The Cat Behind Home Plate

I felt like someone was watching me. Not in a creepy way, but in that way where you catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye, and when you turn, nothing's there.

I was already spiraling about everything - freshman year at a new school, trying out for the baseball team, the way my hands shook when I changed in the locker room, wondering if anyone else noticed the way I noticed them. The last thing I needed was to feel like I was being spy-ed on during practice.

Then I saw the cat.

It was this scraggly gray tabby that kept showing up at the baseball field, always sitting behind home plate like it was scouting the opposition. Every time I looked up from pitching, those amber eyes were locked on me.

"You again," I muttered after practice, wiping sweat from my forehead.

The cat meowed. Which would've been normal, except it sounded weirdly like a greeting.

That's when I noticed him - a guy from the team, sitting two rows up in the bleachers, phone in hand. Not watching me. Watching the cat through his screen, like he was filming it.

Our eyes met. My stomach did that thing it does when you're thirteen and everything feels terrifying and electric at the same time.

"That's your cat?" I called up, trying to sound casual.

He laughed, and it was this sound that made me want to hear it again. "No, he just shows up. I've been tracking his patterns for, like, three weeks. I think he lives under the concession stand."

"You're spying on a cat?"

"Documenting," he corrected, hopping down from the bleachers. "There's a difference. I'm Leo, by the way."

"Marcus."

The cat wound between our legs, purring like a tiny motor. I stood there with my baseball glove still on my hand, dirt on my uniform, feeling like I'd just stumbled into something I didn't know I was looking for.

"Hey," Leo said, "you want to help me figure out where he actually lives? I've got a theory about the equipment shed."

I looked at the cat, then at Leo, then at my empty water bottle. "Yeah," I heard myself say. "Yeah, I do."

Sometimes the things you think are watching you are just waiting for you to notice them back.