Footprints of a Bandit
When we got home from breakfast, I tried to stay out of Dad’s sight. Mom got busy mopping up juice and water, and Dad trashed the microwave and dumped out the Pop Tarts. They spent most of the morning wiping the black stuff off the countertops and cabinet doors. I offered to help, but Dad said, “I think you’ve done enough already. We’ll take care of it!” Fine, I thought. I hate cleaning anyway.
I headed upstairs to call Megan and Allison to make plans. I assumed I wasn’t grounded because nothing was said about it. There was kind of a smoky smell in my room, so I opened the window so the cool morning breeze could suck the smoke out. My curtains were moving gently in the breeze blowing into my room. Our cat Bandit was curled up on the floor by the window, purring quietly. We call him Bandit because it looks like he has a mask across his eyes, Anyway, he must have thought that the curtains were some kind of toy and chased back and forth trying to catch them. His claws caught in the fabric, and he started to fight it. Then he was yowling. I grabbed for him, lost my bal...