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“Bright and early tomorrow morning. I’ll be ready.” I really should have lectured him on his poor manners or hurtful lack of gratitude, but I was just too tired to deal with him anymore that night.

“Good,” he said, sashaying down the hallway to his bedroom and slipping through the slightly open door.

I shook my head and continued up another flight of stairs to my tower bedroom.

I was in for a very long week. Our road trip would take us thirty hours of driving each way—and that was without any breaks to eat, sleep, or stretch our legs. Thankfully I’d have Nan to split driving shifts with me, though I didn’t love that she had wanted to take her tiny Audi coupe cross-country rather than my roomier old sedan.

Besides the drive itself, I knew I was in for an awkward time visiting with Grizabella’s owner, Christine. She didn’t know I could talk to animals and I preferred to keep it that way. This meant I’d needed to come up with a farfetched excuse that I’d already planned to be in town and would love it if she could watch Octo-Cat for me while I was off at my fake conference.

She’d bought it hook, line, and sinker. Really, she had no reason to suspect my cover story was a lie. Even though it was a harmless one, I still felt bad. Not bad enough to risk exposure of my freakish—and often troubling—ability, but still.

Despite today’s hiccough with the seagulls, everything would still happen to plan with this trip, whether I spent time agonizing over the details or not. And I definitely preferred not.

I quieted my thoughts, promising myself I’d deal with each new thing as it came. The last thing on my mind before I drifted off to sleep was that I really hoped my cat knew how much I loved him, and that he would at least try to be nice to me for the duration of the trip.

Yes, I still believed in miracles, it seemed.

Chapter Seven

I awoke to the sound of four little feet charging rapidly up and down my private staircase. The stomping rose to the top of the stairs then paused.

“Reo-reow!” Octo-Cat cried from the other side of my door, a cat possessed. His point apparently now made, he raced back down the stairs and up again and down before letting out another echoing cry. “Reowowoweoeoweoew!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. He so rarely got the zoomies, but when he did, my sides usually ended up aching from all the unexpected laughing at his antics.

“Seems like someone’s more than a little bit excited about our big trip,” I called after flinging the door open.

My cat rushed into the room so fast, he appeared as little more than a brown blur. Slowing himself only slightly, he hopped onto my unmade bed and pounced on my pillow, hopping up and down on his front paws.“It’s morning. Can we go now? Reo-reow!”

And he was off like a shot once again.

I glanced toward the window, which hung dark without even the slightest hint of sunlight yet peeking through. We had planned on being up early, but…

A quick check of my phone confirmed that it was hardly past four AM. The plan had been to set out at six…

Oh, well.

There really was no point bemoaning my lost sleep, nor was there any sense in trying to nab any additional shuteye before we headed out. Octo-Cat was simply too excited to accept any kind of delay.

I got dressed quickly, choosing a pair of blue polkadot sweatpants and a T-shirt featuring a cartoon cat with his face pressed through a slice of white bread. The first time I’d worn it, Octo-Cat had insisted that the pun on “purebred” not only didn’t make sense but was also offensive. Considering his past reaction to the harmless T, today seemed the perfect day to wear it. Not only would it help me stay comfortable during the long drive, but it would also enable me to exact a modicum of revenge for the early wake-up call. I smiled to myself as I swept my hair back into a messy bun and smeared Chapstick over said smile.

When I padded downstairs lugging my haphazardly packed suitcase behind me, I found Nan up and full of pep. She held out a shiny metallic travel mug, which I graciously accepted.

As I took my first glorious sip, Paisley ran into the room, singing,“Oh, what a beautiful day for an adventure!”

She yipped when she saw me, stood on her hind legs, and placed her front paws just below my knee—her signal that she wanted to be picked up.

I lowered my mug and took in the sight of her for the first time that morning.“Nan,” I cried in shock. “What have you done to her?”

“That’s her travel look. Don’t you like it?” My grandmother patted the swirly pink scarf on her own head. It matched the one wrapped around the Chihuahua’s neck perfectly. A paisley print, I realized.

On top of that, Paisley the dog also wore a pair of hot pink goggles—to help with wind-burn Nan later explained, which I guessed meant we’d be driving with the windows down for at least part of the trip. Octo-Cat would love that.