Bella's Arc

Chapter 7 of 13

The next morning, Marella kissed Bella's head and left for work. The door clicked shut. Bella jumped down from her cushion on the clock and padded toward the kitchen for breakfast. She stopped short. Something was different about her bowl. The shiny steel dish gleamed in its usual spot. But beside it, one tiny brown crumb of jerky sat like a polite hello. Bella's whiskers twitched. Another crumb waited a paw's length away. Then another. A neat trail of jerky bits curved across the carpet, each piece placed with care, leading straight toward the corner of the room. Bella's tail stiffened. The trail ended at the small door at the base of the clock. There, the twins had built a tiny pile of jerky, stacked into a careful little heap. A gift. Or bait. Bella crouched low. Her ears flattened, then lifted, then flattened again. Friendship, said the neat little crumbs. Trap, said her wounded pride. She remembered the giggling behind the baseboard. She remembered the waving paws behind the door. They always knew what she would do. They were laughing now. She could feel it. Bella made her choice. She would not follow. She would not eat one crumb. She turned her back on the trail, walked stiffly to her cushion on top of the clock, and curled up with her nose tucked under her tail. Let them watch. Let them wait. She would not be moved by snacks. But as she settled, a small sound rose from inside the wood beneath her — not a giggle this time. A soft, surprised sigh. Two of them. Disappointed. Bella's eyes opened wide in the dim morning light. For the first time, she had refused their game. And for the first time, she had no idea what they would try next.