Sooty
As the first edge of sun appeared over the horizon, Airlie leapt out of bed and grabbed her clothes. The sun was still only a thin slither as she raced down the stairs. She could hear Mum in the kitchen, but it was her 11th birthday and her eyes fixated on a box wrapped in birthday paper and tied with a pink ribbon.
The box had holes punched in the top.
Airlie picked it up gently, the weight shifting awkwardly with a scrabble of claws. A sudden flash startled her, followed by “Gotcha!” and a plaintive meow.
Airlie managed to set the box down again without too much of a bump, and the box went quiet for a moment before the meowing resumed in earnest. She glared at her brother who smirked right back at her, saying. “You know you’re not allowed to open your presents till we are all at the table.”
But soon they were all seated, except for an excited Airlie with a meowing box on her chair. Dad smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, Airlie! I think you’ll need to open that one first. It’s from all of us!”
Airlie hadn’t even managed to get the lid off before two black paws appeared, and then two golden orbs alongside a charcoal nose.
They looked at each other for a long moment, before Airlie reached out to pick up the kitten and cuddled it to her chest, stroking the silky fur and burying her nose into the nutmeggy scent.
“What’s her name?”
“His name is up to you,” Mum answered.
“Up-to-you is a funny name,” quipped Peter, but Airlie ignored him.
“His name is Sooty!”
Sooty looked up for a moment as if to consider the name, and seemed to nod approvingly before burrowing back into Airlie’s arms.
Even though Airlie’s other presents were great, including a new Brain Computer Interface kit she’d asked for, somehow Sooty seemed to take all the attention.
🐈⬛
Looking after a kitten was more work than Airlie had expected, but just as much fun. Sooty would hide in all sorts of places and keep track of who went where.
Everyone but Dad said, “I thought I saw a Sooty cat,” every time they spotted her… but mostly they didn’t. Though quickly Airlie learnt to pretend not to notice him, because if he thought he hadn’t been seen he’d leap out as she went past. Then he’d race on ahead till she went past again, follow for a while, then race ahead and hide again.
That’s when Dad would say “Airlie had a little cat whose fur was black as soot”, and Airlie would respond “And everywhere that I go his sooty foot he puts.” Dad always complained that she didn’t get that right, that the rhyme and rhythm were wrong, but Airlie had learned about this at school and said that she was a first person not a third person, and present thank you very much.
But in reality, Airlie always knew where Sooty was, and Sooty knew she knew… and the other way round too. He also seemed to know exactly where she was heading, and would make sure he got there first — suitably hidden of course.
Sooty’s favourite spot was the window ledge in the sun. Of course, exactly which window that was depended on the time of day. Airlie thought that he’d like school too, but Dad said the Mary had a little lamb song proved there was a rule against that, although Airlie checked and there wasn’t one in the official school rules.
So Sooty waited on the front window ledge, leaping off and racing to the door to greet her after school; and Airlie gave Sooty private lessons once they’d had something to eat and adjourned to her room (as Dad liked to put it).
🐈⬛
Then came the day of the theft.
Airlie and her friends, Yan and Lily had just got back to homeroom when she found that her pencil case was missing: the one with the shiny black cat stickers on it. Then Lily squealed, saying her ruler was missing. Almost everyone had something missing, and Mr Rodgers said that just because someone hadn’t noticed anything missing didn’t mean they were the thief. He made everyone take everything out of their bags and put in on the desk so that he could see they didn’t have anything with anyone else’s name on it.
Airlie had so much in her bag that she wasn’t sure it would all fit on her desk, and some of it she hadn’t even remembered being there, and of course she had no idea if anything else was missing.
After a certain amount of borrowing of pens and pencils and things, Mr Rodgers eventually managed to shift his very upset class into what ended up being a rather short maths lesson, but he promised that he would follow up on the thefts with the principal.
Airlie couldn’t help sobbing as she told Mum and Dad about it after school, even though Mum said not to worry, it was only a few dollars, and they could get a new one at the shops tomorrow, and some more cat stickers and coloured pencils and everything. But Airlie insisted it wouldn’t be the same, commenting in a serious voice, “It’s not the dollar value but the centy mental value that’s important.”
Sooty tried to take her mind off it too. After all, she had a real black kitten. Wasn’t that better than black cat stickers?
🐈⬛
Sooty listened very carefully to Airlie, and made encouraging noises as she thought back through her day. Somehow having Sooty on her lap and caressing her seemed to sharpen her memories.
After eating their lunch, she and Lily and Yan had been skipping rope in the playground, and one time when it was her turn, she remembered a boy coming from the direction of her classroom. As they concentrated, the recollection seemed to sharpen and from the corner of her eye, Airlie could actually see him slip out of the classroom and pull the door to, as he caught her attention. She didn’t know his name, but thought he was a year six student.
But what to do? Should she say something to somebody?
Peter was in year six: perhaps he knew the kid?
As if in response to her question, she heard Peter arrive home from cricket practice. She raced down and perched on her chair as Mum brought him his afternoon tea.
“Did you hear about the thefts today?” Airlie asked.
“Today, no… But on Monday most of our class was missing something, but I didn’t seem to have lost anything. Although today I couldn’t find my lucky cricket ball. Why? Do you know something about it?”
“Maybe… We had thefts from our bags at lunchtime today, and almost all of us were missing something.”
“Wow! That’s just like what happened to us on Monday. Did you lose anything?”
“My pencil case with the cat stickers was stolen, but Mum’s taking me to the shops tomorrow to replace everything… I think I may have seen who did it…”
“Who?”
“A boy in your year… I don’t know his name, but he has light brown hair and is a bit chunky.”
“Oh! That sounds like it might be Chunky,” Peter suggested. “It’s almost too perfect that you use that word to describe him though.”
“Yes indeed,” Mum said from the kitchen doorway. “You can’t just make accusations. You should tell your teachers exactly what you saw, and if you can really recognize the boy — you Airlie, not Peter — then they can deal with it appropriately. Teachers can’t make accusations either, but could arrange to check other classes’ bags if it happens again.”
🐈⬛
Airlie worried all night about what she would say to Mr Rodgers. But in the end, it was pretty painless.
“Mr Rodgers, can I talk to you for a couple of minutes before class?” Airlie tried to keep her voice light but serious.
“Certainly, why don’t we go into the classroom and we can talk while I get ready for class?” Mr Rodgers unlocked the door and let her in.
“Why isn’t the classroom locked at lunchtime, and in the breaks?” Airlie asked thoughtfully. “We’re not allowed to stay in the classroom unless it’s wet.”
“Strictly speaking you aren’t meant to be there, but in practice students often need to get to their bag to get a drink or put their lunchbox away. But that might change if the thefts continue.”
“My brother told me that something similar happened in his homeroom.”
“Yes, ours was the second incident. Did you brother have anything stolen?”
“Maybe a cricket ball… But he didn’t notice it at the time, so it wasn’t reported.”
“So why are you talking to me?” Mr Rodgers queried with a raise of his eyebrow.
“Because I think I might have seen who did it. Last night I recalled someone who looked like he might have come out of our homeroom.” Airlie said carefully.
“So where were you and what exactly did you see.”
“I was skipping with my friends on the west lawn and noticed something out of the corner of me eye. I saw a chunky boy with light brown hair coming from direction of our homeroom, and I think he might have been in the classroom. I think what attracted my attention was him coming out of the room and pulling the door closed.”
“Did you recognize who it was?”
“I thought I recognized him as a year 6 boy, but don’t know his name. Though my brother thinks he might know him. But my mum says I should just say what I saw and nothing more.”
“Wise advice… If you do see him again, go to the teacher on playground duty and point him out. I’ll make sure the staff are all aware that we have a suspect.”
🐈⬛
For the next few days, Airlie was careful to keep an eye on where the duty staff member was as well as trying to be aware of the other classrooms. It seemed unlikely that he’d try for Peter’s or hers again, at least not so soon. The teachers also seemed to be keeping a bit of an eye on her and never wandered too far away.
Thursday lunchtime, she was in the air above the rope when she caught sight of someone coming out of a year 5 classroom. She stumbled a bit as she landed, twisting her ankle slightly.
“Sorry!” Airlie yelped to her surprised friends, as she hobbled over to the teacher on duty, Miss Lee.
Airlie deliberately didn’t look straight at the chunky boy but rather at the teacher. “The boy I saw the other day is just coming from the year 5 classrooms. He came out of the one on the left.”
Miss Lee swept her gaze around the playground, without lingering on the boy. “I see him. Why don’t you sit down and rest your foot? You should go and see the school nurse if it’s a problem. Don’t walk on it unsupported.”
Airlie sat down on the nearest bench and rubbed her ankle. It was a bit swollen, she thought. Lily and Yan came and sat next to her.
“Is it bad?” Lily asked. Airlie shook her head.
“Did Miss Lee say you should go to the office and get a bandage?” Yan asked. Airlie nodded, and her two friends helped her across the playground.
As they limped into the office, one of the office staff came over to help, and got her seated in a comfy chair with her foot elevated on a stool. After a quick round of explanations, she addressed Yan and Lily: “Thanks for helping girls. There’s no need to wait. The bell’s about to go and you should get to class. The nurse is looking after someone else right at the moment, but won’t be long.”
The bell went while they were filling in some forms, noting details about the incident and excusing her from class while it was dealt with.
Just as they finished, a skinny boy emerged from the clinic bringing a scent of antiseptic and sporting large bandaids on his left elbow and over his left eyebrow. “Tennis ball soccer,” he mumbled to her without meeting her eyes.”
“I hope the tennis ball got what it deserved,” Airlie whispered to his back. He hesitated a moment, but didn’t turn around.
As the nurse ushered Airlie in, a breathless runner came in reporting another theft — from a year 5 homeroom. As the door was closed behind her, Airlie closed her eyes and stretched her senses to hear the details: they were going to get all the year 5 and year 6 students to turn out their bags.
Airlie was just coming out of the infirmary, testing out her ankle with its supporting bandage, when the office door opened and Chunky was marched in by a teacher, who threw down a bag. “Is the principal around? I have an update on the robberies. Everything that was taken today seems to be in this bag, plus several things from the earlier robberies.”
From the corner of her eye, Airlie noted the principal and the vice-principal emerge from their offices, but her focus was on the bag as she approached. “Theft not robbery,” she murmured. “There was no violence involved.”
Then at full volume she continued, pointing into the bag, “But that’s my pencil case with the black cat stickers.”
Chunky seemed to shrivel under Airlie’s glare.
🐈⬛
A ball raced across the playground followed by a horde of boys. Sooty tensed in her lap, as if ready to pounce, but Airlie stroked him firmly from head to tail as she rewound the scene in her mind.
She had seen the boy from sickbay, but he wasn’t playing soccer: he’d just put his lunch wrapper in the bin and been blindsided as the game swerved out of its ill-defined boundaries.
Dad had an ‘eidetic’ memory that allowed him to see and describe things in detail even though he’d only glimpsed them for a fraction of a second. He said it was much stronger when he was a boy, but still he could describe scenes from his youth with photographic detail, and could visualize the exact page of a book he’d read years ago and tell you exactly where on the page a particular word was. He could do that for things he’d read recently too, or even with just a quick skim of the newspaper.
He just looked for words or pictures of interest, knowing he could review the details at leisure if he was interested.
What Airlie was doing seemed to be different: it wasn’t just a photographic memory of a scene or a page. It wasn’t even just that she could page back and forth like in a book, or rewind and fast-forward like a video. Somehow, she could adjust her perspective too, see things better from a different point of view. Dad said that was ‘reconstruction’, and Mum said that almost all our memories were actually reconstructions and amalgamations based on a bit of detailed information about the particular event and a lot of experience of similar events.
As Dad was a neuroscience professor and Mum was a practising psychologist, they should know what they were talking about. But Airlie wasn’t convinced by their explanations.
