Courtside Cat

The padel court at the rec center smelled like rubber and desperation—exactly how I felt. My first time playing, thanks to Leo dragging me out of the house because 'social skills, bro, you need them.'

'I'm gonna be terrible at this,' I muttered, gripping the rental racket like it might bite.

'That's the spirit,' Leo grinned, already bouncing on his toes like he'd been born holding a racket.

Our opponents were Jordan and Mia—basically royalty in our grade. Jordan moved like lightning across the court, all confidence and cool. I felt like a cat in a dog park, ears back, wondering why I'd agreed to this humiliation.

First serve came at me hard. I swung, missed entirely, and nearly faceplanted.

'Nice swing, Einstein,' Jordan called out. The laugh caught in his throat.

Then my phone buzzed in my bag. Mom had sent a picture: our elderly cat, Pancake, somehow balancing on top of the refrigerator, staring down judgmentally at the world. That cat survived getting hit by a car last winter and lost an eye. Now she lived like she had nothing left to prove.

Something clicked. Pancake wouldn't care if she looked stupid playing padel. Pancake would just do it anyway.

Next ball came. I didn't overthink it. Just swung—and connected. The ball sailed past Jordan's outstretched arm, hitting the back wall with a satisfying THWACK.

'What the—' Jordan blinked.

'Getting lucky,' I said, but my hands weren't shaking anymore.

We lost the match, obviously. But afterward, when we hit the pool, Leo and I jumped in fully clothed while the others dipped their toes in cautiously. The water felt like forgiveness, cool and washing everything away.

'Tomorrow,' Leo said, paddling backward. 'Same time?'

'Yeah,' I said, already imagining Pancake's one-eyed stare. 'Why not?'

Sometimes the bull in the china shop isn't the problem—sometimes the china shop just needs to remember it's been through worse and came out fine.