22 “N-no!” I tried to scream, but my cry came out in a choked whisper. The glowing red eyes seemed to burn my face. I jumped up. Sent my chair toppling onto its back. I staggered away from the table, my eyes on the open backpack. I spun to the door and saw Amanda enter the lunchroom with two or three other girls. I ran to her, stumbling over a kid’s backpack. “Hey, watch out!” he shouted. Some kids meowed. Someone threw an empty milk carton at me. It bounced off my shoulder. “Amanda!” I called breathlessly. “Come here. You—you have to see this. I found the cat!” I pulled her away from her friends. She gave them a helpless wave. “Catch you later,” she called to them. She turned to me. “What’s your problem, Mickey? Why are you freaking out? Are you having a total meltdown?” “Don’t talk,” I said. I pulled her through the crowded aisle between tables to the back of the room. “Don’t talk, Amanda. Just look.” I grabbed the backpack off the table. I held it up to her and pulled it open so she could see inside.
