Frizz and Found

I'd been a total spy for three weeks straight. Not the cool, action-movie kind with gadgets and leather jackets—more like the awkward-girl-hiding-behind-her-phone-pretending-to-text kind. I'd mastered the art of watching Jake from across the cafeteria without making eye contact, which was basically an Olympic sport in my book.

Then came the day my hair decided to stage a mutiny. I'd spent forty-five minutes flat-ironing it into submission, but the moment I stepped outside, humidity hit like a personal attack. My bangs poofed. The rest followed. By the time I spotted Jake near the gym doors, I looked like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket.

Then I noticed what he was actually doing: crouched behind the dumpster, talking to something.

My spy instincts kicked in. I crept closer, trying to look casual despite my hair resembling a question mark. Jake was petting a scraggly calico cat—the one everyone said was feral—and slipping it what looked like turkey from his lunch.

"You gonna narc on me?" he said without looking up.

I jumped. "What? No. I mean—"

He turned, and I froze. His eyes were red-rimmed. "She showed up right after my mom left. Some days she's the only thing that makes sense."

The cat wound around his legs like it owned him. I thought about all the time I'd spent watching Jake, building him up in my head as this perfect, untouchable guy. Meanwhile, he'd been out here, every day, feeding a stray cat he probably couldn't even keep.

"Her name's Pickles," I said, sitting on the concrete beside him.

He laughed—actually laughed. "That's terrible."

"I'm terrible at names."

"You're also terrible at spying."

Lightning cracked overhead, and we both jumped. The first fat drops of rain hit the pavement as Jake scooped up Pickles and looked at me, really looked at me, my frizzy hair and all.

"Wanna help me get her to my car before we both drown?"

I'd spent all semester trying to be someone I wasn't. Funny how it took a cat, a storm, and the boy I thought I had to impress to show me I could just be me.