AN: Wrote this for a friend’s birthday. She likes to meow, hence, this story. It’s not top notch stuff, since I wanted to get it done before June 22, so read at your own risk. It’s written solely for my friend’s entertainment, so beware of clichés, clichés, and clichés.

I may edit later.

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Dedication: To one of my favoritest people in the entire world. Thank you for 7 years and counting of listening to me rant and rave and be unreasonable. Happy birthday. ((heart))

PUSSY

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Kitty Mao Cu hated her name with a passion like no other. She didn’t just despise one part of it, she despised all three. Her English name, Kitty, had been a direct translation from what her mother liked to call her at home, Mao. No, not Chairman Mao – although she had to fend off more than her share of jokes on that one in AP History. It was the feline Mao. It literally meant cat.

Chinese people were weird like that. They had no qualms naming their children Wind, Flower, Cloud, Table, or Stone. Kitty didn’t mind this. It was in the language and unique to the culture. What Kitty minded was that Chinese parents thought it was also okay to translate these directly into English.

And thus, she became Kitty Mao Cu.

Not to be racist, but why was it okay for a Caucasian girl to be named Kitty? Kitty Jacobson. Kitty Bellmont. Kitty Griffin. They all sounded fine. Why was it lame on a Chinese girl? Why?

Hello Kitty, Kitty Cat, Here kitty kitty, she’d heard them all more than enough times to last her three lifetimes. Some people even decided that they could just forget speaking English all together and meow at her. Was she supposed to respond? Or meow back? And when people scratched her behind the ears, did they really expect her to purr?

This was all bearable though. She was a tough girl, after all.

Oh, but there was more. There was always more. Her final year of high school had been the last straw.

It had happened at Commencement, when over five hundred students and thousands of friends, family, and pets were present in the large Grande Bay Theatre. As each name was called up, their graduation picture was displayed on two large panel screens on both sides of the stage. Large, as in huge. They spanned from dirt to ceiling, just so any blind grandparents would also be able to recognize their kin. The two screens were connected at the top by a large, subtitle screen, stretching from one end of the stage to the other. This was where the names would be displayed.

They would call in alphabetical order. Your name, then a short blurb your parents wrote about you, and finally, name any awards you received.

“Kitty Mao Cu,” the principle had said into the microphone, “Kitty is a good daughter and student. She has made us proud. Wishing you success in your future endeavors.”

Her father had written that. Ha. It didn’t surprise her that he had put “good daughter” in there. How very Chinese. Everything else had come straight from the ‘Example’ they had given on the fill-in-your-blurb sheet.

“Kitty has also been offered a 20,000 dollar scholarship to Stanford University.”

That had given her a little bit of satisfaction. She had achieved the Chinese stereotype standard, and she was damn proud of it.

So, what went wrong?

People started to laugh. At first, it was a few titters and giggles. It then evolved into nervous laughter. Soon though, like the yawning syndrome, everyone was roaring like they were at a comedy club rather than a graduation ceremony.

Kitty had been confused. What was so funny about getting into Stanford? Was it the parental blurb? Surely, it couldn’t have been. Many other Asian parents had used the ‘Example’ template, too.

It wasn’t until after the ceremony that she found out.

Her best friend had run over to her at a speed previously unknown to man and told her.

On the subtitle screen, her name had been displayed Kitty CuM.

Kitty didn’t believe for one second that it had been a typo. No one, no one, could have been stupid enough to accidentally type Kitty CuM. instead of Kitty M. Cu. How exactly does one’s fingers slip and miss the shift key in combination with the letter M and period key and slip yet again to put it at the end of Cu?

Typo, her ass.

Kitty could only conclude from this that the various friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents of the graduating class were a sick-minded lot.

Her parents had, of course, been oblivious to the humor. They laughed along, enjoying the ride, thinking that their daughter must be very popular and very well-liked in her school.

Ten years from now, she may laugh at this. But it had only been two months, so she still had every right to be miffed.

Miffed. She liked that word. It was the puppy version of pissed.

Not for long though. Not for long…

Kitty was getting her name changed. Right now, somewhere in the government service bureau office was pending request for Kitty Mao Cu’s death. Soon she would be Melissa Cu. It was so generic it was wonderful.

That had been two weeks ago, only a week before she had moved into her dorm, suite E04A.

However, in those short fourteen days, something had happened to make Kitty realize that she didn’t want to change her name after all.

This something had come in the form of Kenneth Montgomery. Tall, built, and exceptionally good looking, he possessed every trait Kitty despised in the opposite sex. He was the type of guy who could play the player, a cocky smooth-talking snake.

He was, unfortunately, also her neighbor. E04B.

So he was hot, big deal. So hot that whenever she was near him, her skin felt like it was burning. Big deal.

He had an ass of a personality to make up for it. So sure of himself that she seethed in silence just thinking about it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was only here because ‘papa’ decided to donate a new wing to the university.

The first time he’d heard her name, he had smiled like he suddenly knew something about her that no one else knew, like he knew what kind of panties she was wearing or some other dirty little secret.

Kitty had given him the look of death, daring him to make fun of it.

She had hated him the moment she laid eyes on him. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he did everything. They all hit the wrong nerves, pushed the wrong buttons. Her left eye ticked constantly in his presence.

Even the way his sleep-tousled black hair said I-just-woke-from-a-night-of-hot-sex made her gnash her teeth.

Oh, but sweet, sweet irony always had its way.

It had been a Wednesday, a seemingly harmless day of the week.

Kitty had felt frustrated, restless, and moody from seven in the morning. Nineteen and a half hours later, all the negative feelings had only escalated. It was just one of those days where she felt like everything was going wrong and that her life was in a ditch.

She missed home. She didn’t get along with her roommates. She had lost yet another pencil case with all her stationary crap. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. In high school, she had a goal; make her parents proud and get into Stanford. But now that she was here, she suddenly had nothing to work toward anymore. She didn’t even know what she wanted the major in, much less start a career in. No goals, no ambition, no love. Her life was a dud.

No hope. No hope.

God, did she ever feel like a wimp, crying alone in her room at 2:30 in the morning, especially when there was really no concrete reason to be feeling this way. So many people would kill to be where she was right now.

So Kitty grabbed a jacket and went out to clear her head.

The small patch of woodland a little ways away from the dormitory sure looked more enticing at night than it did in the day.

She didn’t know how long she walked for. It was only when she came to a small clearing that she checked her watch. 3:00am.

The witching hour.

And lo and behold, the moon was full.

Kitty breathed in long and deep, holding a hand up to her face. Her cheeks were chafed from the wind, and still a little sticky from tears. No doubt her nose was still swollen and red. She was an ugly crier, and had been reminded of it on numerous occasions throughout her life.

It took her a full thirty seconds to realize that she was not alone.

There he was, in all his glory, sitting on the hood of his rich-kid sports car, not ten feet away. Kitty’s knowledge of cars ended at the adjectives ‘red’ and ‘fancy,’ but damn, it was sexy. Like owner, like car.

They saw each other at the same time. The eye-contact jolted through her, making her skin tingle.

He, of course, gave her that slow I-know-what-your-panties-look-like grin. She knew he knew what she was feeling, and it made her angry. Very angry.

Kitty itched for a good fight. She’d been miserable all day and the last thing she needed was to have her peace invaded by this specimen of scum.

Even so, Kitty wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to be baited. Nothing would annoy a bully more than apathy, and that was exactly what she was going to give him.

Turning her heels, she walked back the way she came.

His soft tsk-tsk followed her in the night air, stopping her in her tracks.

The temptation to turn around and give him a piece of her mind made her entire body ache.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

They seemed like eons.

Kitty bit her tongue and gave in.

He gave her a look that said he was imagining her hot, sweaty, and naked, and then crooked his finger at her.

Three words. Three little words.

But when Kitty heard them, she fell, and she fell hard.

“Come here, Pussy.”

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