The Smallest Kitten

“I expect she hasn’t even woken up from her after-breakfast sleep,” Dad said. “Cats sleep for about sixteen hours a day, did you know that? Pixie’s going for the record, I think.”

“She’s not lazy, Dad,” Zara protested. “Haven’t you seen her jumping after her feather toy?”

“And she’s growing,” Amina put in. “She’s much bigger than she was a week ago. Her coat’s different too, she’s not as fluffy. She’s turning silky instead.”

Zara nodded, realizing that Amina was right. “You’d sleep all the time if you had to do all that growing, Dad.”

“I know, I’m only teasing. Anyway, I think you two are going to be the experts on kittens, with all the cat books you’ve borrowed.” He looked thoughtfully at the shops they were passing. “Is there anything we need to get for school?”

“New lunchboxes?” Amina asked hopefully, looking at the Back to School display in the window.

“What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?” Dad asked and Amina shrugged.

“Nothing, I’d just like a new one!”

Zara looked at the school supplies too, suddenly feeling the weight of all the library books in the bag she was carrying. It was only a week now until they started their new school. They’d be going into Year Five, which meant that everyone else would have known each other for years and years. She really wasn’t very good at getting to know new people.

Dad nudged her gently. “What about you, Zara? Need anything? Do you want to get a new lunchbox?”

Zara shook her head. “No…” she whispered. “I’d just like everything to stay the same.”

Back at the house, Zara found Pixie still sleeping in her igloo bed in the kitchen and she lay down on the floor next to her, peering in. Pixie was asleep on her back, showing off her tummy. Zara stroked the soft white fur with one finger, and Pixie stretched a little and let out a breathy purr.

“I’d forgotten how close it was to school starting,” Zara murmured. “I’ve been too busy looking after you to think about it.” She stroked one of Pixie’s tiny paws and sighed. “I wish I could just curl up in a furry nest all day. Or hide under all the toys at the end of my bed, like you do when Dad shouts up the stairs.” Zara smiled, remembering Pixie’s tail poking out from underneath her toy octopus like an extra tentacle. Amina had been right about Pixie and Zara both liking small, dark spaces. Pixie definitely felt safe when she was somewhere dark and quiet and so did Zara. “Amina’s totally different,” Zara pointed out to the sleeping kitten. “I think maybe she just gets louder when she’s feeling worried…” She sighed. “I’m going to miss you so much…”

“Be good, Pixie,” Zara whispered, cuddling the little kitten against her stiff new uniform cardigan as Amina raced around trying to work out where she’d left her pencil case. “At least we’ve only got to do three days this first week, and then it’ll be the weekend. I’ll see you this afternoon when I get back. Wish me luck.” She smiled faintly as Pixie nudged her cheek and purred – her purr was so huge for such a little cat.

“Time to go, girls.” Dad smiled at them encouragingly. “We want to be nice and early on your first day.”

One of the good things about moving was that their house was really close to their new school, only about a ten-minute walk. Once they were settled in, Amina and Zara might even be able to walk by themselves. Zara supposed it was good to be a bit closer – but right now she didn’t want to be at school at all. It didn’t help that they soon started to spot other children in the dark green uniform. There were some girls who looked like they might be in Year Five too, all walking together and chatting and giggling. Zara was sure they were pointing her and Amina out and talking about them. She hated people noticing her. Now it was going to be happening all day.

Once they arrived at the school, they seemed to be swept up and away into a tide of niceness – the school secretary, and then the head teacher, and then their class teacher, all smiling and saying how good it was to have them there. Amina beamed and chattered about their old school and their move, and Zara managed a small, tight smile.

The two girls were sitting next to each other close to the front of the room when the rest of the class came in.

“Shh, sit down, everyone, please.” Miss Modha smiled around at them. “I hope everyone had a great summer.” She nodded to the twins. “We’re lucky to have Zara and Amina joining our class this year.”

Zara stared at the table, feeling her cheeks redden. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Amina waving and smiling around the class.

“Which is which?” someone whispered.

“I’m Amina. And we’re not identical, but if you can’t tell, I’ve got a ponytail and Zara has a plait. We always do our hair that way.”

Zara drew her plait over her shoulder, fiddling with the end. It gave her fingers something to do.

“That’s very helpful, Amina. Would you two like to tell us something about yourselves? Only if you want to, of course!”

“We’ve just moved to Stallbridge and our mum’s a doctor at the hospital,” Amina went on. “Oh, and two weeks ago we got a kitten! She’s black and white and her name’s Pixie. Have you still got her photo?” she added to Zara, and Zara pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over. She’d stopped carrying it around once they’d brought Pixie home, but today she’d put it in the pocket of her school skirt, for comfort. Amina held the photo up and Miss Modha leaned over to look.

“So cute! She looks tiny. Lucky you, having a kitten.”

“Does your sister talk?” One of the girls on the other side of their table asked, nodding to Zara. Zara looked down again swiftly, biting her lip.

“Thank you, Amina,” Miss Modha put in quickly. “You’ll all have lots of time to chat to Zara and Amina at break time. For now we need to get on with giving out books. Find a pen, all of you, and I’ve put how I want you to name your books up on the whiteboard.”

Half the morning disappeared in fiddly first-day tasks and the bell for break rang far too soon for Zara.

Several girls gathered around them as Miss Modha shooed them out into the playground, asking questions about their old school and generally being curious.

“I really like your hairband,” one of the girls said to Zara.

“Oh, thanks.” She tried desperately to think of something nice to say back. Mum had said it would be easy – she just had to say the same sort of thing the person talking had said. Mum called it echoing. But the girl smiling at her had short hair, with no clips or bands in it at all. Zara stared at her helplessly and the girl turned to listen to Amina telling a funny story about their old teacher at Springfield Primary who could never remember which of them was which.

“And it’s not like it’s difficult!” she finished off, nodding over at Zara as if to say how different they were. Everyone laughed – because already, after only half a morning, they could see that the twins were nothing like each other at all.

Zara tried to laugh and join in the joke, but it just hurt too much.

“Hey… I loved your kitten.”

Zara jumped and looked round. She’d been trying so hard to be part of the laughing group she hadn’t noticed the girl standing beside her.

“And Pixie’s such a sweet name. Here, do you want to see my cat?” She held up a keyring, the kind you could put a photo inside. It had a very large, very fluffy, very orange cat on it. The cat was lying on its back, showing off a cream and orange stripey tummy. It looked a bit like a rug.

“He’s gorgeous!” Zara said, before she’d even had time to think. “Um, is he a he? The cat book I got from the library said most ginger cats were.”

“Yup. He’s called Biscuit – like ginger biscuit?”

“That’s clever!” Zara beamed at the other girl and then realized she was actually talking to someone without Amina helping her. She had a split second of panic and then thought that it didn’t matter, because there was something she actually did want to know.

“What’s your name?”

Pixie wandered from the living room along the hall and into the kitchen – again. She’d been back and forth all morning, trying to work out where Zara and Amina had gone. They’d disappeared before, but never for this long.

“Hey, little one.” Dad came out of the office next to the kitchen and crouched down to tickle her behind the ears. Pixie rubbed herself around his ankles but he wasn’t the one she was looking for. It was the girls she was missing.

“They’ll be back later,” Dad murmured, smiling as Pixie plodded determinedly down the hallway again. This time she stopped and looked up at the stairs. Amina and Zara were up there sometimes and they’d pick her up and take her with them too. Maybe that’s where they were? She put her front paws on the bottom step, stretching and trying to peer up at the top of the stairs. She couldn’t hear them…

Her sharp ears caught a faint crunching on the gravel outside the front door and she turned to look – and then jumped wildly as the doorbell rang.

“It’s OK, don’t panic. I know, it’s so loud, isn’t it?” Dad said as he hurried to answer the door to the friendly woman who delivered the post. He looked round carefully to make sure he wasn’t accidentally going to let Pixie out, but he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Pixie was crouched, trembling, under the potted palm tree at the bottom of the stairs – the pot stood on three little legs and if she squeezed tight enough, she could just about get underneath. Down there it was dark and shadowy and safe…

Biscuit’s owner was called Billie and amazingly (or so Zara thought) she seemed to like Zara. At first they’d mostly talked about their cats – Biscuit was only a couple of years old so Billie remembered him being a funny, fluffy kitten. She thought he might actually still be growing, even though if she stood up and held him under his front paws, the tip of his tail trailed on the floor.

“I think he must be about six times the size of Pixie,” Zara told her seriously that first break time. “Amina says Pixie’s going to get a lot bigger but I’m not sure. She just feels like she’s going to stay small forever.”

Billie looked thoughtfully over at Amina, perched on one of the picnic tables in the playground, surrounded by a giggling crowd of girls. “Your sister talks a lot, doesn’t she?”

Zara felt her face grow hot and she stared down at the photo of Pixie.

Billie leaned over to look at her better. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! It’s just – she’s right, isn’t she? You’re really not that similar.” She sighed.

“Sorry. I get into trouble for saying stuff because people think I’m being mean. I’m not. Mum says I should count to five and think before I say anything, but who’s got time for that?”

Zara snorted with surprised laughter and Billie grinned at her. “See? You know I’m right.”

“Amina never stops talking…” Zara admitted. “Usually I don’t mind. But…” Billie looked at her curiously. Zara swallowed and went on, “But it’s nice to talk for myself sometimes.” She smiled shyly at Billie and remembered something her mum had mentioned the day before. “Um… It’s our birthday in a couple of weeks.” She took a deep breath. “Do you want to come to our party?”

Zara hadn’t been very excited about having a birthday party when Mum had first mentioned it, but it turned out Amina had been making plans. On Friday evening after school, she hurried Zara upstairs to change out of their uniform and then back down to talk to their parents. Mum had just finished her shift at the hospital and Dad was making dinner.

Zara felt more like lying on the sofa with Pixie than discussing birthday plans – even just three days at their new school had worn her out. Still, looking back on it, the first week had gone a lot better than she’d thought it would – and a big part of that had been finding her own friend. Miss Modha had even asked her if she’d like to move tables and sit with Billie. Zara had said yes before she thought about what it would mean – that she wouldn’t be sitting with Amina. She thought Amina had looked a bit shocked when she told her.

Now she sat down at the table, yawning, and twitched the tail on her leopard onesie for Pixie to chase.

“We’ve been thinking about our party,” Amina announced. Zara looked up, feeling a bit irritated. They hadn’t! Amina hadn’t talked to her about it at all.

“We could go ice skating!” Amina went on, beaming at their parents. “Or maybe just to the cinema and then go for pizza? And can we have a sleepover? With someone to come and do our nails and things? I’ve made a list of who we want to invite.”

“Er…” Dad turned round from the hob looking worried.

“That’s a bit more of a grand plan than we were expecting,” Mum said gently. She looked down at the list that Amina had pushed in front of her and frowned slightly. “You’ve only been at school three days, how can you know so many girls?”

“I know everybody,” Amina said, waving this away. “Mum, we have to have a really good party because we’ve only just got there. It needs to be perfect!”

“Zara hasn’t said anything,” Dad pointed out.

“She wants the same as me,” Amina said swiftly.

Zara reached down and scooped Pixie into her lap. Stroking the kitten’s smooth fur made her feel a bit less panicky inside. She leaned over a little so she could see the list that Mum was looking at. Lucy, Harini, Elysha, Iris, Mia… Lots and lots of names – but Billie wasn’t on there.

Amina hadn’t even asked her who she wanted to invite – to a party that was meant to be half hers.

“No, I don’t,” she said softly.

Amina whirled round to stare at her. “Of course you do!” She looked utterly shocked – as if she couldn’t understand what was happening.

“You never said anything to me,” Zara told her. “And my friend isn’t on that list.”

“What friend?”

“Billie.”

“Oh.” Amina wrinkled her nose. “Her. I don’t want to invite Billie.”

“That’s not very nice!” Mum looked at Amina in surprise and she shrugged.

“You just don’t like her because she doesn’t make a big fuss about you like the others,” Zara said.

Amina looked stunned, and Mum and Dad were both staring at Zara now as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Zara kept on running her hand down Pixie’s soft back. She wasn’t sure she could believe it either. Pixie purred and flexed her claws on the furry onesie.

Mum smiled. “So we’ll definitely ask Billie to the party. Any more ideas? Not quite so grand and expensive?”

Pixie was scrambling up the front of Zara’s onesie now. Luckily the onesie was nice and thick, and Pixie ended up perched on Zara’s shoulder looking pleased with herself. Zara was mostly thinking about how funny and sweet she was, so she said what she actually felt, instead of just agreeing to go with what Amina wanted.

“Um… Can we just have a couple of friends round here and have a really nice cake? Maybe a cat-shaped one?”

Amina sighed loudly. “A cat cake would be cute but we want a party everyone’s going to remember!”

“I don’t.” Zara suddenly realized Pixie had stopped purring.

“You don’t understand!” Amina said, her voice starting to rise. “It’s got to be special! It has to be!” She smacked her hand down on the table with a bang.

Zara flinched and Pixie panicked and dug her claws in, hard enough that it hurt.

“Ow, Pixie, gently… I still don’t see why we’ve got to have such a special party!”

“Oh! You don’t understand anything!” Amina hissed and she jumped up and dashed out of the room, leaving Zara staring after her.

Pixie snuggled close up against Zara’s onesie as Zara climbed the stairs. She didn’t really understand what had happened earlier on, but she’d known that something was wrong when Zara twitched so suddenly. She’d clung on as hard as she could, worried that she was going to slide off – and then she’d heard Zara gasp and Amina go running off upstairs.

For a moment, Pixie had thought Zara was angry but then she’d reached up and unhooked Pixie from her onesie very gently. She’d smoothed down the kitten’s ruffled fur and whispered to her. She’d spent ages scratching the exact itchy spot under Pixie’s chin while Pixie closed her eyes and almost purred.

But only almost, because she could tell that something was still not right. There was a strange, uncomfortable silence in the kitchen. Even when the family were eating dinner – with Pixie still on Zara’s lap, sniffing hopefully at the food and maybe getting a little piece of fish every so often – no one was chatting the way they usually did.

After the meal, Zara carried her upstairs and rolled a jingly bell across the bedroom floor for Pixie to chase. But she didn’t seem to be trying very hard, and all the time Amina was there, curled up on the other bed instead of joining in. Pixie kept stopping to look over at her, knowing she wasn’t happy – and Zara wasn’t either. When the ball rolled right under Zara’s bed, Pixie and Zara both went under there to get it – and somehow they didn’t come out again. Zara stayed curled up against the wall and Pixie snuggled up next to her. It was quiet and dark under there, with Zara’s duvet half hanging down.

Zara only wriggled out from under the bed when Mum came up to turn the girls’ light off. Pixie had expected Mum to carry her downstairs to her basket in the kitchen – that was what had always happened before, but this time she just stroked Pixie’s ears, and hugged Zara and Amina, and left, leaving Pixie sitting on the end of Zara’s bed.

“Mum says you can sleep up here tonight,” Zara whispered, and there was a grumpy sniff from the other bed. “But I’ve got to take you downstairs if you don’t settle.”

Zara was lying down now but the kitten could feel she wasn’t asleep – she was watching. Pixie wobbled her way up next to Zara’s shoulder.

“I promise I won’t roll on you,” Zara whispered, and she sounded pleased. “Goodnight, Pixie.” And she added, a little sadly, “Night, Amina.”

Pixie could just hear Amina muttering, “Night,” from the other side of the room.

Even though Amina had calmed down, and they were talking again by the next day, Zara knew that things weren’t back to normal. She wasn’t used to being at odds with Amina – it made her feel weird and twitchy.