nes turn on ahead of us,
and there seems to be some sign of hope. I stick my head out the window to
see if things are moving. Something furry tickles my ear, and it takes me
a second to register.

Then I grab, but too late. There is Cat, out on the parkway between the
lanes of cars, trying to figure which way to run.

"Pop!" I yell. "Hold it! Cat's got out!"

You know what my pop does? He laughs.

"Hold it, my eyeball!" he says. "I've been holding it for half an hour.
I'd get murdered if I tried to stop now. Besides, I don't want to chase
that cat every day of my vacation."

I don't even stop to think. I just open the car door and jump. The car's
only barely moving. I can see Cat on the grass at the edge of the parkway.
The cars in the next lane blast their horns, but I slip through and grab
Cat.

I hear Mom scream, "Davey!"

Our car is twenty feet ahead, now, in the center lane, and there's no way
Pop can turn off. The cars are picking up speed. I holler to Mom as loud
as I can, "I'll go back and stay with Kate! Don't worry!"

I hear Pop shout about something, but I can't hear what. Pretty soon the
car is out of sight. I look down at Cat and say, "There goes our
vacation." I wonder if I'll be able to catch a bus out to Connecticut
later. Meanwhile, there's the little problem of getting back into the
city. I'm standing alongside the parkway, with railroad tracks and the
Pelham golf course on the other side of me, and a good long walk to the
subway.

A cat isn't handy to walk with. He keeps trying to get down. If you
squeeze him to hang on, he just tries harder. You have to keep juggling
him, like, gently. I sweat along back, with the sun in my eyes, and people
in cars on the parkway pointing me out to their children as a local
curiosity.

One place the bulrushes and marsh grass beside the road grow up higher
than your head. What a place for a kids' hideout, I think. Almost the next
step, I hear kids' voices, whispering and shushing each other.

Their voices follow along beside me, but inside the curtain of rushes,
where I can't see them. I hear one say, "Lookit the sissy with the pussy!"
Another answers, "Let's dump 'em in the river!"

I try to walk faster, but I figure if I run they'll chase me for sure. I
walk along, juggling Cat, trying to pretend I don't notice them. I see a
drawbridge up ahead, and I sure hope there's a cop or watchman on it.

The kids break out of the rushes behind me, and there's