Sphinx Cat at the Deep End

The chlorine smell hit me before I even reached the rec center. Tryouts for the swim team. Again. Because my mom thinks forced aquatic humiliation builds character or whatever.

I hated swimming. Hated the way water shoved itself up my nose, hated how my arms turned to noodles after two laps, hated that Jessica—the actual goddess of sophomore year—could butterfly stroke like she was part dolphin while I flailed like a dying fish.

"You're up, Marcos," Coach Miller barked.

I stood on the diving board, knees literally shaking. Everyone watching. Jessica watching. This was fine. Everything was fine.

Then I saw it.

A hairless cat sitting on the edge of the pool, staring at me with these ancient, judgmental eyes. It looked exactly like a sphinx—wrinkly, regal, completely unimpressed by my existential crisis.

"That's Mr. Wiggles," some freshman whispered. "He just shows up sometimes."

The sphinx cat meowed. It sounded like a complaint.

I dove.

Okay, "dove" is generous. I performed a controlled descent into aquatic chaos, immediately swallowing half the pool. Somewhere between the surface and my doom, I remembered my lunch: that disgusting spinach smoothie my health-obsistant aunt made me drink. It churned in my stomach like a toxic green sludge demon.

I resurfaced, spluttering, spinach burps threatening to escape. The sphinx cat was still there. Still judging.

"You okay, Marcos?" Jessica asked. She wasn't mocking. She was... concerned?

"Never been better," I choked out.

The cat approached the edge and dipped its paw in the water, testing it like it was deciding whether I was worth saving. Then it actually touched my wet hand with its dry, wrinkly head.

"Mr. Wiggles never likes anyone," the freshman said, amazed.

Jessica laughed. Not mean laughter. Real laughter. "Okay, that's actually iconic."

I pulled myself out of the pool, spinach aftertaste and all, dripping wet but feeling something weirdly like confidence. The sphinx cat bumped my hand again.

"So," Jessica said, grinning. "Wanna get smoothies after? Actual ones this time. No spinach."

"Absolutely," I said.

Mr. Wiggles purred like he'd planned everything.