Poolside Padel Panic

The pool shimmered like liquid blue Topaz, and somewhere in its depths, my dignity was probably doing laps.

"You coming in or what?" Chloe called, already doing that effortless hair-flip thing that made everyone stare. She'd been my best friend since kindergarten, but ever since freshman year, she'd been upgrading her social currency like it was a full-time job.

"In a minute," I lied, adjusting my swimsuit for the fiftieth time. The problem wasn't the water — it was the padel court next to it, where Lucas's crowd was playing. Padel was this racquet sport that had appeared out of nowhere and suddenly determined who mattered at Ridgeview High. Play well, and you were athletic and sophisticated. Suck at it, and you were basically invisible.

I'd spent three weeks practicing serves against my garage wall, but the moment Lucas waved at me from the court, my brain turned to static.

"Maya! We need a fourth!" He grinned, all golden retriever energy and dimples. "You play, right?"

Chloe shot me a look that said *please don't embarrass me.*

"Uh, yeah, totally," I heard myself say. Because apparently my mouth had a death wish.

I grabbed a racquet, my palms already sweating. The first serve sailed past me. The second hit my own shin. The third — I don't even want to talk about the third.

"Whoa there," Lucas laughed, but not meanly. "You're overthinking it. Here —"

And then, out of nowhere, this orange tabby cat came strolling along the fence line like it owned the place. It sat down and started aggressively licking its paw, completely unimpressed by our teenage angst.

"Is that... Mr. Henderson's cat?" someone asked.

The cat stopped mid-lick, locked eyes with me, and let out the most judgmental meow I'd ever heard.

Something about that look — that absolute *really, this is what you're stressed about?* energy — snapped me out of it. I was letting a sport with a ball smaller than my fist determine my worth?

"Okay," I said, surprising myself. "Reset."

I served. Not perfectly, but solidly. Lucas returned. We rallied. For like, thirty whole seconds. And when I finally missed, I laughed — actually laughed — instead of spiraling.

"Better," Lucas nodded, like he meant it.

"Yeah," I said, grinning at the cat, who was now asleep in a patch of sunlight. "Way better."

Later, Chloe would tell me I'd been "lowkey legendary" today. But honestly? I just wanted to know where I could get a cat that effective at reality checks.