Hissy Fitz by Patrick Jennings Read Free Book Online Page B

yelling.
    “I hope so, too,” I say.

24.
Awake in a Dream
    I hear the clock in the living room ticking. I hear the little snorts Dad makes when he sleeps. I hear my paws on the linoleum. That’s how quiet it is in the house.
    I glide through the kitchen and up the stairs to Georgie’s room. She’s on her bed, out cold, her arms and legs pointing in odd directions. Her blanket and sheet are in a knot. She tosses and turns when she sleeps, which can be challenging. I don’t want to be wakened by an elbow or a flying kick. I consider moving to her little stuffed chair, but I want Georgie’s warmth. I want her next to me. It makes no sense, but I miss her.
    I leap onto the bed and nestle in beside her. She’s on her side, breathing softly, her belly rising and falling against me. She’s warm indeed. I purr.
Prrrrrrrrrr
.
    I believe there are a few precious hours left before the dawn. Zeb usually sleeps till the sun comes up, but there’s no telling what will happen when it comes to Zebediah Irwin Fitz. As splendid as it is lying here, enjoying the silence and Georgie’s warmth, I close my eyes.
    I am a lion perched on a mountain ledge, looking down over a green valley. A herd of hoofed, antlered animals graze below. Gazelles? I can’t tell from this distance. My stomach growls, but I am too tired to move. I roar.
RrrOWRRRR!
The animals stop eating and lift their heads in unison. Then they begin to run away. They move left, then right, then left, as if they were one creature. I watch until I can’t keep my eyelids open any longer. They slide shut.
    “Hissy cat!” Zeb screams.
    My eyes open. He is looming over me, a villainous grin on his face. In his hand, raised over his head, is a hammer.
    Hssssssssss!
I say, and jump back. My eyes open, for real this time, and I find myself on Georgie’s bed. It was a nightmare within a dream. I did hiss, though, which causes Georgie to stir.
    “Hissy?” she asks groggily.
    I wriggle against her, letting her know that, yes, it’s me. I’m hoping that she’s too drowsy to wake up, that she’ll drop back to sleep. I purr, hoping it will lull her.
    She sets her hand on my back. It’s heavy with slumber. I think I’m okay.

    She abruptly brings her knee upward, into my belly. I stifle a groan. I scoot out from under her hand, away from the knee, toward her chest. She lies still. She’s drifting off. I close my eyes. She twists, her right arm swinging through the air, pulling her onto her other side. I edge up to her back, which is now next to me. This tossing and turning could go on for a while. Should I leap to the chair?
    No, I’ll stick it out.
    Her breathing again deepens, and she seems as lifeless as a rag doll. I lie as still as I can, waiting. After a minute or two, I allow myself to believe the scuffle is over.
    I close my eyes and hope for more restful dreams.
    I am in a rocking rowboat, but I am not seasick. I sit at the back of the boat, on a wooden bench. I hold my head high and breathe in the salty sea air. It’s refreshing. I widen my eyes and gaze out at the horizon. If I can keep from falling asleep in my dream, I may just get the sleep I need.

25.
Up

    “Hissy cat!” Zeb yells.
    I open my eyes.
    Zeb is up.
    So is the sun, and Georgie.
    So am I.
    It’s another day, wide awake, with the Fitzes.
    Hssssssssss!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    Thanks to the writers of
    West Hills Middle School, 2012.