Catnip

03 | In Which Caleb Makes a Deal With the Devil

"What if I really am sorry?"

"Dear god."

"Like, what if your roof catches fire and when we're rushing down the stairs to escape I trip you up and, like, you sprain your ankle or something," Daniel says. "And I don't notice it so I kinda just leave you there, not intentionally but like, on accident, and then I try to come back for you but I find your cat instead so I try to lift her, but then I can't lift her and you at the same time, so I leave you again–"

Caleb bursts out laughing. For the first time since the school bell rang and Caleb was forced to endure Daniel following him home in that craptastic truck of his, he thinks that maybe this ordeal won't be so bad after all.

"What?" Daniel smiles ruefully. "Stranger things have happened!"

"You're so fucking weird," he says, and this time it's not entirely an insult.

"Well anyway, speaking of the cat," Daniel says. "Where is she?"

"In the kitchen. We had to lock her in before she scratched the fuck out the sofa."

"Well then, lead the way!" He grins, his enthusiasm tangible, leaving Caleb no choice but to do just that.

The moment he opens the kitchen door, it advances. He's no time to backtrack or jump for cover, only has time to process the blur of movement on the floor before a set of paws are wrapping around his leg, claws unsheathed. It's almost as if she's been standing by the door this whole time, tensed and ready to pounce, hyperaware of the presence of humans in the house. This is what his mom calls playing? More like attempting homicide.

"Hey!" Caleb shakes his leg in an attempt to shove it away. "Let go, you mutt!"

"She's not a mutt," Daniel says. "She's a feline."

"Any animal that tries to claw my fucking leg off is a mutt."

He rolls his eyes and crouches beside said mutt, tapping his fingers against the tiles. She freezes, her grip on Caleb's leg loosening, neck craning in Daniel's direction.

"That's it," he says, smiling. "C'mon, buddy."

Tiring of Caleb (finally), she drops to all fours and slinks forward, stomach level with the floor in a snake-like manner. He's seen this move before. It's what he's dubbed her cautious-predator-crawl, something she resorts to when she catches sight of something she can pounce at. (That something usually being him, of course. Damn mutt.)

Daniel backs away slowly, still tap-tap-tapping at the floor. She follows at an equally careful pace, eyes locked on the boy's hand, and Caleb scoffs from his safe position behind her.

"Congrats," he says dryly. "You've just labelled yourself easy prey."

"She's only a kitten."

"And your point is?"

"She's not gonna hurt me."

"Dude, are you really that naïve?"  He steps forward, trailing behind whatshername. "See what she's doing right now? That's not her playing with you. That's her eyeing up your hand to chew on."

"Relax, I know what I'm doing. Just watch, all right?"

He sighs but gives in, crossing his arms over his chest. Whatshername slinks forward at Daniel's encouragement, tracking his movements, closing in, and just when Daniel backs himself into a corner, she attacks. Springs toward him in one swift pounce, claws ready. But she doesn't scratch him. She just . . . taps him. With the pad of her paw, almost gentle in her actions. Like she's more curious than predatory.