Hairless Cat Summer
I was dying. Like, actual social death. Standing at the edge of the pool in my cousin's backyard, holding Nebula — my aunt's hairless sphinx cat like she was some kind of furry (well, NOT furry) shield against my own awkwardness.
Everyone was in the pool. Everyone cool, anyway. The popular kids from school, laughing and splashing like they owned the water. Meanwhile, I was on dry land in swim trunks that suddenly felt way too short, clutching a wrinkly cat like my life depended on it.
"Yo, is that... is that a cat or an alien?" Jason called out. He was the kind of guy who said 'yo' unironically and somehow made it sound natural.
"She's a sphinx," I said, my voice cracking. Great. Just great. "Hairless."
Nebula chose that moment to let out a sound like a dying toaster. Someone laughed. I felt my face heat up.
Then Maya — Maya, who sat behind me in bio and whose notes I'd been secretly admiring since September — Maya climbed out of the pool. She was wet hair dripping, sunglasses pushed up on her head, looking like she belonged in a music video.
"She's adorable," she said, reaching out to scratch Nebula behind her giant ears. "My sister has one. They're like little pot-bellied pigs that purr."
She looked at me. Actually looked at me. "You play padel?"
"Huh?"
"Padel. Tennis but with walls. There's a court at the rec center. I need a partner for this tournament thing next weekend." She tilted her head, studying me like I was one of those sphinx riddles. "You seem like you'd be good at it."
"I... I've never played."
"Perfect." She grinned. "I'll teach you. Same time tomorrow?"
My heart was doing cartwheels. "Yeah. Yeah, totally."
Later that night, lying in bed and replaying every cringey moment of the party, I realized something: sometimes the worst moments — standing alone at a pool, holding a naked cat, being literally the driest person at a summer party — sometimes those moments become the start of something real.
Nebula purred on my pillow like she knew all along. Little sphinx, big plans.