Read Online The Cats in the Doll Shop by Yona Zeldis McDonough - Free Book Online Page B

now.” Since Sophie is wearing her hair down today, with only a thin maroon headband securing it, she does that hair-tossing thing she likes to do. “Besides,” she adds, “it’s not like I got her in trouble. Mama and Papa weren’t even angry.”
    â€œI know,” I say. “But you made her think you don’t like her.”
    â€œI don’t,” Sophie says calmly.
    â€œHow can you say that?” I cry. “Especially after what we just heard?”
    â€œWhen you’re as old as I am, you’ll understand.” She tosses her hair—again.
    If getting older means being as cold and unfeeling as Sophie is right now, then I hope I stay eleven forever and ever.

10
    T HE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE
    Over the next months, it is clear that while my sisters and my cousin are not exactly enemies, they are not friends either. Sophie avoids Tania. It’s as if she is not there. And Trudie seems to follow Sophie’s lead. They seem to have given up on Tania. But I haven’t. And neither should they. Do they know that she is an excellent seamstress? Mama gives her some mending to help with, and her work is perfect. And when I look at her notebooks, I see the most wonderful doodles. She draws trees and houses and faces. But she mostly fills the margins of her notebook with horses, cows, rabbits, dogs, wolves, and of course cats, which seem to be her favorite. There is so much to like about Tania. I wish my sisters could see it.
    But even Sophie has to grudgingly admit that Tania has a special way with animals. Thanks to Tania, Ginger Cat has become tame enough in these last few weeks to be considered our pet. While we have not actually seen her catch a mouse, we have no more little gray visitors, either upstairs or down, so we can assume that she is doing her job. She sleeps in the kitchen, on a cushion Tania has sewn for her, and every morning and evening, Tania faithfully sets out her dish of table scraps and her bowl of fresh water. Ginger Cat, now sleek and satisfied, allows herself to be stroked and scratched by all of us, though Tania is her clear favorite.

    But if Ginger Cat is thriving, Plucky is not. From my rooftop perch, I can see that he looks even thinner and more matted. The days are short now, and the weather is cold. If Plucky is not well, he won’t make it through the winter.
    One early December day I notice something else even more troubling. There are trails of what look like white powder all along the edges of the yard on the other side of the fence, the yard where I have seen Plucky roaming. At first I think it is snow. But snow would not fall in such a neat, boxlike pattern. It has to be something else.
    I look up at the fire escape where Plucky was born. The window is shut tightly, and a curtain hides whatever is going on inside. I think of the man with the mustache and his cruel broom. Does he have something to do with the white powder?
    I don’t want to ask Papa, since he will tell me to stay away from Plucky. I would ask Tania, but even though she seems to understand a few words, I still can’t talk to her. Since I need advice now , I ask Sophie to come up to the roof with me. The wind blows our hair around our faces and seems to go right through my coat.
    â€œThere,” I say, pointing to the white trail that snakes around the yard’s edges. “Can you see it?”
    â€œI can see it, but I wish I didn’t,” says Sophie grimly. “Anna, that powder is poison. If Plucky eats it, he’ll die.”
    â€œPoison!” I exclaim. “How do you know?”
    â€œI’ve seen it before. People sprinkle it in lines like that to kill rats. Papa told me about it.”
    â€œAre there rats in that yard?” I ask.
    â€œMaybe,” says Sophie. “Or it could be that someone is putting it down for Plucky.” Sophie doesn’t need to say who that someone is. We both know perfectly well. If I had