nails. Which would be in stripes.”
Jake shoots a glance at the silver crescent ring on Feek’s thumb.
Feek curls up his hand, his fingers enclosing his ring in response.
“If this was a perfectly good suitcase, why is it in the clearance section?” Feek asks, pointing at the red LAST CHANCE SALE sign attached to the shelf, under which more navy-blue suitcases sit. I nod my head triumphantly.
Jake doesn’t answer. Instead he yanks his head toward the front entrance to the store, his arms back to being crossed at his chest. “Did you guys maybe notice, when you snuck in, that the gate was partly down? Which was a message for you to NOT come inside unless you’re actually going to be spending money? Because we’re closing in ten minutes? So exit now! Instead of scratching the luggage and blaming it on a lost cat!”
I can’t stop myself from glaring at him. “We have a right to look around the store,” I say, louder this time so Sami hears too. “So no thanks, we’re not leaving. We’ll keep looking around.”
“Hanna, let’s just go.” Feek pulls both his hands into fists and shoves them into his hoodie pockets. His face is a mixture of hurt and anger.
“But we can shop here too,” I appeal to Feek, my hands on my hips. Feek and me and Sami have a right to be treated just like any other customer.
“And what type of luggage are you ‘shopping’ for exactly?” Jake makes air quotes when he says “shopping.”
I look around. Sami is examining the duffel bags again. I raise my voice even louder. “A sports bag, right, Sami? We’re looking for a sports bag?”
Sami shakes his head, and I raise my eyebrows and nod quickly to let him know that’s the wrong answer. He nods and says, “Yes, a bag for my karate tournament.”
“Really? And you want a five-hundred-dollar luxury-brand gym bag for karate?” Jake raises his eyebrows. “Okay, I’ve had enough. I need to start closing up the shop. Out you go!”
Why is he exploding? Jake must know something.
His skinny tie and skinny pants and skinny pockets know something about Snickerdoodle.
For him to go from being an expressionless robot to screaming at us in literally ten minutes . . .
Feek shakes his head and mutters something under his breath and starts making his way to the entrance, but I put a hand out to stop him. “There’s four more minutes until store closing, so let’s keep investigating.” I look ahead to find . . . Sami? Where’s Sami?
He’s standing right outside the store, staring back at us. He probably took off when Jake started blowing up.
“Listen, did anyone tell you that you need to learn manners?” Jake makes shooing motions like me and Feek are a couple of flies—while he’s talking to us about manners. “You especially.” He points at me. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to respect adults? Or did she forget about that part?”
I stare at Jake for a moment and then turn away quickly as I feel my eyes getting hot.
Oh no, my lips are trembling.
Why did Jake have to bring up Mom?
It’s going to take me off my mission.
I can feel all the puffy pride deflating.
I feel limp.
Feek looks at me, and this time he pats my arm. “I said, let’s go, Hanna.” He tips his head to the front of the store.
“Ah, someone who actually listens,” Jake says. “Maybe you can give your friend here some pointers!”
When we get to the front of the store, me wiping my eyes before Sami sees them too, Feek turns around to Jake. “Pointers? I’ll give you some pointers. You are the worst store employee I’ve ever met. Your manners are uglier than them pants. Your breath stinks and you—”
“Get out or I’m calling security!” The man moves like he’s going to lunge toward us, and we leap out the door.
The metal grate clangs shut behind us so hard, we run.
We run only a few feet before Hanna slows, stops, then sits (almost drops, if I’m being honest) on the floor. I don’t know what else to do, so I sit across from her. Is she about to cry? Sami looks back at Zoomi and then back at us, eyes wide. Before he can speak, I shake my head. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, then sits too. We stare, but none of us see each other.
Instead, I see the way that man looked at me. Like I was a criminal. He’s probably racist, hates Muslims for sure. Black Muslims even more.
He’ll give us some pointers? We’re doing real things, trying to save animals and help heartbroken families. He’s just selling ugly bags and sporting cheap skinny jeans and bad hair to look half his age, but somehow he’s better than us?
“It’s just me on my own. And I don’t know how to do anything right,” Hanna says, like she’s muttering to herself.
“Hanna, you’re not on your own. We’re with you . . . Why are you upset?” I ask, confused.
“I . . . I forgot what a cat scratch looks like.” And, yeah, she’s crying. I don’t really get it, but then again, I know what it is to care a lot about something others don’t get.
Sami and I exchange glances, both of us silently asking the other to say something to make this whole thing better. But I got nothing. Sami opens his mouth but then closes it and looks away. I guess he’s got nothing too.
I clear my throat. “It was one mistake.”
“I couldn’t tell a cat scratch from a human one. That’s huge.”
“Are you sure Jake was telling the truth? I mean, first he tried to blame it on us. And then, when he couldn’t prove it, he looked nervous, like he was hiding something.”
“I saw that too,” Sami says.
“He wants us to feel like a bunch of dumb kids,” I say, getting mad again. “What if it’s because we’re right?”
“But how can I be sure we’re on the trail? I examined every inch of that store. No cat hair. Not a single one.” Hanna sniffles.
“We didn’t get to see all of the store. What if Snickerdoodle went behind the counter?” I ask, trying to rally her.
At this, Hanna swipes at her tears and stands. “You’re right . . . you’re right . . . but how do we get in to see?”
Sami shoots up. “Wait, let’s think about—”
I jump up too. We can do this. “Maybe I can talk another employee into letting us in.”
“But—” Sami says.
“What if we’re still wrong?” Hanna’s voice wavers. Where did the Hanna I met earlier go?
“What if we’re right?” I’m almost pleading. “Come on, Hanna. Don’t get knocked down by people like that Jake guy.” Something about seeing someone like Hanna so thoroughly defeated messes with me. I make a lot of mistakes. Our mistakes don’t mean we should give up, do they?
We can’t just quit, especially knowing who Snickerdoodle belongs to. Should I tell them? But the Hoffmans chose to not share their identities for a reason.
“Snickerdoodle! Snickerdoodle!” Ruqi sings out. She’s holding on to Nora’s hand while skipping over to us, and Nora kind of skips with her. Ruqi can’t simply walk like a normal person. I roll my eyes, but Nora is giggling. Nora sees me looking and switches to an all-about-business walk.
Hanna gives Ruqi a watery smile.
Ruqi smiles back at Hanna and opens her palm. “Don’t cwy. This is for you!”
Hanna gasps.
“That’s a—” Sami gapes.
“No way,” Nora whispers.
“What? What is this?” I take the silver trinket from her hand.
“A cat collar bell. Gucci, my cat, has one just like it,” Nora says.
“You have a cat named Gucci?” Hanna asks excitedly.
I snort at this, and Nora cuts her eyes at me.
I look down at the bell. “S is engraved on it!” I say to Ruqi. “Do you know what S is for? Ssssss-ssssss-snick—”
“Snickerdoodle!” she sounds out.
“Ruqi, where did you find this? In the bathroom?” I ask.
“Um . . . no . . .” Ruqi says.
“We didn’t see this in the bathroom,” Nora adds.
Ruqi spins around and then points. “Over there!”
In the distance, a mist of colorful lights surrounds moving walkways. A rainbow seems to dance on the ceiling above it, lighting up and going out, lighting up and going out, while the walls beam out pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows—the shades of sunset. The floors surrounding the flat escalators seem to be almost moving too, like a slow-moving river, reflecting back the dancing rainbows.
“Cooooool,” I hear myself say like an awestruck kid who’s never seen one of these walkways before. I have. Lots of times. Just not one like that.
“I mean, that could be a cool place for a cat,” I say.
Hanna considers. “The movator? Did you find the bell there, Ruqi?”
“Ruqi could’ve gone anywhere in the airport when she went missing earlier. It can’t hurt to look,” I say.
“We’re going farther away from our gates. What if Snickerdoodle isn’t even there?” Sami asks.
“Well, we have to check out any and all leads, don’t we?” Hanna says it more like a statement than a question.
Sami looks to Nora, whose face lights up as she swipes open NokNok on her phone, ready to post this wild light show.
“Maybe . . .” Sami whispers.
I try not to run, even as the dancing colors get wilder and bolder the nearer we get, and I can feel the others rushing behind me.
“Wait for me!” Ruqi calls, but I know the others got her.
Closer now, we gasp at what we see. The ceiling looks like a forest canopy of thick green leaves with colorful tropical birds that light up in a repeating pattern. Nora squeals as she holds up her phone to capture it. I hear her talk to her followers, but I’m too focused on following the path of the pattern to listen to what she’s saying.
We stop when we hear it.
“Was that—” Sami begins to ask my same question.
“It was!” Hanna and Nora exclaim together.
“Snickerdoodle!” Ruqi cries out. We all heard the shriek—a cat’s shriek.
We dash onto the walkway, looking around frantically. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. We’re finding Lala Hoffa’s cat! I picture myself shaking hands with Doc Hoffa. I picture myself on Storm the Stage!
But then, after a few moments, I notice Sami’s face scrunch up in confusion. We’re hearing other sounds. Bird sounds. Fake ones, coming from the forest leaves. One sound is almost like . . . the screeching of a cat.
“Ohhh,” Nora says as we step off the walkway.
Hanna’s face drops.
“That doesn’t mean the cat isn’t here. Ruqi found her collar bell!” I say, “Ruqi, where exactly did you see Snickerdoodle’s bell?”
“Um, um . . .” Ruqi makes a face I’ve seen before—the one she makes when she’s about to snitch a cookie because Mom isn’t looking.
But Ruqi couldn’t be lying. Why would she lie? Just to get on the movator? For a joyride? That joyride was sick! But still.
“Did you find Snickerdoodle’s bell over here somewhere?” Hanna asks, still hopeful.
“Um . . .” Ruqi turns around and around. She’s looking hard, like there is a place that she’s trying to remember.
“Think, Ruqi,” I urge.
“Over there!” Ruqi points across the hall to a subway-like silver train.
“The plane train, Ruqi?” I groan. Another joyride.
“Yes! There!” She jumps up and down.
“That goes to the international terminal,” Sami says. “Ruqi couldn’t have gone there and made it back on her own.”
Honestly, though, knowing Ruqi, a part of me wonders if she could find her way back. Hanna looks like she’s thinking it’s possible too.
Nora crouches down to Ruqi’s level. “Are you sure, habibti? Maybe it was just close to the plane train?”
That makes more sense. “Ruqi, you didn’t get on the train, did you? You saw the cat go close?” I ask.
Ruqi is now pointing above. “In the ceiling! Snickerdoodle goed there!”
Nora and Sami exchange glances. Hanna’s shoulders droop.
“I’m sorry, y’all. Sometimes, Ruqi makes things up,” I explain, embarrassed. Ruqi never gets when something is important.
“Up there!” Ruqi yells again.
“Stop it, Ruqi,” I grumble without looking at whatever ridiculous place she’s pointing to.
“Feek, look!” Ruqi stomps. She stomps whenever she can’t get her way. Because everything is about Ruqi getting her way. She’s even making the cat search about her.
“You’ve taken us far enough. We’re. Not. Going,” I grit out.
I snatch her hand and head back to the movator, not caring whether the others are following. She twists, trying to get out of my grasp, even hitting my arm with her free hand.
When she points and says, “Look, look!” I am exasperated.
“Shut it, Ruqi!”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to your sister,” Nora says.
“What? She’s the one—” I look at Sami and Hanna, who look away. “I wasn’t even mean—”
Ruqi points at me dramatically. “You mean!”
Nora takes Ruqi’s hand and turns toward the train.
“Hey, wait up!” I yell.
Hanna’s pocket meows, stopping all of us. She pulls out her phone—which meows two more times—and then she lets out a whoop.
Has Snickerdoodle been found?
I look down at my phone and immediately do a double take.
RainingCatsNDogs messaged me again! To respond to my message that our visit to Zoomi wasn’t successful. And the notification preview says, NOT THE DOMESTIC ZOOMI . . . I click on it without a second to lose. “Whoa! Oh wow, oh wow, wow!”
