Chapter 1
The junkyard was noisy and busy as it was expected from a night such as that. Grizabella tried hard not to make herself know, walking over the top of the fence to reach the origin of all the hustle and bustle.
The Jellicle Ball.
Oh, it brought back so many good memories.
Grizabella remembered her first ball as clear as the moonlight. She was still a young kitten, and while meant to just sit and watch the other cats dancing and singing, she put herself on the spotlight – this time an actual spotlight – much to her mother's exasperation.
The first time she had danced on the Jellicle Ball, as an adult, with all the other cats was such a marvelous moment; she could feel the moonlight falling over her, energy flowing through her veins like lightning bolts, making her want to move, to express herself, to enjoy herself.
She giggled silently at the memories.
The way she had danced with her sisters in later balls always brought a smile to her face. They were the junkyard's famous little trio after all. And, even if Grizabella was the biggest "star" of the group, Jennyanydots and Jellylorum were very dearly beloved by all cats – and even had their own fans.
Looking down at the stage built in between the large tire truck, and the old TSE-1 car that looked rustier than ever before, Grizabella was almost certain that Jenny and Jelly were the ones that had taken care of covering the junkyard with colorful lights and ornaments; it was the type of thing the two would love working on.
Her dear sisters…
It had been so long. She wondered how they were doing, if they were fine, happy, healthy…? Had they had more kittens or taken more mates? She wondered if Jelly and Asparagus still argued all night to then cuddle all day; or if Jennyanydots still prepared Skimbleshanks a little "lunch" for him to take to the train station, and if those two still hanged around with Bustopher…
Grizabella sighed, hugging herself as the cold wind surrounded her.
She thought of the last time she had tried returning to the tribe. The glares and hisses she received from those that once smiled and laughed with her. The rejection hurt every time, it wasn't something anyone could get used to.
The pain, anger and sadness on Jenny and Jelly's usually calm and loving eyes…
Grizabella didn't want to think about that, didn't want to remember those sad things, not now; but she knew the memories would come back to her. She wasn't there to reminisce, she was there to try again, but her mind was always flooded by the memories of a happier time.
Some would call her foolish… How many times had she already tried returning? How many times had she been shunned away by the tribe?
But she still returned.
Grizabella had always been called a dreamer.
"You spend too much time in your fantasy world, while you should keep your paws more grounded!" Jelly would tell her with a huff and a flick of her tail.
Well, if Grizabella had always been a dreamer, she wasn't going to stop now.
The lights dimmed in the stage and silence reigned for a moment. Grizabella repositioned herself on the fence, paying attention and pushing her noisy thoughts aside.
Music swelled in the air as a white cat graciously stood alone in the middle of the stage.
A white cat. Grizabella remembered a lovely white cat. She was part of the Jellicle Tribe but rarely joined them, much like her brother, Bustopher Jones. Oh, Grizabella could barely remember her name… But she could remember the two would meet by the siblings' large human house and sometimes spend time together during the Jellicle Balls.
But that couldn't be her. This one was so small and thin and looked so young…
Grizabella's eyes focused on the white cat's slow and deliberate movements, her dance was so sweet, so pure, gracious…
It reminded her once more of her young years, when she used to dance in a similar fashion. But that was a long time ago; and just thinking about doing what the young queen did, was enough to make Grizabella's back ache.
She pushed the thoughts aside, watching as the white cat finished her dance and another cat rushed into the stage.
This one was black and white, a little tuxedo tom. He almost looked like a small Bustopher Jones – much, much smaller.
"Jellicle cats come out tonight, Jellicle cats come one, come all!" The tux sang, his voice sweet and jovial, as the stage was drowned in the light and the other cats joined the duo.
Grizabella recognized many of them, though she did see many new faces – mostly kittens. Guess Jenny and Jelly must have been at work these past years indeed.
And her heart fluttered inside her chest when she saw a rather tall gray tabby, standing over the large truck tire that has probably been sitting there for years by now.
"Munkustrap…" She said in nothing more than a whisper. The name weighted on her throat, but it still warmed her heart.
Her sweet second son, Munkustrap. He was so big now, an adult tom. He looked so much like his father by now… Grizabella's mind drifted off to her once mate, Old Deuteronomy and she couldn't help but sigh, wrapping her arms around herself, but not because of the cold this time.
"Jellicle cats meet once a year at the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice!" Munkustrap announced and his voice was so similar, but so different from the voice Grizabella remembered her little tom having.
It had been quite a while since her last time wandering by the territory of the tribe… She rarely got to interact with anyone, and those who saw her would hiss until she backed away from the junkyard. She could barely remember when was the last time she had been around. It felt like each rejection forced her to stay away for even longer, but she always returned.
Grizabella held back a sigh, feeling a soft stinging in her eyes.
It hurt to think she had missed so much of her sons' life. She wondered what Munkustrap had done these last years, if he had taken a mate or two, if he had kittens – she was pretty sure one or two of those kittens had to be his. Her son, a father. It was hard to wrap her head around it.
Oh, and what about her dear, little Rum Tum Tugger?
Grizabella looked around, trying to find him in the crowd, but to no avail. He had always looked different from most other cats of the tribe and she knew she would recognize her son anywhere, probably much easier than Munkustrap. Tugger's mane was still growing back when she was banished, it was probably so large by now…
"When Old Deuteronomy, just before dawn, through a silence you feel you could cut with a knife!" Munkustrap continued announcing, his voice strong, serious but joyful. The type of voice one would expect from a protector, a story teller, a leader.
Grizabella sighed, watching as the Jellicle's celebrated the start of a new Jellicle Ball, hugging and nuzzling each other.
She felt drawn by the smiles and happy looks and finally found strength and will to move from the fence, feeling her bones aching due to the cold of the night.
Grizabella carefully jumped down to a pile of old cans, ignoring the pain on her leg as she wandered closer to the stage. It was no use for her to stay on the fence. She didn't come just to watch, she had come to join.
Or at least try to…
Once again.
