True (. . . Sort Of) by Katherine Hannigan Page B

She got up to go.
    â€œRowwwwwr,” the cat yowled at her.
    Delly spun around. Teeth bared, she snarled, “You laughing at me?”
    Ferris Boyd and the cat were at the edge of the woods. They weren’t laughing, though. They were waiting.
    â€œYou . . .”—the rasp cracked—“you waiting for me ?”
    The cat’s tail flicked twice, and the feeling bad vanished.
    â€œAll right then.” Delly grinned and trotted to them. Together they walked into the woods.
    In the dark Delly remembered: soon Ferris Boyd and the cat would disappear. Maybe they’ll sublimate me, too, she thought, so she stayed close.
    They came to the big tree and stopped. Delly got ready for some smoke, maybe a small explosion.
    The cat went to the other side of the tree and was gone.
    Ferris Boyd went next and didn’t come back.
    â€œHey,” Delly called, and followed. She walked all the way around the tree.
    But there was nothing left of those two, not even a tiny puff of smoke.
    â€œWhat the glub?” she muttered.
    â€œMowr.” The cat laughed.
    â€œWhere are you?” she shouted.
    â€œMAOH,” it yowled.
    Delly looked up. They were staring down at her through the leaves. They weren’t ghosts or gas.
    â€œHow’d you get up there?”
    A pale, skinny hand pointed to the trunk.
    Finally, Delly saw it. Chunks of wood were nailed to the side of the tree. They looked like big hunks of bark. “It’s a bawlgram ladder,” she exclaimed.
    She started up it. Step by step, she entered the green till it surrounded her. Birds called from close by; squirrels ran along limbs as if they were roads.
    Way up, boards were nailed to the branches so they made a floor. Delly pulled herself onto it.
    And she was in a room, with leaf walls and a leaf ceiling. A railing ran around the outside of it. Ferris Boyd crouched in a corner, with a book against her chest. The cat sat beside her.
    The other world was gone. The tree held them, like a giant green cocoon.
    â€œOh, Ferris Boyd,” Delly whispered, “you got a hideawaysis.”
    The girl’s eyes were wondering.
    â€œIt’s your special secret place,” she explained.
    Ferris Boyd nodded. She knew.
    The sun shone through the leaves, making them glow like jewels. The breeze shook them, so they danced.
    Delly stood and turned slowly. There was plenty of room to spread out. “You could eat here,” she announced.
    There was shade and shelter. “You could sleep here,” she said.
    She saw all that space far from everything bad and hard. “You could live here,” she breathed.
    She kept turning and talking. “You’d never be in trouble, because it’s your place. Nobody could make fun of you, because you’re in charge.”
    She had to stop. Something about the hideawaysis made her heart ache, like she’d been missing it forever. “Chizzle,” she sighed, and sat down.
    Then Delly was quiet, because there weren’t words for what she was feeling. She’d just got a whole new world, because Ferris Boyd had shared it.
    At five o’clock she heard the whistle from the other world. “I got to go,” she said sadly.
    â€œOuch, ouch, ouch!” she yelped as she climbed down the ladder. The question paper wouldn’t let her leave.
    She climbed back again. “Ferris Boyd . . .” She started, but she couldn’t finish. It was the hardest question yet, because she wanted it more than anything.
    The paper pinched it out of her, though. “Can I please come back?”
    Ferris Boyd glanced at the cat.
    The cat stared at Delly.
    It’s over, Delly figured, if the bawlgram cat decides. She waited for one thump, No!, from its tail.
    Instead, the cat flicked it twice, Okay, and closed its eyes.
    â€œAll right then,” Delly rasped, holding the happiness in.
    She scampered down the tree. She waited till she was at the bridge to shout,