Zenon's Game Chapter 135

Bad sportsmanship aside, Zenon played well. He didn't look like he was trying that much, which surprised me. He's usually so focused.

I really wanted to stay to celebrate with them, but I had to get to the mall. My job was not lenient about lateness. I managed to hug Zenon before I left him surrounded by his friends.

The volume of the crowd died down as I left the courts and headed to my car. I sent Zenon another congratulatory text with a dozen emojis.

I started the engine up and that's when I saw Joe running around the parking lot. He wasn't wearing his suspenders today but was in baggy gray tracksuits and a t-shirt.

I rolled down my car window and waved. "What are you doing, Joe?"

"I'm exercising," he answered, jogging at an incredibly slow place.

He didn't need to say more. He wanted to run while everyone else was tied up inside. We had track and field, but he didn't want to run in a more public setting.

"OK, see you at mathlete practice on Wednesday," I said.

I had only ten minutes to get to the mall, so I really had to speed up.

White vinegar, dish soap and bleach were the three items I picked up from the mall after work.

Roger the cat's blood was still a red blotch on my carpet and I desperately wanted to remove it. How could I move on with the constant reminder of a crime scene at my bedroom door?

At home, I scrubbed the mixture of vinegar and dish soap into the stain and tried to remove it. My hands reddened from the chafing.

"Candace! Are you up there?" my mom yelled up, "Don't come down! I have a man coming around and I don't want him to see you!"

I hear about moms who want to protect their kids by hiding their boyfriends until they were sure... it's the other way round here at casa Turner. I embarrass my own mom and she's made that very clear to me.

I sighed and tried not to let emotions get in the way of the task at hand. I scrubbed more aggressively, desperate to remove the stain. It's a reminder that someone hated me.

Music penetrated my thoughts, preventing me from descending into a dark place.

I realized that the music was coming from outside. I got up, feeling the ache in my knees, and stepped over the bucket of dish soap. I dropped the cloth and walked to the open window in my bedroom.

It overlooks the Albert house. The sound of music got louder. I looked down and gasped.

Zenon was standing like out of a movie, with his hand stretched up in the air. He held up an iphone that was playing music.

He stood in black tracksuits with his gym kit swung over his shoulders. His head was bowed down, looking at the ground, and all I saw of his handsome face was his messy, black hair.

"Zenon?"

He looked up. I felt like this was a movie scene remake... without the boombox or the Phil Collins song...

Open up the dirty window

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

He was playing the Natasha Bedingfield song I had played in the locker room before the game.

Zenon asked, "So are you going to come down?" he pointed at his raised arm, "This is my shooting arm."

So it was tired after the basketball game...

I was about to run downstairs when I heard him say, "And you can forget your pyjamas again."

I solemnly said, "We are all gathered here today to mourn the loss of an innocent soul."

The sun was shining over the funeral and we had picked a secluded area by a lemon tree.

I unfolded my crumpled piece of paper and read out loud:

"Never again will the world hear you purr,

No one can undo the days that were,

Though we best remember your gentle spirit and golden fur."

Axel mumbled, "Where Jake at?"

My cheeks blushed at the memory of Jake's song. I folded my English homework and slipped it back into my pocket. Unlike Jake, I can't make my rhymes sound good with an angelic voice and guitar strings.

"We meet here to honor and pay tribute to the life of Roger the cat. We want to bring comfort to his friends who are here and have been deeply hurt by his sudden death."

"Candace," Bryce interrupted, standing patiently, "We don't know this cat."

"And when we find out who the owner is, we're going to have to dig it up," Cynthia pointed out.

I had filled her in on the whole incident, except for the backstory of the threatening letters. She'd insisted on attending the funeral.

"Let me repeat myself," Bryce cleared his throat, "We don't know this cat. It's a cat, people."

Zenon elbowed him and he fell silent.

In the quiet that followed, I continued, "We never had the privilege of knowing Roger in his lifetime, but I want to apologize to him. For whatever reason, his death was used as a means to intimidate us."

It's a scary but true thought - we are partly responsible. Someone hated me, Zenon and Art enough to slaughter a cat as a hostile signal. It's our duty to give Roger a respectful farewell.

"Axel," I nodded to him.

Axel stepped forward and chucked some rose petals over the shallow grave.

"Anyone have any words they wish to share?" I asked the small congregation.

"Quick words," Bryce corrected, "My date is waiting by the car and I told her this would be fast."

I still couldn't believe that Bryce brought a girl to a cat's funeral on the way to their first date. But then again, it's Bryce.