Goodnight, Kadoatie

     Sure; he was barely more than a child, so that technically wasn’t a very long time from an outsider’s perspective, but it felt like quite a very long time indeed to young Clove.

     In reality, it quite likely started when he was just a baby Wocky. He had never liked the dark, but he would often feel embarrassed about sleeping with the lights on. Whenever his mother would see the embarrassment get to him, she would give him a reassuring smile and pull out his Petpet picture book, rereading his favourite page about how Kadoaties wail endlessly when the lights are out. He had always dreamed that one day, he would get his own Petpet Kadoatie, and then he would have an excuse to keep the lights on.

     And today was finally the day. After days of pressing his face into the Petpet Shop in the hopes of seeing a Kadoatie for sale, the owner had finally taken pity on him and offered him a job helping out around the store. He had spent the last few weeks sweeping and mopping and feeding and cleaning (and claw-dodging, occasionally) but today was it: Payday.

     Clove barely paused to chew his breakfast, hardly noticing the cereal spilt through the kitchen in his wake before he bolted out the door and ran to the Petpet shop.

     “Good morning Vicki how are you is my paycheck ready!” he nearly yelled in his excitement, bouncing excitedly from paw to paw.

     Vicki, the kind Usul shopkeeper, laughed warmly. “Good morning, Clove. I’m well, thank you. I assume you’re here for this?” she brandished an envelope out of her apron.

     Clove wasn’t sure what was more beautiful; the sight of his name printed across the front, or the sweet sound of coins clinking against each other as she pulled the slip out. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he cried, politely holding out both little paws for her to gently place the envelope in. His face lit up with unmatched glee as he counted the coins – he had never held this much money before. At least, not since his mum asked him to pick up lunch for the family and he came home instead with a blue Kadoatie hoodie (in his defence, lunch would have only been for 20 minutes, but he still wore that hoodie even now, years later; surely, it was a better investment).

     Vicki fought a smile at the young Wocky’s joy. “So, do you have any plans for that money? Invest in some stocks, start a retirement fund?” she teased.

     Clove blinked at her, wondering what language she was speaking. “Um, no thank you. Actually, I was wondering if we had any Kadoaties in stock?”

     The smile quickly disappeared from Vicki’s face instantly. “Oh, no,” she muttered.

     Suddenly, a crowd of people appeared, fighting over each other to get through the doors.

     “Kadoatie?”

     “Did someone say Kadoatie?”

     “Where’s the Kad?”

     Dozens of voices yelled over each other as would-be customers waved fistfuls of cash in front of Vicki’s face, others going straight for the Petpet enclosures and frantically looking behind every water bowl or scratching tower in search of the rumoured critter.

     “Sorry,” he mumbled with his tail tucked sheepishly between his legs as Vicki fought to regain control of the shop.

     Once she had shooed most of the frenzied crowd away, she turned back to Clove with a sad look on her face. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too, Clove, but you know we don’t have any Ka–”

     There was a sudden thunk as someone pressed their face against the glass, reading Vicki’s lips carefully as if they were just daring her to give them another cue to come rushing in.

     She took a deep breath and started again. “You know we don’t have any in stock right now.”

     “But can’t you order one in for me? Or tell me when we get more?” Clove asked, bottom lip quivering.

     Vicki gave the top of his head a sweet pat. “You know that’s against the rules, Clove.”

     He sighed and nodded. “It’s okay. I’ll try the Shop Wizard.” And with that, he turned and walked out of the door, giving Vicki no opportunity to warn him about what he was walking into.

     -

     “HAH!” the Shop Wizard roared, a deep belly laugh that shook every hair on his little body like an earthquake. “A Kadoatie? In the shops? HAH!”

     “Yes, please.” Clove blinked up at him expectantly.

     The Wizard’s laughter sputtered to a halt when he realized that the young Wocky was not joking. “Oh, are…is this…oh, dear. You’re quite serious, yes?”

     “Any colour is fine,” Clove said brightly.

     “Listen, sport, I admire your optimism, but I’m afraid there are no Kadoaties in any shop in Neopia. I can get you a hundred Greedy Kadoatie Piggy Banks or Blue Kadoatie Music Boxes, but if you’re looking for a living, breathing Petpet, I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” the Wizard explained.

     Clove thought this over, then nodded sadly. “I understand. Anyone lucky enough to have a Kadoatie would never want to sell them or give them away.”

     “Er…sure?” the Wizard stuttered. “Listen, I’m not supposed to send customers elsewhere, but…you seem like a nice boy. Kadoaties are far too expensive to be kept in shops; try the Trading Post. Last I heard, they were going for about 65 million.”

     “Thank you, mister Wiz–AAA!” Clove choked. “Million? MILLION? Is that even a real number?” he cried, pulling out his beloved paycheck envelope and clumsily pawing through his own Neopoints.

     The Wizard peered into Clove’s envelope with a frown. “It’s real; real far from what you’ve got there.”

     -

     Clove spent the afternoon sadly kicking pebbles around Neopia Central feeling rather quite sorry for himself and so distraught that he barely noticed the sound of mewling Kadoaties in the air. At first, he imagined that it was a hallucination his brain had created just to taunt him, but eventually, he clued in that the Kadoatery was not far off. Perhaps a little peek in at his old friends would cheer him up, he decided.

     There was a bustle of activity around the Kadoatery – clearly, the Kads were hungry, and swarms of people fought for the opportunity just to feed the cute little critters. Clove gently scooted his way to the front, finding a Kadoatie named Pookie who had already been fed. Pookie mewled happily, nuzzling against the bars of the cage in an invitation for Clove to pet him (an invitation which Clove was happy to accept).

     “You’re so lucky. You don’t have to worry about having enough Neopoints. Whatever you want, people will give you. Even if they’re not your owner, they’ll all buy you whatever you want,” he said pitifully.

     “Mew,” Pookie responded insightfully.

     Clove froze, suddenly struck by inspiration. “Wait, you’ll be hungry again soon, right? So everyone will be back again before long? I have an idea!” Clove stood up so quickly he saw stars.

     Pookie whined, quite upset to be so suddenly deprived of his pats and scritches.

     “I’ll be right back. Don’t let your friends get hungry without me!”

     -

     Sure enough, Clove returned before long with his blue Kadoatie hoodie, his now-empty envelope, and a spare Petpet cage from Vicki’s. He arrived just in time to hear the Kadoaties begin to mewl, and saw the eager crowd of Kad feeders begin to appear. Brandishing a pen from his pocket, he scrawled a quick addition on his envelope then stuck it on the cage door before climbing inside, mimicking his neighbours’ mews wholeheartedly.

     Generous Kadoatie feeders swarmed the cages, each fighting to get a request off to the Shop Wizard before anyone else could return. It didn’t take long before a kindly Scorchio peered into the strange-looking cage stuck haphazardly next to the regular enclosure, looking puzzled yet excited.

     “Oh, look! They must be expanding; they’ve added an extra cage!” she cried happily. “What’s your name, little one?”

     “Mew,” Clove offered rather convincingly.

     The Scorchio inspected the informational plate on his cage – or, rather, the expertly-doctored envelope he had repurposed. “Well hello, Clove. And what do you want me to get you?”

     “Mew!” Clove repeated, with greater urgency this time.

     A sudden ear-splitting scream broke out, and it took Clove a second to realize it had come from the same Scorchio in front of him. “Oh, my word!!!”

     This caught the attention of a few concerned passers-by, who rushed over to comfort the Scorchio as she collapsed to the ground, suddenly pale. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” asked a sweet old Pteri.

     “Th…this must be some kind of awful joke,” the Scorchio whimpered.

     “What happened?” the Pteri pressed.

     With a trembling finger, the Scorchio pointed to the sign on Clove’s borrowed cage. “It says…he wants to eat another Kadoatie!”

     The Pteri blinked a few times in confusion. “Well…that would explain why he’s so much bigger than the others,” she offered lamely.

     The Scorchio fainted.

     -

     “What were you thinking?” asked Clove’s mum, taking his hand firmly in hers as they walked out of the Kadoatery.

     “I’m sorry, Mum; I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Clove frowned.

     His mum sighed heavily. “You’re lucky the nice people at the Kadoatery let you off with just a warning.”

     Clove crinkled his nose. “I’d be luckier if I had a Kadoatie.”

     “Clove,” his mother warned.

     “I’m sorry! I’m really, really, really sorry. I donated my whole paycheck to the Kadoatery, and I promised them I would go over every week for 3 months to volunteer and help clean cages, like I do at the Petpet shop.”

     Clove’s mother paused. “Yes, it was very good of you to offer to help even when you didn’t have to,” she agreed finally.

     Still, Clove sulked, the guilt clear on his face.

     “Listen, Clove, what you did was wrong. But it was very mature and responsible of you to step up and try to fix things even after they had let you off the hook. And I heard from Vicki just how hard you worked for that money, so I know how much it must have meant to you.”

     “Yeah, it did,” Clove agreed sadly.

     “What I’m trying to say is, even though you made one mistake today – a bigger mistake than I would have liked – I’m proud of you.” Clove’s mum began rifling through her purse before producing a small box wrapped in silver paper. “It’s not much, but I bought you something to celebrate your first real payday.”

     Forgetting all his previous sadness at the sight of the shiny wrapping paper, Clove eagerly picked up the box and tore through the package. “A Kadoatie nightlight?!?”

     “I know it’s not the same as a real Kadoatie, but this way, you don’t have to be scared of sleeping in the dark, and you don’t have to ask me to leave the lights on.”

     Clove’s eyes began to water and his chin quivered. “Muuuuuum…” he whined.

     “I can take it back if it’s a bad reminder–” she began.

     He quickly interrupted her with the tightest hug he had ever given anyone. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

     And that night, he slept sweetly and soundly with his little Kadoatie nightlight; neither one of them cried in the dark.

     The End.