Orange Cat Lightning

My life basically ended when my mom got called into work right before the regional padel championships. I'd been training for months, and now I was stuck housesitting for Mrs. Henderson—meaning I was literally watching her ancient orange cat, Lightning, sleep for three hours straight.

"You're joking, right," I muttered to the cat, who opened one yellow eye and then went back to napping on his ridiculous velvet pillow. "I'm missing juniors semifinals for THIS."

The worst part? Tyler from my history class was gonna be there. We'd been flirting for weeks, and I'd promised to finally watch him play. Instead, I was stuck in Mrs. Henderson's apartment that smelled like potpourri and old lady while my phone buzzed with texts from the group chat.

Then Lightning—the cat, not my mood—suddenly bolted upright, ears perked. Before I could process what was happening, this geriatric furball was sprinting toward the open balcony door like he'd suddenly remembered he had somewhere to be.

"NOPE," I yelled, already running after him.

We both tumbled onto the tiny balcony just as the sky opened up—like, actually opened up. Lightning flashed everywhere (pun fully intended) and rain poured down in sheets. The cat sat there, completely unbothered, staring at me with his weirdly judgmental orange face like *this* was all somehow my fault.

And then I saw it—Mrs. Henderson's neighbor's padel court below, illuminated by another flash of lightning. Someone was down there playing. Alone. In a storm.

Tyler.

He wasn't at the championships either. He was here, hitting balls against the wall in the rain like a total drama queen. And suddenly I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe—because OF COURSE the universe had set up this perfectly absurd moment.

I grabbed the cat (who was surprisingly chill about being manhandled) and made a split-second decision. I grabbed my padel bag from inside, called my mom that I'd meet her later, and sprinted down the stairs.

"You're insane," Tyler said when I appeared at the court, soaking wet, with an orange cat under one arm and a padel racquet in the other.

"Takes one to know one," I shot back, setting Lightning on the bench. "Wanna play?"

We played until the rain stopped. The cat watched from the bench like a tiny, furry referee. I missed the championships, Tyler and I didn't win regionals, and I ruined my favorite sneakers.

But that rainy padel session with a boy I liked and a judgmental orange cat? Turns out that was the real win all along.