When I arrived home from school, the black cat was lounging on our front porch stairs, sunning itself in the warm October rays. Its eyes were closed and it seemed to be sleeping, but as I approached the house it lifted its head and looked at me. I hastened my walk to a run and leapt over it, taking the other stairs two at a time as I made my way into the living room. I closed the door behind me, took my book bag off of my shoulder, and sat down on the couch. I pulled out my Local History textbook and opened it. As I began to leaf through it, I heard a slight tapping behind me. I turned slightly, surprised to find the cat standing on its back paws, scratching at the window.

I tried to ignore the irritating noise that it was making—tap… tap… tap… tappitty… tap—and turned my attention back to the book. I wasn't completely sure what I was looking for among its pages, but I figured I would know when I saw it. If an Indian warrior could come back from the dead as an eagle, and my classmate's grandfather could return as a deer, this creepy black cat could be someone I knew. It made sense. Right? I just couldn't put everything together. I couldn't think with it looking at me, though—even if a pane of glass separated us.

I closed the book and fished around in my bag for a piece of paper and a pen. Grabbing both, I wrote a quick note so that my brothers wouldn't worry about me when they returned from work, placed it on the dining room table, and headed for the side door. It seemed that, if I wanted to be truly alone, I'd have to go somewhere else—somewhere far so that the cat couldn't follow me.

As I emerged from the house, I scanned the area for the cat. It was still on the front porch, sitting contently with its tail wrapped around its forepaws, just glaring at me. I quickened my pace to a jog and rounded the corner.

When the bus came by for its routine stop, I hopped on, dropped some change in the box, and took a seat towards the back. I rested my head against the window and shut my eyes. There was one place where I could go to try and think about this—one place that seemed natural and wouldn't tip off my brothers into thinking that I was acting foolish. I mean, we had all lost two of our closest buddies just over a year ago, and it would make perfect sense for me to go and pay my respects.

The cemetery where Johnny and Dallas were buried was on the other side of town, just before the rich/poor border that separated the Greasers from the Socs. It was a small cemetery, tucked neatly into a row of businesses and shopping stores, and surrounded by big old oak trees—probably original to the town itself. It was a peaceful place, definitely not one of those scary cemeteries that you saw in the movies, and I always felt calm whenever I visited. I was able to do some really good thinking there…

I watched out the window as the bus slowed down to a stop. I waited for the doors to open and then hopped down onto the sidewalk. I approached the cemetery's rod iron gates and went inside. I veered off to the right, down a narrow gravel path and stopped at a plain looking headstone. It was Johnny's. I sat on the ground and just looked at it. I sat in silence—Johnny and I didn't have to talk half of the time when he was alive—and just peered over at it.

Johnny Cade

May He Rest in Peace

1950 –1966

I traced the letters of his first name with my finger and sighed. It had only been a year, but already it was too long. I missed him terribly.

Was he the one that had come back to tell me something? Was the black cat his messenger? I thought back to all the places where the black cat had turned up—all around my house and at the lot—did any hold a significance?

I couldn't think of anything. Obviously we had all had our share of moments at my house and at the lot… It could have been any one of us if those were the only clues to the cat's identity and purpose. But those eyes. They were blue—I was sure of that—and Johnny had had dark brown, almost black eyes. Eyes that only reflected warmth and hope, even though his life had been far from easy. The cat's blue eyes were angry and cold. They reminded me of Dally…

"I was nice to see you again, buddy," I said softly as I stood up from beside Johnny's headstone. "I'll visit again soon. I promise." I felt a pang of guilt that I hadn't been there as much as I would have liked, that life had made me forget about him in some ways. I shook the feeling away and headed back toward the main gates and then deep into the back of the cemetery.

Dally was buried under one of the tallest trees there. I couldn't help but be reminded of his last stand underneath the streetlight. Was he gallant in that moment? I couldn't tell, but somehow I could see Johnny being proud of him.

I came upon Dally's headstone and looked down at it. Was he trying to tell me something? I crouched down next to his grave and sighed. What would Dally want with me, anyway? As I pondered that and many other questions, a leaf from the tree looming over me fell down and landed on my shoulder. I looked up into the canopy and noticed a great deal of rustling. My eyes followed the movement until a shape emerged—it was small and black, too big to be a bird or a squirrel and too small to be anything else.

In disbelief I stood up and put my hand above my eyes, shielding out the bright sun that managed to filter through the tree's many branches. It was a cat all right, the cat. I watched as it skillfully made its way down the large trunk and to the ground.

I had never seen a cat climb down a tree like that—so smooth and effortlessly. From what I had seen in the past, most cats could go up but couldn't quite remember how to get down. This one was different.

The cat made its way over to Dally's headstone and hopped on top of it. It sat there comfortably and then made a strange growling sound. I took a step back as I watched it.

"What do you want?" I asked quietly as if I was keeping the question to myself.

The black cat just looked at me and cocked its head to the side slightly. It seemed amused that I was flustered by its appearance and stared in my direction. How did it get to the cemetery so quickly? I would have been a half hour walk for me, probably more for an animal of its size. I closed my eyes for a second to think, and when I opened them the cat was sitting at my feet. It was in the exact same position as it had been on the headstone, just closer to me, and it seemed as if it had teleported to its new location.

I sidestepped slightly and headed back for the gravel path.

So much for getting a chance to think about things…