Ava and Taco Cat Read Online Free PDF Page B

shake off her shyness.
    Well, everyone got to meet my new cat—but not in the way I was hoping.
    I’d pictured Taco taking turns climbing onto their laps, purring and kneading. Kneading is what cats do when they press their little paws against you one at a time, left and right, right and left. Mom said that newborn kittens knead and purr when they nurse because that’s how they tell their mother to stay still. Grown cats knead and purr mostly when they are relaxed and happy.
    Taco did not knead or purr at all.
    What happened was this: We all stood by the bathroom door. Bea and Pip were on tiptoe, Maybelle and I were in the middle, and the twins were crouching down (dressed in matching yellow). The plan was for me to open the door a crack so everyone could peek at Taco, asleep on the bathmat. I did—but Taco dashed out! He made a beeline (cat line?) for the sofa! And he’s been hiding underneath it ever since!
    All anyone saw was a flash of fur!
    Before I could stop them, Carmen and Lucia raced after him and got on their stomachs and started groping under the sofa. Not only did Taco not come out, he hissed at them! He even grumble-growled! It was a strange, low, unhappy sound.
    Mom said we needed to let him get comfortable on his own terms. She also said that adult cats don’t meow to other cats, they meow only to people, usually to “ask for food or water or space.”
    Well, we let Taco have some space while I opened birthday presents. Maybelle gave me a rainbow-colored beaded bracelet that she’d made just for me. The twins gave me a gold picture frame (which I like) and a fuzzy pink jewelry box (which I don’t). Bea gave me a book of funny cat photographs from her parents’ shop. Pip gave me a scarf. And everyone sang, “Happy Birthday!” and ate pizza and cake.
    Now that I’m eleven, I wonder if I seem a lot older than the twins, who are in fourth grade. I also wonder if I seem a lot younger than Bea and Pip, who are in seventh. Am I growing up at the right speed?
    I can hardly believe I’m eleven. I won’t be a palindrome age again until I’m twenty-two!
    Ava Wren, Birthday Girl

1/2 (which looks like one-half
but means January 2)
Saturday 11:30 a.m.
Dear Diary,
    This morning Pip and I were playing Battleship. I was trying to locate her submarine and said, “B-7?”
    She said, “BELIEVE.”
    I said, “BEWARE!”
    She said, “BEHOLD!”
    I said, “BEHAVE!”
    She said, “BEEHIVE!”
    We both laughed, and she said, “Ava, come with me to Bates Books.”
    I said I wanted to stay with Taco. But Pip pleaded—and even offered me a pack of bubblemint gum. I knew she was hoping to run into Ben since Bea and Ben’s parents own the bookstore and Pip hadn’t seen him since vacation started. Finally I said okay—if we made it quick.
    We bundled up and off we went, but Ben wasn’t there and neither was Bea. Their fluffy orange and white cat, Meow Meow, was, and he rubbed against us, his tail high in the air. He is as sweet as a…Creamsicle!
    Guess who else was there? Chuck! He looked different because he’d gotten a haircut and maybe gotten a little taller since last week? (Is that possible?) He also had a Band-Aid under his chin—the tan kind, not the cartoon character kind.
    Mrs. Bates was helping him find a book about a boxer. She’s good at helping kids pick out books. When Chuck saw me, he came over, so Mrs. Bates started helping Pip instead. She was telling her about some “new YA paperbacks.” YA stands for young adult. (Confession: I don’t think of Pip as a Young Adult. I think of her as a Big Kid.)
    Well, I told Chuck about our new cat, and he told me a joke:
    Question: Why did ten cats jump off a bridge?
    Answer: They were copycats.
    He expected me to laugh, but I said, “That’s not funny. That’s sad.” I was picturing a soggy bunch of forlorn