Orange Tabby Apocalypse

Maya's brain felt like a zombie's — mushy, half-alive, definitely not functioning on all cylinders. Three hours of TikTok scrolling will do that to you. She groaned, rolling over in bed. Saturday night, and she was ghosting her friends' group chat again.

"You good?" Jenna had texted three hours ago. "Party at Tyler's. Everyone's going."

Maya's thumb hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to go. She also wanted to dissolve into her mattress and never be perceived again. The eternal struggle.

Then something brushed against her window.

A cat. An orange tabby, pressing its face against the glass like it owned the place. Maya blinked. She lived on the second floor.

She opened the window. The cat trotted in like it had an appointment, tail held high, orange fur glowing in the lamplight. It jumped onto her bed and stared at her phone.

"You judging me?" Maya asked. "At least I'm not outside at 11 PM like some zombie cat."

The cat meowed. It had a collar. A tiny orange rectangle dangled from it.

Maya squinted. "No way."

She gently lifted the tag. An address. Three houses down.

The cat padded to her door and waited.

"You want me to... what? Follow you?"

The cat meowed again, louder this time.

"Okay, but if this is some horror movie situation and you're actually a familiar leading me to my doom, I'm haunting you forever."

They crept down the stairs. Maya's parents were asleep. The front door creaked — she froze, heart hammering. The cat waited, tail flicking.

Outside, the air was crisp. October leaves crunched under her sneakers. The orange cat trotted ahead, pausing to look back like, are you coming or what?

Three houses down, lights blazed from the garage. Music thumped. People laughe—

Wait.

She knew that garage.

Tyler's house.

The cat slipped through the open garage door like a ninja. Maya hesitated at the driveway, her social anxiety flaring. She should go back. She wasn't ready. She'd just stand there awkwardly and —

The cat appeared in the doorway, meowing at her.

Jenna spotted her first. "Maya! Finally!"

Tyler waved her over. "Hey, you made it!"

The orange cat wound through legs, receiving head scratches from everyone like it was the guest of honor. Maya stood frozen for one more second. Then she stepped inside.

The cat hopped onto a box amp, curled into a perfect orange circle, and fell asleep.

"That's Barnaby," Tyler said. "He basically runs this party."

Maya smiled. Some of the zombie fog in her brain lifted. "Yeah. I think he does."