The sense of foreboding grew during my ENG 112H class. I sat at my desk, listening to the teacher lead a discussion over our latest reading. Normally I would be in the thick of it, throwing out questions, disagreeing, arguing my own opinions with utmost stubbornness. Today, however, I sat at my desk, staring at the blue pen resting on it, and felt my stomach twist into knots. My teacher kept glancing my direction, even asking if I'd raised my hand when I went to shove my brown hair out of my eyes. I wasn't in the mood for debating today. No, something was wrong. Drastically wrong, and I could not fathom what it was. It was definitely something I had done, or perhaps, had not done. My memory is unreliable at best and it was defiantly nagging me about something this time.
When class ended I walked slowly outside, Cayla walking besides me. She chattered away about what we had just finished discussing and all while I absorbed it silently. Finally she asked me why I was so quiet.
"I forgot to do something, I think," I replied.
"Ummm, did you lock your door?"
"Yes."
"Grab your keys?"
"Yes."
"Essay?"
"Not that I know of."
"Test?"
"Not until Friday."
"Well, I'm sure you'll remember eventually."
"I certainly hope so," I replied as we unchained our bikes.
I nearly ran over several people on the way back in my distracted state. I barely heard the abuse the unfortunate individuals showered down on me, concentrating on the four-story building in the distance. We glided down next to the bike rack of Darrow and found a spot for our bikes in the already crowded area. That done, we headed into the lobby, making the mandatory check for new mail. Like usual, I didn't have any, and was much disappointed. I keyed us into the stairwell and we headed up the single flight to the second floor and onto our hall. The cream brick walls and reddish-brown industrial carpeting greeted us. A girl from a couple rooms down squeezed past us into the hallway and towards the food court. Cayla and I walked side by side down the hallway, door after door, some open, some not, all decorated. She stopped at room 221 and I kept going to 218 where I tried the door and found it locked. I fumbled for my keys, only to have the door click open, be shoved forwards a tiny bit, and a hand snap out and grab my wrist. I nearly dropped my keys as the person inside pulled me in, then slammed and locked the door behind me.
I rubbed my wrist and turned to face a furious Rachel. She glared at me, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, eyes blazing.
"What?," she snarled, "Is THAT?"
I gazed at her dully, then followed her pointing to the windowsill. It was then I remembered what I had forgotten to do.
The white Weewoo sat staring at its reflection in our window, its snowy tail feathers twitching, eyes bright.
"Oh," I said, "Yeah. I meant to leave you a note about Gootchi…"
"Gootchi?"
"My pet's petpet. Terraile's, to be exact. She's at an archery competition in Meridell and asked me to watch him for her."
She sighed and slumped into her chair. I dropped my backpack at one of the few remaining clear areas on my side of the room. The dirty dishes were starting to overflow off the desk again. I'd have to wash them sometime this week.
"So we have a… Gootchi… thing staying with us."
"No, it's called a Weewoo. It's name is Gootchi."
"Oh. What the heck is a Weewoo anything? Is it carnivorous?"
"It eats just about anything, I think. It should survive off our peanut butter cereal just fine."
"Hey now," she said, "We're not feeding that thing peanut butter cereal."
"Why not?" I replied.
"Cause I'm not wasting good peanut butter flavor on a bird-thing!"
"Weewoo," I corrected, "White Weewoo."
"Whatever. Feed it those crackers your mom sent with you last time we were home."
"Fine."
I whistled and Gootchi came flying over to my arm. I stroked his soft feathers and he gave a soft cry of 'weewoooo' in response.
"So that's why it's called a weewoo," Rachel muttered, "You're going to get us in trouble."
"No I'm not. It doesn't make that much noise really. No one will know its here for a day or so."
Oh, I was so wrong. That night we fed it some of my crackers and it seemed pretty happy. It tried to drink from the fish tank so I filled up my bowl with water for it. It seemed pretty content then and I let it alone for the evening. We were up until about one am, like usual. When I went down the hall to the bathroom I had to squeeze past a couple girls and the resident assistant. They were talking, not unusual for people to be up at all hours of the night. I brushed my teeth and returned to the dorm room where Rachel was already curled up in the bottom bunk. Gootchi was perched on the frame and I had to move him onto Rachel's desk to climb up to my top bunk. I leaned over and grabbed my clock from the windowsill and set it to ring at 9 am. Then I covered myself with the blankest and closed my eyes to go to sleep.
I had scarcely fallen asleep when I was waken by a strange cry.
"Weeeewoooooo…."
"Gootchi, shuddup," I muttered sleepily, rolling over.
"Weeeeewwwoooooooooo…."
"Gootchi!"
"WEEEEEEWOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
That woke me up. I sat bolt upright, staring over at the ghostly form at the window. Gootchi's feathers glowed in the moonlight. It looked at me, blinked, then uttered another haunting cry, loud enough to wake the dead. As it was, it only woke Rachel.
"What the heck?" she exclaimed, sitting up in bed.
"It's Gootchi."
"He's being awfully loud."
"I know… Gootchi… be quiet please…" I implored the petpet.
"WEEEEEWOOOOOO!!!!"
I moaned and slid out of the bunk bed, landing in a crouch on the floor. I misdirected my fall and landed on my stuffed white kougra, lost my balance, and fell over. Rachel snickered and Gootchi let out another plaintive cry.
"For crying out loud!" I snapped, "Gootchi! Hush! I've got classes tommorow morning."
There was a knock at the door. Muttering under my breath I staggered over and peered through the peephole.
"It's the RA," I gasped.
"Great!" Rachel snapped, "We're not supposed to have non-fish pets in the dorm! Now what?"
"Hide it!" I hissed back.
"Where?"
"I don't know!"
She muttered something, grabbed the bird which let out another sharp 'weewoo' and shoved it into the mini-fridge, slamming the door. I groaned and opened the door.
"Hi Leslie," I said, blinking at the light in the hallway.
"Hi Kelsey," she replied, "I heard some noise, everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," I replied, "I think it was just something outside. Maybe some people being stupid."
"Alright. Well, remember that it is quiet hours now."
"I know."
She nodded and left. I quickly shut the door behind her and locked it. I then turned to Rachel who was standing innocently before the fridge.
"What?" she protested.
"Take it out," I ordered.
She sighed in mock-disappointment and released the shivering bird. It flapped its wings plaintively and tried to cry 'weewoo'. Rachel stopped it by holding its beak shut with one hand.
"We can't stay like this all night," Rachel said, "Find something to make it be quiet."
I looked around the room, thinking. The box of peanut butter cereal caught my eye. I walked over and opened it, spilling out an amount onto the floor. Gootchi dove for it and gobbled it up, then stuck his head into the box, searching for more.
"Not the peanut butter!" Rachel cried.
"Would you rather be up all night?" I asked in response.
She shook her head and reluctantly returned to her bed. I climbed back up into my own and fell asleep to the relentless noise of crunching.
Rachel woke me the next morning by kicking the bottom of my bed. I blearily rolled over and peered over the edge. Pale sunlight was filtering through the blinds over the window, a patch resting on a fluff of white feathers on the floor. An empty cardboard box lay nearby.
"He ate it all," my roommate said accusingly.
"What time is it?" I yawned.
"Seven thirty."
"That's nice. I'm going back to sleep."
I rolled over and ignored her further attempts to harass me.
Gootchi didn't move for the rest of the day. He lay on his spot on the floor, utterly gorged. In fact, Cayla assumed he was just one of my stuffed animals when she stopped by to grab us for lunch. When Terraile came by to pick him up that evening he barely lifted his head in response to the shadowed shoyru's voice.
"Why'd you let him eat so much?" she asked me.
"He really liked the cereal."
"Obviously. Well, thanks for watching him for me."
"No problem."
"He good for you?"
I took a deep breath.
"Yes," I replied through gritted teeth, "He was wonderful. A perfect angel."