Pet Peeve

(Saturday Morning, August 10th)

"Hey. You." Carlos turns around and watches the black-haired woman stride towards him, "You're Cruella's son, right?"

"Um," Carlos hesitates. "Yeah."

She pushes him against a building, "When you get home tell your mother to stop killing my mother's cats or she will lose something she loves too."

He stares at her, "Sorry. What was your name?"

"Drizella Tremaine," she spats, "and your mother keeps taking our cats."

"How do you know it's my mother?" Carlos questions.

"Oh, jeeze. I wonder why." She gestures to the barren landscape, "No animals. No birds. What? Is she making coats of feathers now?"

"I don't know," Carlos defends.

"My mother is old and tired," Drizella retaliates. "She can't keep going on crying every week, knowing her babies have been murdered."

"And you want me to tell my mom to stop?" He shakes his head, "I can't do that."

"You better," she points a finger to his chest, "or else I will kill her baby." She grins, "So, get in your run-down home, and tell your psychopath of a mother what I just told you. Okay?"

"Okay," Carlos agrees, and when she backs away, he heads inside.

"Carlos. Is that you?" she shouts. "Dinner's ready."

Carlos frowns, as he sets his backpack by the door and heads into the kitchen. He sits down at the rectangular, wooden table. He lowers his eyes from his mother and traces the large, long cuts in the table. "Drizella Tremaine wants you to stop turning their cats into clothes."

"But that's so wasteful," she pouts. "When I was a girl, we were expected to use every part of the animals we ate."

"She said if you don't stop killing her mother's cats, that she'll kill me."

"It's just a threat." She squishes the face of the stuffed dog on her shoulder, "Isn't that right my little poodlekins?"

"That's a dalmatian."

She points a finger at him, "Quiet. And Eat." before she sets the cat-shaped roast onto the table. "Bon Appetit."

Carlos uses the large knife to cut the leg from the cat, "What did you turn this one into?"

She shows him her hands, and he sees the orange, striped fur. "Mittens."

It looks like Aziz's cat. Carlos takes three deep breathes, sitting up in bed, before he pushes the bangs back from his sweaty forehead, "It's just a dream."

When Carlos sits down for lunch, he sees the meat and cheese sandwich on his plate, "Nice. You chose my meal for me."

"If you eat the meat with other things," Aladdin explains, "you won't go through as much of it at a time."

"All I see is bread," Carlos complains, before he takes a bite out of it. "And all I can taste is the cheese."

"It's one sandwich," he negates. "You can handle it."

After Carlos takes two more large bites, Aziz comes into the dining room, "I can't find him anywhere."

"Who?"

"Leo," Aziz worries. "I haven't seen him all morning. I even shook his favorite treats."

"He's probably just sleeping in a cupboard or box somewhere," Jasmine reassures. "Cats are naturally nocturnal, and enclosed spaces make them feel safe."

Carlos thinks, "Does Leo have orange fur?"

"Yes," Aziz excites. "Why? Have you seen him?"

"Me?" Carlos widens his eyes, before he lowers them. "No. No. Of course, not." He glances from Aziz's parents to him, before stuffs the last of the sandwich into his mouth and stands from the table. "I'm just going to go."

"You're not going to ask about dessert?" Aladdin inquires.

"No," Carlos fidgets. "I kind of want to just run, clear my mind and that. "There's a track or treadmill around here, right?" When they fail to answer, Carlos shakes his head, "Never mind. I can find it myself."

"The dungeon," Aladdin answers. "It got turned into a gym. There's a track marked if you don't want to use the treadmill."

Carlos tries to smile, "Thanks." before he walks away and finds the basement door at the other end of the foyer.

Aziz sits down, "He knows something."

"He's just stressed," his father dismisses.

"He's being weird," Aziz reinstates.

"It's early for him," his father recalls. "He's probably just tired."

"And that's why he's going for a run instead of asking for brownies?" Aziz disbelieves.

His father rubs the back of his neck, "Well."

"Having dessert too early in the morning can make you nauseous," Jasmine mentions. "He's probably just not hungry, yet."

"Yes," Aladdin agrees. "I'm sure that's what it is."

"Right," Aziz contemplates, before he places some food onto his plate.

"Still running?" Aziz notices.

When Aziz steps onto the track, Carlos stops in front of him. He catches his breath, "What are you doing down here?"

Aziz eyes over him, "Checking on you. You've been down here all day."

"I had a nightmare earlier," he explains. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"What was it about?"

Carlos tiredly looks at him, "You don't want to know."

"Was it about my cat?" he tests, and Carlos quiets. "You don't need to worry. I found him. He was under my bed."

"So, he wasn't eaten," Carlos smiles. "That's great."

"Why would my cat get eaten?"

"Oh." Carlos falters, "Well, you know, just if it'd gotten out." He scratches his head, "I don't know what kind of animals live in deserts or, uh, oasies."

"An oasis," Aziz corrects, before he observes him in suspicion. "Have you ever eaten a cat before?"

"What? No," Carlos eyes away. "Of course, not." Aziz stares at him, and Carlos faces him, "I have never killed a cat before."

"You just eat them," he concludes.

Carlos takes a deep breath, "What do you want me to say, Az? I had a fucked-up childhood. I didn't exactly choose what was for dinner when I was five."

"I want you to tell me you never thought about eating my cats," his eyes widen.

He takes a moment, "You're my friend. I wouldn't do that to you."

"And the other hundred million cat owners?" Aziz shouts. "Would you do it to them?"

"This is Auradon," Carlos counters. "I don't need to eat cats to survive here."

"This is Agrabah," Aziz corrects. "And you've been complaining about not having meat, since your first week here."

"I didn't complain that much," Carlos defends.

"You complained enough," Aziz assesses. "If you're willing to eat pets in desperate circumstances—I'm assuming they were pets—then what's stopping you from having mine?"

"I told you." Carlos emphasizes, "You're my friend." before he eyes over him. "Or, at least, you're supposed to be."

Aziz frowns, "What's up with your obsession with meat?"

"What's up with your obsession with plants?" Carlos whimpers, "Don't you think I feel guilty enough? Those animals had families, people who cared and depended on them, and I can't even tell you how many of them I've eaten in my life."

"And none of that makes you think about starting a vegetarian lifestyle?"

The tears fall to his cheeks, but he quickly wipes them away, "I can't have this conversation with you."

When Carlos walks away, Aziz yells, "If you were really sorry, you would."

Carlos takes another bite of the spaghetti, "Beef's allowed in your religion, isn't it? Why's the meatballs made of tofu?"

"Here we go again," Aziz sighs.

"It's just more humane," Aladdin explains. "We try to keep to a vegetarian diet outside of special occasions."

"And it has more iron than meat," Jasmine mentions. "We know you've been worried about that."

Carlos pokes his fork at the spaghetti, before he looks at the black cat meowing near the table. "Stop it," Aziz stresses.

Carlos frowns at him, "Stop what?"

"Looking at our cats," he protests.

"It was there," Carlos defends.

"Aziz," his father addresses. "What's going on?"

"He eats cats," Aziz divulges, and Carlos places a hand to his forehead.

Aziz's little sister sadly looks at him, "You eat cats?"

"No," Carlos denies, before he faces Aladdin. "My mother ate cats. I just lived with her." The table silences, and Carlos glances between them. "I'm not doing this." He stands from his seat, closes his eyes, and steadies himself.

"Are you okay?" Aladdin concerns.

"Yeah," Carlos sighs. "I probably just stood up too fast. It happens to Evie all the time."

"Evie's anorexic," Aziz rebuttals.

Carlos tiredly gapes at him, and Aladdin suggests, "Maybe you should sit back down and eat more."

"No." Carlos feels the acid in his throat, "I feel sick. I'm lying down." He starts to walk towards the stairs, "There's base in the bathroom, right?"

"Antacids are in the medicine cabinet," Jasmine confirms.

"Jasmine," Aladdin requests, "can you take Aisha and have dinner on the patio?"

"Oh," she realizes. "Of course."

After they leave out the large curtains, Aladdin turns to Aziz, "How did you find out Carlos's mother cooked cats for dinner?"

"The way he was acting," Aziz answers. "When I told him I found my cat, he was so happy to know he wasn't eaten. He assumed Leo got ate by someone or something."

"And then?" he questions.

"And then I asked him if he ate cats, and he lied to me," Aziz asserts. "I know him, I know his expressions, and I know he would eat another cat if it meant getting meat."

His father pauses, "There's one week left. Carlos said he could handle it."

"He also said he doesn't eat cats," Aziz recounts.

"Maybe he doesn't want to."

"Maybe he thinks he'll need to," Aziz distrusts. "Meat is all he ever talks about now."

"So, we keep an eye on him," Aladdin solves.

"No one's keeping an eye on him now," Aziz points out.

"He was feeling sick."

"He was lightheaded," Aziz dismisses. "He's still hungry."

"If he's lightheaded, then he's not catching any cats," his father reassures. "I can check on him after dinner, see where his head is at."

"Carlos?" Aladdin opens the door, "Carlos?"

"I didn't tell you to come in," he murmurs.

Aladdin walks over to the bed, "You still feel sick?"

"I don't know," Carlos whispers. He pulls up the desk chair and sits, before he feels Carlos's forehead. "Don't touch me."

"I was just feeling how warm you are," he explains.

"Don't," Carlos says again. "You smell weird."

He picks up the half-empty bottle, "How many antacids did you take?"

Carlos hums, "One."

"One?"

"And then three and a handful," Carlos finishes.

Aladdin sighs, "Did it help?"

"Well, I don't have puke in my throat."

He hears the noise, "Was that your stomach?"

Carlos rolls his eyes, "I guess, I'm still hungry." and he turns away from him.

"Maybe we should take you to a doctor."

"And tell them what?" Carlos dismisses. "That I'm going through meat withdrawals?"

"Carlos." He hesitates, "I want to help you."

"Then leave me alone."

"If you need to be taken back to Auradon," he offers, "I can do that."

"It's one week," Carlos shakes. "I can take it."

Aladdin takes a moment, "Aziz is worried about the cats."

"If I eat any of the cats," Carlos's voice raises, "you can kill me."

"I'm being serious."

"So, am I." Carlos tightly holds his stomach, "I'm so hungry, I want to die."

He frowns, "What are you wanting?"

Carlos takes a minute, "How about ham with brown sugar?"

Aladdin nods, "I'll see what I can do."

Carlos comments, "It doesn't sound like you're leaving."

"Well," he begins. "I need to ask what your diet was like on the Isle."

"I told you."

"Tell me again," he requests.

Carlos groans, "My mother made dinner three times a week. The fridge had a lock on it, so I had to find my own food the rest of the week. Sometimes I stole half-rotten apples, dug in the trash behind the cake or butcher shop."

"So, sweets and meat?"

"Oh. No." Carlos explains, "The Isle doesn't have sugar. There's cane sugar, I guess, but mostly the cakes were butter and ripe fruit. And then, after I became friends with Mal and Jay, Jay would help steal food from the actual stalls and stores. And Mal gave me her scraps."

"Were they cooked?"

"Were they cooked?" Carlos repeats. "What kind of question is that?"

"I just need to know."

"Mal used to call me a scavenger," Carlos confides, before he turns towards him. "I promise, I'm not normally this picky."

"Don't worry," Aladdin evenly expresses. "I believe you."

"I'm not going to eat the cats," he assures.

"You better not," Aladdin negotiates, "or you're not getting that ham."

"Where you getting pork in Agrabah?"

Aladdin thinks, "I know a place."