Cat & Cleats

Marcus stood at the plate, cleats digging into the dirt, feeling like a total zombie. Third night in a row studying for AP Chem until 2 AM, and now Coach Davis expected him to crush it at baseball tryouts. No pressure, just his entire social life hanging in the balance.

"Batter up!"

He swung. Missed. The ball hit the catcher's mitt with a sound like betrayal. Somewhere, someone laughed. Probably Tyler, whose perfect hair remained perfect even during athletics.

After practice, Marcus slipped behind the dugout to avoid Tyler's post-game analysis. That's when he saw it—a scrawny calico cat curled on his backpack, fur matted with dirt and who knows what else.

"Seriously?"

The cat opened one yellow eye, unimpressed.

Marcus should have left it. Had homework. Had to figure out how to survive varsity tryouts without embarrassing himself into social exile. Instead, he sat, and somehow ended up sharing his protein bar with a cat who looked like it'd seen things.

"You're a mess," he told it. "Same."

The cat—now officially Pancake, don't ask—started showing up every practice. Marcus spent more time sneaking kibble behind the equipment shed than actually improving his swing. Tyler noticed, of course.

"Dude, you're talking to a cat. You're literally turning into a zombie person."

"Better than being a Tyler person."

Okay, Marcus didn't say that out loud. But he thought it. Hard.

Game day came. Marcus was benched, obviously. But Pancake appeared at the fence, yowling like she'd personally invested in the outcome. When Tyler struck out in the ninth inning, leaving two runners on base, Coach actually looked at Marcus.

"You're up."

The walk to the plate felt like floating. Pancake screamed. Marcus swung, connected—solid, perfect contact. The ball sailed over Tyler's head in center field.

Safe at first. The crowd went wild.

Afterward, Marcus found Pancake waiting by the bike rack. She headbutted his shin like she'd been planning this all along.

"We're not zombies anymore," he whispered, carrying her home in his equipment bag. "We're players."

His mom would kill him. But that was a problem for tomorrow's Marcus. Today's Marcus had a cat, a hit, and finally something real to hold onto.