The King of the Cats

Movement Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Though we spent plenty of time together, I can't really say we ever grew close. My friend group consisted mainly of geeks, nerds, and kids who were too moral to be stoners, but too edgy to be classified as strictly straightedge. There were more than a dozen or so people who I still liked to hang out with, but my core group at the time was Deirdre, our resident SuperWhoLock, Kit the Nightcore expert, and Ryder, who'd had a 4.0 since kindergarten (and acted just like you'd expect someone like that to act). And me, the one who knew too much about 19th century literature and either dressed like life was an anime, or alternately, like this was America mid-WWII. If the world was a toybox, we'd be the staring porcelain dolls with too much painted-on blush that were kept in the closet because they were too intense for anywhere else.

Kendrick, who definitely didn't fit into any sort of high school stereotype, was very welcome in the metaphorical dollhouse. Part of that was because he didn't belong anywhere else. Part of that was because we were all very much boy crazy.

He didn't exactly turn out to be the suave, classy gentleman he originally appeared to be. Kendrick was the type of guy that would text you at midnight asking if he could borrow your bleach and hydrogen peroxide, beg until you promised to bring it to school for him the following day, and then thank you profusely and make you swear not to tell anyone. He was the type of guy that would come over to your place on the weekends, but spend the majority of the time playing with your cat. I know both of these things from experience. The latter was especially strange.

Since I lived the closest to school of my previous friend group, it was common for Kit, Ryder, and Deirdre to come over afterwards and join me to prattle of the by-and-by. Naturally, after a while Kendrick began to join us.

My room was painted lime green, with an accent of turquoise on one wall. The walls were littered with band posters (such as Coheed & Cambria, Green Day, and My Chemical Romance) and drawings by my friends and I. We were all aspiring artists--Kit being very good and the rest if us rather hopeless--and the drawings were mostly pencil-and-notebook-paper sketches of things ranging from puppies to unicorns to Batman. My accordion stood in its case right under the window. Yes, I play the accordion. Saying so has almost gotten me beat up in the past, but I'm still not afraid to admit it.

But, why would you want to hear about me? As I was  saying, the first time he tagged  along was the first time I realized something was amiss. We were all sprawled across various pieces of furniture, per usual, and my pudgy calico, Katrinka, sauntered in and sat right next  to him. That doesn't seem too strange in and of itself, but you don't know Katrinka.

I've raised her from kittenhood, and never in her life has she been comfortable with strangers. My girlfriends  had been coming over nearly every day for years, and she still would hide under the couch until they were finally gone. And now, there she was, just walking into a room of people she pretty much hates and making friends with one of them. I know I sound really stupid right now, but if you were there (and you were me) you would have understood the oddity that was this situation.

She just sat there, legs curled under her belly, as his long, tapered fingers ran through her puffy coat.

It went on like that for about an hour, until people began to leave, making vague excuses about band practice, or having to Skype that taxidermist from Brussels, or something to that effect. It's funny; everyone has that place that they frequent enough to consider a second home, but they still feel as if they can't come and go as they please. Have you ever noticed that? Well, it's not like it matters.

Kendrick and I languished in a comfortable sort of silence for about five minutes before he finally broke it.

"I really should be off, then."

A slight pause.

"I'll walk you out."

So I (and Katrinka, of course) accompanied him to the door, where we said our farewells.

"See you tomorrow then, hon!"

"Yes, until tomorrow..."

He kept his eyes on the cat the entire time.

After Kendrick was out of earshot, I picked up my calico and firmly said "Don't go making another best friend, okay?"

She just stared back, impatient to be let down, with those gigantic olive green eyes.

Of course, it wasn't as if I really gave a hoot about it all. It was just unusual, is all. A strange young man comes into my life and causes strange things to happen.

To be honest, I wished that I was that special brand of odd.