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scary.”
    “You won’t believe what happened to me last night,” Amanda said. “My cousin Reeny came over. You met Reeny, right? Well, she brought this new Wii game. It’s a horseback-riding game. It’s totally awesome. And the two of us …”
    I couldn’t get Amanda to stop telling me about the game. I kept opening my mouth. But she didn’t take a breath. I couldn’t get a word in. And I was too tired to shout or clap my hand over her mouth.
    “I have something to tell you later,” I said, my voice hoarse and weak.
    I don’t know if she heard me or not. She was still telling me how totally awesome the horseback-riding game was.
    We stepped into the Caplans’ house—and we had a problem.
    We couldn’t find Bella.
    She wasn’t in the living room, waiting to greet us. She wasn’t in the kitchen. Amanda and I scrambled around the house, calling her name.
    Of course, that was dumb. Her name wasn’t really Bella. She didn’t
know
her name yet. But we shouted it anyway. And I kept asking if shewas hungry. But maybe she didn’t know that word, either.
    We found her right where we started. She had squeezed under the living room couch. Curled up under there, acting innocent, as if she didn’t know two people were frantically running everywhere trying to find her.
    Amanda reached down and gently pulled the cat out. She didn’t try to resist. Amanda held her in her arms for a few moments. The cat seemed to like it.
    “She’s getting calmer,” Amanda said. “I can tell she’s getting used to this house.”
    “I hope so,” I said.
    Amanda petted her. “You look so much like Bella,” she told the cat. “I’m just going to forget the old Bella ever existed.”
    I sighed. “We’re going to be late for school. I’ll give her breakfast.”
    I walked to the kitchen, pulled the bag of cat food from under the sink, and filled Bella’s bowl. “Breakfast!” I shouted. “Are you hungry?”
    No cat.
    I hurried back to the living room. Bella was still in Amanda’s arms. “Let her down so she can eat her breakfast,” I said. “We have to get out of here.”
    “She’s in a cuddly mood,” Amanda said. But she set the cat down on the floor.
    Bella stretched, bending from her middle, poking her tail straight up in the air. She made a soft sound like a yawn.
    “Hungry?” I asked her. I motioned to the kitchen. “Hungry? Breakfast? Chow time?”
    To my surprise, the cat turned and darted back under the couch.
    “She doesn’t understand,” Amanda said. “Go back in the kitchen and rattle her food dish so she hears it.”
    I started back for the kitchen—but stopped when I heard a loud noise behind me. “What’s that?” I asked Amanda.
    Amanda was staring under the couch.
    Bella let out an ugly screech. She was on her back. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was doing.
    “Oh, no!” I cried. “No! Stop her!”
    The cat was scratching frantically on the couch bottom. Screeching like a trapped animal and ripping the bottom of the couch with her claws.
    Ripping and clawing faster … harder.
    “Do
something!” I shouted to Amanda.
    She turned to me, pale, her eyes wide. “Do
what?
I’m not going to try to pull her out.”
    Riiiip rippp ripppp.
    “She’s pulling all the stuffing out!” I screamed.
    Pieces of white foam rubber came flying out from under the couch. And the cat kept scraping out more.
    “She’s crazy!” I cried. “What’s
wrong
with her?”
    Riiiip rippp ripppp.
    Clawing frantically, the cat kept screaming like a maniac.
    I dove for the couch and dropped to my knees. I started to reach under the couch with both hands.
    What was I thinking?
    The cat clawed at my hands. She turned her head toward me and, eyes glowing bright yellow, she snapped her teeth.
    “Owwwwww!”
    I jerked my hands away.
    Pain shot up my hand and arm. My palm had dark red claw marks down the middle.
    I jumped to my feet and backed away. “I—I can’t do it. I can’t get her out.”
    Clawing