She opened it to find Malcolm standing there, holding something in his jacket. After Emma let him in, he opened up the front of his coat, and Emma saw a little black and white furball looking up at her with huge eyes. “A kitten! Oh, he’s so cute! Where did you get him, Mal?” Emma asked, hoping against hope that his parents gave in and let him get an animal. But Malcolm’s answer made her heart sink. “I found him. He was hiding under a bush in the front yard. Do you think he’s OK? He’s awfully little.” “He is. But I think he looks fine. Let’s take a look. Come on inside,” she invited, motioning toward the kitchen. Following her in, but still clutching the kitten, Mal walked back to the kitchen with Emma, looking down at the little bundle of fur in his arms adoringly. “Do you think we can keep him?” he asked. “Let’s look first to see if he has a tag,” Emma said, but she realized quickly that the animal had no collar. She sat down on one of the stools and looked seriously at the boy.
