The Maloneys' Magical Weatherbox Read Online Free PDF Page A

sight.
    â€œOwen!”
    â€œIt’s OK!” Owen said, walking forward, hands up and out. “We won’t hurt you! It’s OK! Sssssshhhhh.”
    â€œOWEN!” I was screaming now. The cat crouched down low, mouth open wide, and slid straight at Owen, who reached up and tickled it under the chin.
    â€œThere,” he said. “There. It’s OK. There.”
    The cat tilted its head and closed its mouth, and Owen scratched behind its ear—an ear he could have walked into without bending over. The cat was sitting now, its tail waving, its eyes half closed, surprised and suspicious, but willing to be scratched. Owen kept whispering and hushing. He put his arms around its neck and buried his face in its fur.
    Then things got weird, because the cat was suddenly in Owen’s arms, his face still buried in its neck, but now it was the size of a normal cat, a tabby housecat. It was resting in Owen’s arms, purring contentedly.
    â€œHe’s hungry,” Owen said. “I want to go home and give him something to eat.”
    â€œHe was going to eat us !” I yelled.
    â€œWell, he’s not now,” Owen said, and walked off, carrying the cat.
    I looked around. The truck doors were swinging gently on their hinges. There was no sign of the old ladies. My arm was sore. Every part of me was sore. My head swam and my knees shook, so I put the arrow away and the bow on my shoulder and followed Owen.
    We went back to the house. Mum and Dad and Neil and the Tourist were all standing on the path in front of the door. They seemed to be having some sort of argument. Mum saw Owen and the cat first, because they were ahead of me.
    â€œWhat the hell is that?” she groaned.
    â€œIt’s a cat,” said Owen with a bright, happy smile. “His name is Neetch!”
    â€œIt’s a magic cat,” I said, coming up behind him. “It was in the back of a truck down by the old barn. It was really, really big, and then it got small. There were two old women there, too. I think they might be living in the woods.”
    â€œLiz!” exclaimed Mum. “Oh my God, are you OK?”
    â€œWhat happened?” Dad asked. “Did you fall?”
    â€œThere was a ditch,” I said. “And some nettles and things. And I want to sit down now please.”
    â€œHoly Moses,” Neil said. “Liz, was it—”
    â€œA ditch,” I repeated firmly.
    â€œSo,” said the Tourist with a nervous laugh, holding his hands in front of him, his fingers wriggling together like fat worms dancing, his face pale and sweaty, his eyes wide. “You, uh, met the ladies and the bog beast, did you? And, ah, is everything OK? Nobody hurt too badly, I hope? Nobody … turned into anything? Er … or … was eaten?”
    I glared at him, but Mum and Dad ushered me indoors and Owen went off to find a can of salmon for the stupid cat and Neil followed, looking thoughtful and worried. The Tourist stood outlined in the doorway, his arms by his sides, his hands in fists, staring out at the trees, his face serious, his eyes narrowed. Then I was pushed into the living room and down onto the sofa, and creams and hot chocolate were applied, and Mum and Dad told me I was an idiot, but they smiled when they said it.

 
    CHAPTER 5
    NEIL
    By the time Liz and Owen ran up, looking like they’d been fighting in a war and having amazing adventures rescuing cats from trees or whatever, we’d been standing on the path arguing for about ten minutes after the Tourist asked which of us was the Weatherman.
    â€œUh,” Dad had said. “What?”
    â€œWeatherman!” The Tourist had rolled out of the doorway toward Dad, arms spread wide, the delighted smile on his face making his beard dance and twitch. “Can I just say what a pleasure and an honor it is to be here, and what a rare privilege it is to watch you work—a master craftsman and his