"Andre Norton - Star Ka'at 01 - Star Ka'at" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

"Tiro." Jim said the word aloud. It did not sound like a name; but once
more the cat rumbled, as if he were pleased with Jim. The boy was as sure
that Tiro was the cat's name, as if the animal himself had said it. Though
how could he have known?

"I'm Jim," he said, feeling a little odd as he introduced himself to a cat.
"Jim Evans. And I'm staying with the Dales." He jerked a thumb over his
shoulder towards the fence he had just crawled through. "I'm—they took
me in 'cause I'm a foster child. My Mom and Dad—" There was a sudden
lump in his throat which he could not fight. His hands doubled into fists,
and he beat them into the plaster-whitened dust beyond his knees. "The
court says I got to live with them—here."

Tiro was listening—and understanding, too. Jim could not say why he
knew this or how. But it was so. And suddenly something broke, perhaps
that knot in his throat, the hard feeling in his chest that had been there so
long. Jim was crying and he did not care. Now Tiro moved, coming
straight to him. One white-tipped paw rested on Jim's knee, and through
that touch the boy could feel a vibration. He dropped his hand on Tiro's
head. Now he could hear as well as feel—the cat was not rumbling, he was
purring. And that purr carried with it feelings of sympathy that Jim could
accept, while the best-meant words he had listened to these past weeks
had only been words he did not want to hear.

The purr went on and on. Now soft fur rubbed against Jim as the big
cat pressed closer to him. The boy wiped his hand across his eyes,
smearing the dust on his cheeks. He felt empty, but somehow better than
he had since they had told him the news about the plane crash.

"I—I like you!" Jim said shyly. He hugged the cat close. Tiro set both
front paws together on Jim's chest and reached up to touch noses with the
boy.

"Scat, Skoo, What'll I do—do—do"

Jim and Tiro both turned their heads. There was a little figure
hip-hopping from the back alley into the waste land where Jim had taken
refuge. Dirty old sneakers much too large, tied on with pieces of string,
were flopping with each hop. Above those were skinny, dark brown legs.
Ragged shorts of faded red clothed the upper part of those knobby-kneed
legs. The shorts, in turn, were hidden by folds of a dirty Tee shirt. There
was a much-faded emblem on the front of that, and what had once been
long sleeves had been hacked off, their edges left to ravel. They covered
very thin arms showing elbjows as sharp as the knees.

"Skit, Scat, Skoo, the Devil take you—"

The newcomer was a girl. Her small head was covered by wiry black
braids and surrounded a face in which large eyes were divided by a button