The Spotted Tail

A large man walked up onto the stage. He marched to the podium and the orchestra music faded.

“Good evening and welcome,” the man said with a deep voice that carried throughout the room, silencing everyone. “For those of you who don’t know who I am, I am Judge Elmer Schumauker. We would like to thank all of our sponsors for this event.”

Paxine thought the name was familiar. She applauded with everyone while the Judge mentioned the sponsors of the evening, but Paxine didn’t hear the names. Another cat passed between the tables, unseen by anyone but her. That was a Tail she didn’t know about. Whose?

Judge Schumauker’s voice changed. “Children who cannot be protected and cared for by their parents…”

That reminded her that her parents were somewhere here, but she hadn’t seen them.

“Even some of the most well-to-do parents, have problems with protecting their children…” Judge Schumauker said.

Paxine knew the judge meant her dad and she followed his eyes. Her dad and mom were at a table by themselves as if everyone was snubbing them. Her dad showed no indication that he knew that Judge Schumauker was talking about him.

“We have some special guests this evening…” Judge Schumauker said, waving off to the side of the room.

Along the edge of the room, came twelve children. They were poorly dressed and even their hair hadn’t been combed. Paxine couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Someone was trying to make people believe these were underprivileged children needing protection. She knew half of them. They went to her school. Then it occurred to her they were trying to make her dad look even worse by using children her own age.

Judge Schumauker ushered the children up on the stage. All of the children looked uncomfortable which only added to the image of poor children.

“This is the year of the child. Our theme for this year’s Gala is the value of our children. They need to be protected and nurtured,” Judge Schumauker said.

Paxine’s own feelings told her that she had to do something. She surprised herself, finding herself moving toward the stage, not even aware, she had stood up. No one questioned or stopped her. Perhaps they thought she was the next speaker. There was her grandma, but her grandma did nothing to stop her.

Judge Schumauker’s voice swept over her, but she didn’t hear his words, until…

“The Child Protection Act is important…” Judge Schumauker said.

“Excuse me,” Paxine said, taking the microphone out of his hand, causing him to back off in surprise.

“Good evening,” she said, facing everyone and feeling overwhelmed, but she knew what she wanted to say.

“I want to thank Judge Schumauker for his support of the Child Protection Act, but you are being misinformed,”she said, almost jumping at the sound of her own voice.

Judge Schumauker reached out for the microphone, but she backed away.

“Peter,” Paxine said. Her voice boomed throughout the room.

A boy in the middle jumped, looking guilty.

“This is Peter Framville. He’s a nephew of Judge Sampling who I see isn’t here tonight. Very convenient. Only the judge would recognize his own nephew. These children are here to represent poor and underprivileged children. I don’t think Peter is poor or underprivileged. He goes to Washington Secondary school.”

Judge Schumauker’s hand dropped to his side. He stared at Peter as if he had never seen him before and wondered where he came from.

“Chanti,” Paxine said.

A girl, first in line, turned as red as her hair.

“She also goes to Washington Secondary School. She’s the daughter of Betty Charcenter, the principal of Washington. Mrs. Charcenter isn’t in the political circles of this crowd so none of you may know her. I think Mrs. Charcenter would be aghast to see her daughter dressed this way.”

Chanti covered her face, looking like she wanted to faint.

A murmur rippled through the crowd and the faces were changing from amusement to disapproval.

“I think most of you would be embarrassed to support the Child Protection Act if you had actually read it. I have. On the fourth page, a single paragraph talks about the right to bear children. It means that the power to decide who can have children is in the hands of the government. If that happens, people like Judge Sampling would never be. He comes from a poor family of eight. He worked his way through college and is now a highly successful judge. Then there is Mr. Huntsboro.”

Mr. Huntsboro stood by a pretty woman who wasn’t his wife. His hand wasn’t where it should have been. He didn’t look appreciative of the sudden attention.

“You!” Patricia, his wife said, her heels clicking like pistons in an engine gaining speed.

Slap.

“You no good…” Patricia said, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Security dashed in to intervene before she slapped him again. A red slash spread across Mr. Huntsboro’s cheek from his wife’s diamond-encrusted wedding ring.

“Well, maybe Mr. Huntsboro isn’t a good example,” Paxine said.

The noise level of the room rose with murmurs, chairs creaking, and Patricia screaming.

Paxine brought the microphone closer. “He’s also from a poor family. His mother raised him and his two brothers…”

Someone stepped next to her.

“…alone,” Paxine said.

“You’re doing an excellent job. Keep going,” her grandma said in a whisper.

A shiver of excitement moved up Paxine’s spine. She felt strong, and she knew what she was doing. The room quieted now that Mrs. Huntsboro was gone.

“Many of our finest artists and musicians come from poor beginnings.” Everyone was looking at her. Not her grandma, who stood back, but her. “Last I heard there are hundreds of laws protecting children. Do we really need another one? Actually, I think we need a law that protects people from laws.”

A few people laughed.

“I should know. I’m Paxine Cushing. There have been numerous attempts against my life because my dad doesn’t support the Child Protection Act. I go to school with half these kids.” She waved a hand toward the children still on the stage. Chanti knees wobbled.

“I’m here tonight because sometimes the best way to protect something is to keep it right in plain sight. You may have heard that I was missing. Not only am I not missing, I know exactly where I am and where I stand. I stand with my parents who are firmly against this Act. The Child Protection Act is not about children, but about power.”

The entire hall turned toward her parents. There were a number of embarrassed faces. Her parents were standing, smiling at her.

“I too know where I stand, and I know where my daughter stands,” her dad said, nodding his approval to her.

Everyone stood there looking at her parents and then back at her. Paxine felt that she needed to wait to let the turn of events sink in before she concluded. Her dad winked at her. It was time to finish.

“I’m here to simply ask you to read the Child Protection Act before you support it. Thank you,” she said, almost feeling as if someone else spoke, but it was her voice and it was calm, containing a power she never knew was there.

The room was so quiet, Paxine could hear herself breathing. Then…

Applause.

A roar of applause.

“Watch who isn’t applauding,” her grandma said.

There were too many people to watch and Paxine didn’t know them all. Her parents were applauding. Mr. Huntsboro wasn’t applauding.

Judge Schumauker had the sense to usher the children off the stage. He handed them off to another person before disappearing.

Paxine made her way off the stage, her grandma following behind. Her parents and Garon met her at the bottom of the steps. However before a single word could be spoken, Patricia burst in. She was waving a gun and her face was ugly.

“You….you,” Patricia said, screaming.

No one moved.

Paxine wondered just for a moment how terrible security was.

“The Foundation is mine…” Patricia said to Paxine’s grandma with a scream, but her scream changed tones when a gray streak knocked the gun out of her hand. A brown streak raced between her feet, causing her to lose her balance, falling hard onto the floor, her breath knocked out of her with an unladylike grunt.

Her dad raised a hand and security surrounded them, securing the gun. Two security men helped Patricia up, keeping hold of her.

“NO,” Patricia said in a screeching voice. “You don’t understand. She’s retiring. It’s mine. Mine…”

Patricia fell against one of the security men holding her. “My shoe. You broke my shoe.” She tried to grab the high heel lying snapped off from her shoe, but the security guards prevented her.

“Get her out of here,” Paxine’s dad said with a wave of his hand.

Patricia limped off, refusing to take her shoe off

“You ruined my shoes. My shoes…” Patricia said, wailing and moaning. It was a relief when the door closed behind her, hushing her voice.

“Well,” her grandma said, watching Patricia go. “That explains that.”

“What do you mean?” Paxine said.

“She thought she could replace me,” her grandma said.

“But, she doesn’t have a Tail,” Paxine said.

“Exactly,” her grandma said, flashing her eyes around.

Paxine noticed some people moving through the crowd, following her grandma’s eyes, then her mom was hugging her tightly.

“When did you grow up,” her mom said, looking at her hard. “Mom, did you dress her up?”

“I bought the dress myself,” Paxine said with a smile. “Garon helped.”

“I just paid for it,” he said.

“She does have your tastes,” her grandma said.

“And you will be a great stateswoman,” her mom said.

“I agree,” her dad said.

“I think not.” The voice growled just loud enough for them to hear. Mr. Huntsboro was a few steps away, holding a bloody towel to his face. He had a gun.

So much for security, Paxine thought, with everyone having guns and Patricia providing the distraction. Everyone in the room still focused on the door Patricia exited with all the security personnel. Two men standing by that door were all that were left, and they couldn’t see what Mr. Huntsboro was up to.

“I’m not too pleased to have my background reported at such a public event. Or my popular Child Protection Act blasted out of existence by a mere child,” Mr. Huntsboro said, pointing the gun at her. “There is too much at stake. I think we’ll just move out of here nice and quiet.”

“I think not,” her grandma said, looking rather fierce, mimicking Mr. Huntsboro.

“I only need one shot to take out that which is dear to you all,” Mr. Huntsboro said, giving a short laugh as he bobbed the gun at Paxine to make his point.

“You have more to deal with than just us,” her grandma said.

“No damn cat is going to trip me up like my wife. Any cat comes near me and its dead,” Mr. Huntsboro said with a growl.

“It’s not THE cat, I would worry about. It’s the Tails,” her grandma said.

Even though it worked last time for Garon, Paxine still didn’t think it was smart to confuse someone pointing a gun at you.

Mr. Huntsboro laughed, motioning for them to move off.

Her grandma did move, but to step in front of Paxine. Her parents and Garon moved a step away. They were no longer a tight group.

“You don’t think I plan for things like this?” Mr. Huntsboro said, revealing a small pistol from beneath the towel. “You are idiots and so predictable.”

No one predicted Paxine stepping around her grandma with Tache’s wooden spoon in her hand.

“I would stay away from my grandma, if I were you,” Paxine said, pointing the spoon at Mr. Huntsboro.

Mr. Huntsboro laughed. “Just what are you planning on doing with that? Poison me with soup?”

“Disarm you,” Paxine said, furious with the mention of soup.

“You need to learn a few things little girl,” Mr. Huntsboro said with a swift kick that Paxine didn’t expect, sending the spoon flying from her hand.

“No…” Paxine said, ignoring the sting to her hand feeling like everything switched to slow motion, as the spoon flew through the air.

Tache appeared out of nowhere, flying, catching the spoon in mid-air. Then everything sped up when Tache landed, whipping his tail, spinning his whole body.

Bang.

Pop.

“No…” Paxine said, with a scream.

Mr. Huntsboro’s gun fired and a poof of black smoke encased him. Out of the black smoke dropped a gun.

“Yeow,” Mr. Huntsboro said, screaming. “What is this? It’s burning. Fire. I’m on fire.”

Another gun dropped out of the black smoke.

“Fire,” Mr. Huntsboro said as if calling for help, dropping to his knees.

A gray tail flashed past Mr. Huntsboro and the second gun spun away out of Mr. Huntsboro’s reach.

Paxine’s dad gave Mr. Huntsboro a hard kick to his back, knocking him over.

“I’m on fire,” Mr. Huntsboro said, pounding on his legs in desperation.

“Not for long,” Garon said, waving smoke out of his face, not looking too worried.

Her dad kicked away both guns to make sure they stayed out of reach.

Swoosh. A fire extinguisher doused Mr. Huntsboro and he looked like a fallen snowman.

“I’m burning. I’m burning. I’ll kill that cat,” Mr. Huntsboro said.

“I wouldn’t touch his legs,” Garon said.

“Don’t touch his legs. Chemical burn,” her dad said, directing the security men, who were running in from all directions.

“Oh, dear,” her grandma said sounding pained.

“Paxy, how’s your hand?” her dad said.

“It’s fine. What’s wrong Grandma?” Paxine said.

“Tinder,” her grandma said, looking at Garon. “Tinder has popper on her.”

Tinder limped up to her grandma. She mouthed mews of distress. Garon knelt, taking a bottle from his pocket. He poured it over the black popper goop that was burning her leg.

“That will neutralize it and keep it from spreading. She’ll have a bald patch for a while. The fur will fall out, but it will grow back,” Garon said.

Tears ran down her grandma’s face.

“She’ll be okay,” Garon said, pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, putting his arm around her.

“She hurts,” her grandma said, dabbing at her tears taking care not to smear her makeup.

“Yes. It does hurt,” Garon said, holding her tight.

Paxine didn’t feel any pain, except for a little in her hand. Tache? Was he hurt? Shot? Dead? No, Garon said it hurt when your Tail died,,, Really hurt.

Clatter.

Tache emerged from under a table, dropping the spoon at her feet. He gave Tinder a comforting nose touch before disappearing back into the crowd.

“Paxy, how is your hand,” her dad said.

“It’s fine,” she said, relieved that Tache was alright.

Her dad pressed and poked her hand, moving all her fingers.

“Really. My hand is fine,” she said to reassure him.

“Nothing broken. Good,” her dad said, looking torn.

“We’re okay,” Garon said to her dad. “We have our own security. You go check on yours.”

Her dad gave a little smile and nod, leaving the group.

Paxine’s mom hugged her tight again. “You are grown up.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Paxine said with a smile, her eyes following her dad as he moved across the room. No one was snubbing him now. People stepped up to greet or acknowledge him warmly, now that his daughter was no longer missing and supposedly never had been.

Paxine thought how funny people could be. Did they think he would forget how they acted? Her dad was too smart for that. He remembered everything. She knew; she could never get away with anything twice.

A Tail crossed her dad’s path. His eyes followed it while no one else noticed. She expected him to frown, but he smiled.

Paxine realized her mom was crying.

“I’m fine mom, really,” Paxine said, finding that with her high-heeled shoes, she was almost as tall as her mom.

“I was so worried, even though I knew Tache was taking care of you,” her mom said, hugging her tighter.

“He did a good job,” she said, hugging her back, knowing that no one ever outgrew hugs.

“Best I’ve ever seen a Tail do,” her grandma said to them, but her eyes were looking over Garon’s shoulder.

A woman approached and there was a tail poking out from the folds of her long dress.

“This is JayLee, your new nanny,” her grandma said in introduction. Her grandma looked around. Only Garon and her mom stood near them. “Actually, Paxine, JayLee is your second cousin, but don’t tell your dad. And this is EJ, her Tail.”

“Hi,” Paxine said.

A spotted cat emerged. She was almost as large as Tache, but more of a sandier color. EJ was the other cat she had seen.

“She’s pretty,” Paxine said, offering a hand to EJ.

EJ just brushed Paxine’s hand with her nose, then retreated, curling her tail around Paxine’s hand.

“Mew,” EJ said, disappearing under a table.

“Where she going?” Paxine said.

“She has a job to do,” JayLee said. “She likes Tache.”

“That’s good,” Paxine said, laughing. “Especially, if we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“You okay?” JayLee said to her grandma.

“Tinder. Popper,” her grandma said.

JayLee nodded in understanding.

Judge Schumauker reappeared near the orchestra, motioning with his hands for them to play. He then waved to someone Paxine couldn’t see. Waitstaff appeared in a wave, offering trays of drinks.

Paxine didn’t know if Judge Schumauker was a good or bad person, but she did know she didn’t like him.

“Someone’s trying to make the best out of the remainder of the evening,” Garon said, noticing Judge Schumauker too.

“I think we still have a problem,” Paxine said, feeling Tache complaining about the noise, and he wasn’t meaning the music.