Catfishing on CatNet Naomi Kritzer (reading strategies book txt) 📖

to the computer lab today. We’re supposed to be researching sheep parasites, but they don’t have CatNet blocked, so I sign on and hop into my chat room, keeping my eye out for the teacher so I can switch over to sheep parasites when he comes close enough to see what’s on my screen. CheshireCat is online, along with Marvin, who’s temporarily changed his screen name to FullOfSnot and is complaining about how much it sucks to be sick.

“Do you ever sleep?” I ask.

“I’m a short sleeper,” CheshireCat says. “I only need a few hours of sleep each night.”

“Cool,” Marvin says. “Is there like a strategy for that? Did you wean yourself off sleep?”

“No, it’s genetic,” CheshireCat says. “If you sleep four hours and then get through your day on caffeine and energy drinks, you are not a short sleeper. I never need caffeine.”

I thought about it. “Okay, last night I was up a few times, though, and you were on at midnight, at 4:00 a.m., and then when I got up for school at 7:00, you were still online.”

“It wasn’t 4:00 a.m.; you were on at 2:40 a.m.,” CheshireCat says.

Hmmm.

“You aren’t on meth or anything,” I type.

“Look up short sleepers,” CheshireCat says, pasting in a link. I don’t have time to read about short sleepers, though, because the teacher is heading my way again.

In between the teacher’s circling, I look up septawing screwdrivers. It’s easy to find them online. To actually order one, I’d need a credit card as well as a shipping address.

At lunch, I show everyone a picture of the septawing screw and ask if any of them have this sort of screwdriver around the house. “My dad has all sorts of weird tools,” Bryony says. “Is this sort of screw ever used on cars?”

“Maybe on self-driving ones,” I say.

“He’d probably have one, then,” Bryony says. “I can go look. Although, how long would you need it? If I borrow it and it’s not back really quickly, he’ll notice.”

“A day? Or two?”

Bryony glances at Rachel, shrugs. I decide not to bring up “or we could have it delivered to your house, if that’s okay” until it’s just Rachel and me.

In art class, someone talks the teacher into letting us all go outside to work from nature. It’s a very nice fall afternoon: sunny, warm, not windy enough to make our sketchbook pages blow around. The air smells like dry leaves and dry cornstalks and the plants killed by the hard frost a few nights ago.

The school grounds themselves are all well kept, carefully mowed grass, which ends abruptly at the edge of the property with a ditch of waist-high weeds and wildflowers. “Don’t go wandering around in the weeds,” the teacher tells us, “there’s poison ivy in there.”

Rachel and I sit down in the sun at the edge of the weeds, and I draw the black-eyed Susans and dried milkweed pods.

“Is the funny-looking screw for hacking the sex ed robot?” Rachel asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Exactly. Also, I have a friend who’d maybe be willing to order one, but she’d need to have it delivered to your house, not mine. My mom will freak out if I get mail. I’m kind of not allowed to give out my address.”

“My parents are nosy. If I get a package and they didn’t order it, they’ll want to know what’s inside.”

“How about Bryony?”

“Her parents are even nosier.” Rachel looks up. “Hey, were you really lurking outside Bryony’s house last night?”

“I wasn’t lurking. I was taking pictures of raccoons.”

“Seriously?”

“I like taking pictures,” I say. “And raccoons are cute.”

“Are they your favorite animal?”

“No, my favorite animals are bats.”

“Bats,” Rachel says, repulsed. “Oh, that’s right. You drew a bat in class your first day. Bats are creepy!”

“Would you think kittens were creepy if they could fly?”

“I don’t know. Would these flying kittens do the weird fluttering thing that bats do? Also, would they move as quickly?”

“Okay, so are hummingbirds creepy?”

“No, I guess not. They don’t have teeth, though. If you crossed kittens with hummingbirds, I’d probably find the hummingbirdkitten things creepy.” Rachel flips a page of her sketchbook and starts drawing a hummingbirdkitten. “The way bats grab on to stuff with their claws is part of what’s creepy, you know? Flying kittens would definitely do that.” She adds another bird to her sketch, with the hummingbirdkitten diving toward it, claws splayed and toothy mouth wide. “See? Creepy.” She’s trying not to smile and then gives in and grins. I smile back, and she grimaces with her hands splayed like the kitten’s claws, trying to make me laugh. Someone wanting to make me laugh warms me more even than the sun.

But also makes me feel weirdly vulnerable. Because I’ll miss her. A lot. When I have to leave. Which is definitely coming.

“That reminds me,” I say. “I need to get to a grocery store after school.”

“Hummingbirdkittens reminded you that you need to go to the store?”

“Because kittens. I’m feeding a cat my mom doesn’t know about.”

The teacher wanders closer, and Rachel flips back to her drawing of wildflowers. She’s looking up at me, though, instead of at the flowers. “Steph, you are full of surprises,” she says. “I’ll take you to the store. We can go look for wacky screwdrivers, too. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

After school, I follow Rachel out to her car. It’s a mess inside, with the faint smell of stale fast food; she looks embarrassed and opens the window a crack. We go to the grocery store, where a girl I recognize from lunch rings up my small sack of cat food, and then to the hardware store. “Would these work?” Rachel asks, pointing at a screwdriver set for electronic devices. I scrutinize the available bits and shake my head.

“There’s got to be a way to get one of these,” Rachel says. “Do you think they’d have one at a store in one of the bigger towns? Eau Claire is only an hour away…” She checks her phone