Midnight Girl Part 2

"Nothing. It almost hit a dog, too. I'm okay, but that guy should be caught."

"Don't worry, Miss. He should be easy to find."

Cat gave her name, address, and phone number, thanked the dispatcher, and clicked off her cell. Tarika said, "Cat? You sure you're good?"

She nodded for Tarika's sake, not because she believed it. "Good enough. Gooder, anyway. Where did the wolf-whatzit come from?"

"Totally nowhere. Did you see its teeth? If it catches the van, that duck's dinner."

"A wolf can't hurt a van."

"If that one was after me, I wouldn't feel safe in a tank." Tarika hugged Cat again. "I'm just glad it likes you."

"Totally ditto." Tarika released her and stepped back. "Cat?" "What?" "Remember me talking about the new boy in karate? The cute one?" "Not the cute one in your painting cla.s.s?" "No." "Or the cute one in your dance cla.s.s?" "Cat, this isn't about my infinite crushing. It's serious." "The tenth-grader? Ilya something?" Tarika nodded. "Ilya Arkan." Cat stared at her. "We should call the cops back." "You told them the name on the van. Let them handle it." "Right." As they started toward school, Cat said, "Could it have been Ilya?" "No way!"

"Good." "I mean, it couldn't have been." "Because he's cute?" "And nice. And why would he wear a mask if he was driving a truck with his last name on it?" Tarika shook her head. "Too weird, Catgirl. Definitely let the police handle it. Hey, who were you talking to earlier?"

"My cousin Baldomero. Now tell me he's the cutest boy ever." "Cute?" Tarika shrugged. "I didn't notice." "Wait. La Artista Who Notices All The Cute People didn't notice Baldomero?" "I just noticed you were talking to some guy." Her frown deepened.

"I don't remember what he looked like. A really ordinary guy, right?" Cat laughed. "A really ordinary, absolutely gorgeous, kind of scary guy. I'm not the only one kind of shook up by that van." "Scary?"

Cat said, "Like--" and stopped before she spoke the rest of her thought. Golden eyes.

"Like what?" "This sounds crazy." "Like that'll surprise me." "Kind of like a wolf." Tarika stared at Cat while Cat thought, I sound like I've gone crazy.

Maybe I have.

Then Tarika smiled. "After this morning, you'll be seeing wolves all day. I hope they catch that dog soon."

"Definitely ditto."

Because they arrived ten minutes late, Cat and Tarika were sent straight to the princ.i.p.al's office. Lovejoy, standing behind the front desk, towered over them, even over Tarika. He wore his usual dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie. He said, "Catalina Medianoche and Tarika Soto. It's always a pleasure to start my day with you two ladies. One week detention hall, starting today, for the Blues Sisters."

Cat said, "Why?" "You know the costume policy." "Are you in a costume?" "Of course not."

"Then we're not."

"Hmm." He stroked his goatee. "Obviously you are, or you wouldn't have been sent here."

Tarika said, "We were sent here because we were late." Lovejoy nodded. "Better and better. Two weeks detention." Tarika said, "Because Cat was nearly run over!" Lovejoy blinked at Cat. "Is this a joke?"

Cat shook her head. "Call the police. We made a 9-1-1."

Lovejoy said, "Wait here," and went in his office. After a minute, he came back and said gently, "Sorry. No detention. You may go back to cla.s.s." He turned to the mirror and straightened his tie. "After all, can't blame you for wanting to look sharp."

Cat said, "Sir? Did they find the driver?"

"Just the van," Lovejoy replied. "A few blocks from where it was stolen. It must've been a kid on a joyride."

Tarika said, "It was stolen?"

Lovejoy nodded. "Which is not your problem now. Your problem is getting back to cla.s.s while you still have my sympathy. That's good for another forty-five seconds." He glanced at his watch. "No, thirty-five. No, twenty-five--"

Tarika tugged Cat's wrist. "We're gone."

In the hallt, Cat smiled at Tarika. "I could turn cartwheels all the way to cla.s.s."

"Because we didn't get detention?" "Because the weird is over. Halloween can be normal now." "Maybe there should be some weird on Halloween." "Yeah. Predictable weird, like people in brilliant costumes, and surprise parties, and new kinds of candy in your trick or treat bag. Good weird. Not bad weird. "

Tarika nodded. "Ilya will be glad they found his mom's van." "Wanting to forget about it, Tee." "Did I say he's cute?" "Did I say wanting to forget about it?"

"Sorry, Cat. Really not so good at forgetting cute boys with Hungarian accents."

Cat glanced at her. "Excuse me. What day is it?"

Tarika nodded. "The true. And the very sorry. For the rest of the day, it's totally about you."

Cat grinned. "You are Official Best Friend Ever." And before Tarika could say another word, Cat jerked open the door of their cla.s.sroom.

Trick Zapia looked up as they entered. Cat met his eyes, thinking, Yes, he's definitely the cutest boy in ninth grade, and maybe in school.

She looked away without feeling the slightest bit embarra.s.sed. Why had she thought he was so handsome? Why had she been afraid he would notice her? Even more importantly, why had she been hoping he would? He was just a cute boy in the ninth grade.

He wasn't a young man with eyes like a wolf's. *

At lunchtime, Cat carried her tray through the crowded cafeteria. Her path was blocked by a group of students, laughing together. She said, "'Scuse me." They turned to look at her. The group included Trick Zapia and his twin sister, Terese.

Terese said, "It's the midnight girl! Did you hear your papi's web cast yet? Did you know there might be supernaturales among us?" She hugged herself and shuddered, making her friends laugh as she added, "Very scary, guapos y guapas!"

Cat stared at her. "Not half as scary as you." Terese blinked. "Oh, the fraidy cat isn't running away as usual?" Cat thought, No way, and kept staring. Terese blinked again, then shuddered slightly, but this time no one laughed. Trick said, "More like a wildcat," and smiled. The mood changed instantly, and everyone laughed, but not like before. They weren't laughing at Cat. They were laughing with Trick.

Cat told him, "I always thought you were nicer than your friends."

Trick quirked his lips, a little puzzled, a little amused. "I try to be nice."

"You'll make someone a good boyfriend someday. But not me."

She turned and walked toward her usual table at the end of the room. Behind her, Terese muttered something about "una gata loca."

Cat thought, Why am I so brave today? Maybe after nearly being eaten by a wolf and driven over by someone in a mask, school cliques seem totally unimportant.

A boy in a faded jeans jacket was sitting at their usual table. Tarika was still at the counter, trying to decide which vegetarian option looked least disgusting. Cat scanned the room. There were no unoccupied tables.

She inhaled deeply, then started forward. If she could face down the Zapia twins and their clique, she could face down some boy she'd never seen before. Things should be as they always were on Halloween, which included eating with Tarika at their usual table.

She set her tray kitty-corner from him and said, "This table's reserved for ninth-grade losers."

He shrugged. "I do not mind this." His accent was barely noticeable. His eyes were the color of milk chocolate. His hair was s.h.a.ggy and reddish-brown. He had a wide jaw, a crooked nose, and a small scar by his left eye. Cat thought, He might've tried to kill me.

The boy added, "I've been a ninth-grade loser. Being a tenth-grade loser is not as wonderful as I expected. But I'm sure that when I'm an eleventh-grade loser, that will be wonderful." He smiled, and Cat thought, Paranoid much, Cat Medianoche. The innocent until proven guilty, right?

She said, "You're Ilya Arkan."

He grinned wider than before. "Tenth-grade losers are famous in Tucson? In Budapest, we losers were, ah, anonny-moose?"

"Anonymous," Cat said, deciding it was safe to smile back.

"Anonymous," Ilya repeated. "I like this word. Anonymous. Also, incognito. It is mad cool. That I like, too. Mad cool. Why does English have so many rules when English-speakers love to ignore them?"

"It gives English teachers something to do." "Yes," he agreed, nodding. "You're Cat Medianoche." "I am?" she said, then heard herself. "I mean, yeah. But how--" "Tarika Soto said her best friend was one of the two coolest chicas in Tucson." Tarika, arriving behind Cat, said, "I said Cat's my best friend ever." Ilya shrugged. "Which makes her one of the two coolest chicas in Tucson, yes?" "In Arizona." Tarika gave them both a smile as she sat by Cat. "You introduced yourselves?" Before Ilya could answer, Cat pointed at the soccer ball next to his backpack. "Shouldn't you sit with the jocks?" He squinted at her. "Must I sit with the same people always?" "It's one of the unwritten rules. But if you go back to the jocks and say two geeks sat down with you, you'll be forgiven." "You want me to go?" "For your own good." Cat thought, And so I won't have to wonder if you were driving the van that nearly ruined my birthday forever.

Tarika said, "Your mom must be glad they found her van." Ilya blinked. "Our van was lost?" "Stolen. This morning." When his frown deepened, Tarika added, "Must've been after you left for school. The driver almost hit Cat." Ilya jerked his head to stare at Cat with something like fear or suspicion. "You saw this driver?" She shook her head. "He wore a Donald Duck mask." "Oh." Ilya looked away.

A boy sitting with the soccer jocks saw his glance and called, "Hey, Arkan, what're you doing at the ooky-spooky table?"

Cat said, "See how it works?" Ilya said, "Ooky and spooky?" "The dad has a web site about creepy stuff." "Ah." Ilya stood, grabbed his bag and tray, looked at the soccer jocks, then at Tarika, but not Cat. "Yes. I should go now." As he walked quickly away, Cat said, "Another victim of the unwritten rule. What a jerk." "Thought you wanted him to go." "Wanted to see if he'd crumble under peer pressure." Tarika nodded. "Maximum jerk. I heard some girl thought he was cute. Can you believe that?" "All kinds of crazy rumors go around school." Cat glanced back at Ilya. He pa.s.sed the soccer jocks and went out, putting a phone to his ear. He was not part of a proper Halloween. Why wasn't she glad he was gone?

Chapter Three.

Tricks and Treats.

When Cat got home, Casa Medianoche was quiet. Granny Lupe always napped in the afternoon, but Professor M was gone. So was his black van.

What I should do, she thought, is start on my homework. Everything else can wait.

She went to her computer. Homework can wait a minute.

Googling "Arkan Exterminators Tucson" gave her an address and told her the business had just opened. The home page had a picture of Alexandra Arkan, a pretty, athletic woman in gray coveralls. Her hair was reddish brown, like Ilya's.

Homework can wait half an hour. She bicycled the half-mile to Arkan Exterminators, planning ways to ask Ms. Arkan who might have stolen the van. The police couldn't say anything without proof, but Ms. Arkan might know. Or, at least, have strong suspicions.

But as Cat was about to turn onto 22nd Street, she saw her father's black van parked in front of Arkan Exterminators. She blinked, telling herself there were many black vans in Tucson. But the license plate had the wheelchair symbol, and on the b.u.mper was the sticker she gave him for his birthday: When you're out of coffee, I'm out of here.

The van's side door began to open. Cat stomped on the pedals to shoot past 22nd Street. Had he seen her? She still wore the dark boy's suit, not her usual purple hoodie. The street was busy. He had no reason to notice a bicyclist half a block away when he was busy lowering his chair to the sidewalk.

Why hadn't she ridden up and said, "Fancy meeting you here, stranger"? You're being silly, Cat. Ride back, say, "What a coincidence, Paternal Unit!" and put your suspicions to rest.

The alley was a good place to turn around, so she swung into it. It was also the way to the back of Arkan Exterminators. She was only taking a short cut, she told herself, as she approached the parking area behind the orange cinderblock building.

She could see light through the grill of the rear security door. The inner door was open. As Cat hesitated, straddling her bike and telling herself she shouldn't spy on her father, she heard a woman speak angrily in a language Cat didn't know. When the woman said, "Ilya!" as if she expected obedience, Cat knew who she was.

A chime announced someone opening the front door. Cat heard rubber wheels rolling across linoleum. Ms. Arkan said something that must have meant "bye", then asked in a pleasant, husky voice, "How may I help--"

When she fell silent, Cat rolled up to the door to peer inside. She saw shelves filled with cardboard boxes, but she could not see Ms. Arkan or her father.

Then he spoke, so quietly Cat could barely hear him. "If it weren't you, Xandra--"

"But it is me, Val. Don't speak of 'if.' There is what there is. It must be dealt with."

"It's my concern." "You're still a fool! The danger--" "Is mine." "Is far more than that! Or have you come to think only you matter?" "I know what matters." His voice was so quiet and harsh that Cat was afraid for Ms. Arkan. If Ms. Arkan felt the same fear, she hid it with a laugh. "Ah, Val! Do not threaten me. Not now." "I can still do what I must. My arms might be stronger than before.

On flat surfaces, I move faster. My mind--" "You're obsessed!" When he spoke, he sounded like the man Cat knew. "Not long ago, my daughter would've said, 'Takes one to know one.'" Cat could hear a sad smile in Ms. Arkan's voice. "My son also. We pay a high price for the lives we chose." "Yes."

"I should not let you--" "You don't let, Alexandra. You stay out." "For now." "Until I've failed." "Then you'll let us--" "Then I won't be able to stop you." "Ah." Cat heard his wheels turning, then stop. He said, "Xandra?" "Yes, Val?" "You should've come to me." "Would anything have been different?" After a moment, he said softly, "No." The bell chimed as the door opened again. With the whisper of his wheels, he was gone.

Ms. Arkan said several words Cat didn't know and was glad were not directed at her. She heard the click of a cell phone opening, and another burst of what must be Hungarian. It was quick, efficient, and almost emotionless, except when Ms. Arkan said "Valentin Medianoche."

A raven's call made Cat look away. If she stayed, she would be caught by Ms. Arkan. The idea scared her. She felt as if her father's warning to stay out of this had been aimed as much at her as Ms. Arkan.

But how could she stay out when she didn't know if she was in?

She took the next street south of De Anza and pedaled as hard as she could, barely slowing to glance both ways at stop signs. Her father could do some things faster in a wheelchair than with two good legs, but getting in and out of the van wasn't one. On streets with many stop signs, Cat could ride faster than he could drive.

At least, she hoped so. Her legs and lungs ached. The October afternoon felt too warm. She was afraid for her father, the man who had always made sure she had what she needed. She was afraid of her father, the man who spoke so coldly to Ms. Arkan. She was afraid for herself. Should she be watching for the return of the person in the Donald Duck mask? Or for something worse?

She raced down Luna Street and braked hard beside Casa Medianoche. Her father's black van was rolling into the old carriage house.

She waited until it was inside, then dragged her bike up the front steps, dropped it on the porch, ran through the house to the back stairs, and glanced out. Her father was rolling toward the side door.

She ran down into the bas.e.m.e.nt. Granny Lupe was lying perfectly still on her back on her narrow bed. The light from the TV flickered over her wrinkled face, etching deep shadows even deeper. Her chest barely moved.

Cat touched her shoulder. Granny Lupe sat up, opening her mouth wide. Then she jerked back, saying, "Cat! I told you! Never wake me without warning!"

"I should wake you to warn you I'm about to wake you?"

Granny Lupe laughed. "Ah, my fury! Just don't come so quietly. Give an old woman time to prepare for a welcome visitor."

"Sorry. Do you know anyone named Arkan?"

Granny Lupe snarled in anger, then saw Cat's amazement and smiled. "Does that answer you?"

"Ilya Arkan?" "No." For some reason, Cat was glad. Ilya was a jerk, but she didn't want him to be more than a jerk. "Alexandra Arkan?" "Is she dead?" "No."

"A shame. Is she in Tucson?" Cat nodded. Granny Lupe hissed, then breathed deeply. "If I hadn't told your father I wouldn't swear in front of you, I would swear now." "I'll be fourteen. You can't shock me." "Fierce one, if I told you how I feel about Alexandra Arkan, I would shock you." "Why?"

Granny Lupe looked upward. As Professor M's wheels came through the kitchen, he called, "Cat?"

"Down here!" "Ah," he said and rolled away. Cat repeated, "Why do you hate Ms. Arkan?" "Because--" Granny Lupe waggled a finger at her. "You don't need to know everything. Not yet." "I need to know this." Granny Lupe stroked Cat's hair with cool fingers. "Well. That woman was compet.i.tion for your father's heart." "I thought you didn't like Evil Dad. Wouldn't you have been happier if he had married her?" Granny Lupe put both hands on Cat's cheeks. "Then you wouldn't have been born. And I will grant this. He made your mother happy, for a time. The Arkan woman--" Granny Lupe shrugged. "Well. She tried everything to keep them apart."