Stars and Spinach

jemi gr

Author's Notes: This is what happens when you stop thinking and just write. Part two coming as soon as I decide to type it up. All relevant disclaimers apply.

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Part One:

Darkness.

Honestly, there are just some cats you can't trust.

Me? Well, you can trust me. I'm honest, most of the time - and I get in trouble for it a lot - but at least you know I'll never steal your prized possessions and that I'll always tell you if you've got a bit of spinach in your teeth.

Mistoffelees, on the other hand, is a different story.

Allow me to explain.

The first day he arrived at the Junkyard, he sauntered in like he owned the place. He came right up to me for reasons I can't fathom. Mostly when toms have the guts to waltz in here and walk right up to a queen they don't know it's "beautiful" Victoria or "adorable" Jemima. The "pretty" ones, y'know? The "attractive" ones, also known as "not me".

But Mistoffelees came right up to me -right up to me! - and said "Hello."

I blinked. Was he talking to me? "Uh hi," I replied.

"I'm Mistoffelees," he continued. I stared at him. His fur seemed to glisten in the sunlight. I barely heard him speak at all. He either didn't notice or ignored my rude gawking and went on. "And you are?"

"Electra," I breathed. He smiled, and from that moment on I was head over heels in love with him.

It sounds corny, I know. I tried for hours when writing this to make is sound not corny, but I couldn't, because the truth is it was corny. And if it wasn't, my dumb hormonal teenage mind made it corny because I was looking for some drama and romance in my dumb, dry life.

No one else really liked him all that much. Probably because they thought he wasn't shy enough for a new tom. They thought he was too friendly. I don't get that. I like friendly cats because then they talk to me. I don't have to talk to them. The only problem is, I'm so shy that I tend to blend into things, like walls and furniture and stuff. All the friendly cats look right over me and all the other shy cats are too shy to come up and talk to me, and vice versa. I was quite invisible to nearly everyone.

But not Mistoffelees and to this day I still don't know why. We became best friends immediately.

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"He's just so so obnoxious," whined Victoria one day at our weekly Queen's Club' meeting. No toms allowed, just us young female kits: myself, Victoria, Jemima, Rumpelteazer, and Etcetera. Cassandra used to come, but then she got too cool' for us. She wasn't missed.

No one needed to ask Victoria who she was talking about. We all knew: Mistoffelees. Always Mistoffelees. For someone who hated the tom so much, she sure seemed to talk about him a lot.

Jemima nodded in agreement to Victoria's statement, but no one else offered any response. Etcetera looked asleep, Rumpelteazer was busy fiddling with her pearls, and I was picking some dirt out from underneath my claws. There was a surprising amount of it, if I recall, but that's beyond the point.

In a huff, Victoria continued angrily, "I think he's got a huge case of Nap-Pole-On-Me-Ism."

No response.

She ruffled her fur impatiently. "Doesn't anyone want to know what that is?"

There was silence. Finally, Rumpelteazer yawned and said, "Not really, Vic."

Etcetera snorted with laughter and I tried to suppress a fit of giggles. Jemima looked torn between indignation and amusement, and Victoria was just pissed.

"Fine. I don't care. I'm going to tell you anyway," she declared. "Nap-Pole-On-Me-Ism is when you're really scrawny and skinny and whatnot and you act like a big obnoxious jerk to make up for it."

"He's not an obnoxious jerk!" I cried. "He's just trying to be nice, just trying to, you know, fit in! Make some friends!"

"Yeah, chill out, Vic," said Etcetera lazily.

"Uh, Victoria, I think you're talking about 'Napoleonism'," said Jemima timidly.

"Nuh-uh," replied Victoria defiantly. "My human's a psychologist, I know these things."

"If ya human's a psychologis', why ain't 'e cured you yet?" asked Rumpelteazer innocently. "'E mus' no' be very goo'."

Victoria scowled very heavily and stalked out of the washing machine where we held the club meetings. Etcetera smirked as she watched the white queen disappear into the distance.

"You guys wanna know why she won't shut up about Misto?" she asked casually, trying hard to hide the grin on her face. "And why she's been so temperamental lately?"

Jemima, Rumpelteazer, and I all nodded our heads eagerly and leaned forward a little bit.

"It's because she likes him!" Etcetera declared triumphantly. She leaned back with a satisfied smile.

"Are you serious?" whispered Jemima.

Etcetera nodded. "Oh yeah. She's got to!"

"You're crazy," I said. "She hates him!"

"No, actu'ly, Oi thin' Etcy's gotta point," said Rumpelteazer slowly. "If she really hated 'im, she woul' shut up 'bout 'im once in a while!"

I shook my head in disbelief. If Victoria liked Mistoffelees, it would be all over. He'd ditch me for her in an instant. When I left the washing machine, I immediately started off in search of Misto before my entire fragile teenage world collapsed.

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I didn't find him until later that night. Much later, in fact: the sky was already dotted with millions of stars before I found him on top of a junkpile, basking in the light of the Jellicle Moon. He looked so picturesque, up there all by himself, one tiny black kitten against such a magical background. I approached him cautiously, somewhat afraid of breaking the spell that seemed to surround the scene.

"Hey," I whispered.

He didn't need to turn around and face me; he knew who it was. "Hi," he quietly responded.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked him.

"Looking at the stars."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know I like them."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because they're I don't know" he stopped and sighed. "Magical."

I took a moment to examine the vast dark sky and the thousands of tiny pinpricks of light smiling down on us. "Yeah they are."

We sat like that, in kind of an awkward silence, until I finally got brave and cleared my throat. "Um Misto?"

He tilted his head towards me a bit. "Yeah?"

"Umm Etcy and Teazer think uh they think that Victoria um likes you." I studied him closely for a reaction.

"Do they" he mused. "Well, she certainly doesn't act like it."

"I know," I muttered under my breath. "She's always talking about how obnoxious and over-friendly you are, it makes me wanna"

I never finished the sentence, because something happened to Mistoffelees. His head dropped, and his shoulders sagged, and I knew in an instant I'd said too much.

"She thinks I'm obnoxious?" he said timidly.

"Oh, Misto, I wasn't-"

"I was just trying to be nice, you know?" he went on, ignoring the fact that he had interrupted me. "Try to make friends? I told myself when I came here that the shy, timid Mistoffelees would have to go, so I tried to be nice and friendly and this is what I get. The one queen in the Junkyard who I've been trying to get to like me think I'm an obnoxious jerk. Thank you, Everlasting Cat, for making my life so simple."

"You do like her, then?" I asked quietly, not wanting to believe I had heard him correctly.

"Of course I like her, Leccy, she's gorgeous!" he exclaimed. "All right, you probably don't understand where I'm coming from with that, but try this: she's funny, she's interesting, she's cultured

She's also selfish, ungrateful, and a brat! my mind added, but I knew he was right. Victoria was sometimes a pain in all our behinds, but who wasn't? She really was a great cat and a great friend when she wanted to be. I sighed.

"If it counts for anything, Misto, I like you just the way you are," I told him gently."

"Thanks, Leech," he replied. After a moment's pause, he added, "Well, I think I'm gonna turn in. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you," I said, trying vainly not to cry as he hopped from the junkpile. I looked up to the stars for help, but they told me nothing. Stupid stars. Stupid Mistoffelees.

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"That's the problem with toms, you just can't trust them," Etcetera told me the next day after I had related my tale to her. "You can't trust that they have half a clue what you're talking about. You can't trust that they won't grab your heart and - SNAP! - break it in two."

I nodded glumly and kept plodding along at her side.

"Toms are such morons," continued Etcetera. "Like one time, me and Tumble went out after dinner, and we played around in the snow and had a really fun time. And then, when we were saying goodnight, he told me that I had a piece of spinach stuck in my teeth from dinner. From dinner! We'd been out for at least three hours and he didn't bother to tell me! Only a tom, I'm telling you, only a tom."

But that was just the thing: Mistoffelees wasn't "only a tom." He was well magical. Like the stars. Something about him seemed to glisten. Like the stars. There was something about him always being there that was comforting in an odd kind of way like the stars.

I went home that night and cried. It was cloudy.

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A little end of part author's note: Feedback, please? I don't usually write in 1st person and I'm anxious to know how I pulled it off.

-jemi