The Cat Who Knew Everything

Maya's cat, Pumpkin, sat on her windowsill judging her outfit choice. Again. The orange tabby had been giving her side-eye since seventh grade started, like she knew exactly how awkward everything was about to get.

"You don't have to go to school, Pumpkin," Maya sighed, adjusting her oversized hoodie for the third time. "You just sleep and judge people. Must be nice."

Pumpkin meowed dismissively.

At school, the cafeteria social pyramid loomed like it always did — seniors at the top, then juniors, and everyone else scrambling somewhere below. Maya had spent last year clinging to the middle with her best friend, Jada, secure in their shared obsession with K-pop and mutual hatred of gym class.

But Jada had changed over the summer. New hair, new friends from cheerleading, new everything except barely acknowledging Maya in the halls anymore.

"Hey, Maya!" Jada waved from a table three spots higher on the pyramid than last year. She was sitting with Chloe, whose Instagram stories were basically a documentary of having the most perfect life ever. "We're doing a group project for history. Want in?"

Maya's stomach did that weird fluttery thing. "What's the project?"

"Ancient Egypt. We're building a pyramid model."

Pumpkin would've rolled her eyes if she were there. But Maya said yes, because sometimes you say yes to things that might hurt, just to see if maybe — just maybe — they won't.

After school, Chloe's house was basically a museum. Everything matched. Even the cat lounging on the velvet sofa looked expensive, not like Pumpkin, who still had a piece of tape stuck to her fur from last Halloween.

"So," Chloe said, pulling out glitter and gold paint. "Jada said you're basically an artist?"

Maya shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I draw stuff."

"Perfect. You can handle the hieroglyphics."

For three hours, they worked on that ridiculous pyramid. Jada and Chloe discussed homecoming and how Tyler from math class was literally obsessed with Chloe now, and Maya painted tiny symbols while missing her old friend so much it physically hurt.

Then Jada's phone buzzed. Her face fell.

"Everything okay?" Maya asked, before she could stop herself.

Jada bit her lip. "My grandma's in the hospital again."

The room went quiet. Chloe looked awkward, like she wasn't signed up for real problems.

"I'm sorry," Maya said softly. "That sucks. Like, really sucks."

Jada looked up, and for the first time since school started, she actually saw Maya. "Yeah. It does."

That night, Maya lay in bed with Pumpkin purring against her chest. The pyramid project wasn't finished. Jada was still different. Everything was still weird.

But as Pumpkin kneaded her paws into Maya's favorite hoodie, Maya realized something: things change, but that doesn't mean they have to break completely. Sometimes you rebuild on new ground.

And sometimes your friend — the one who knew you before everything changed — finds her way back to you, even if it's from three levels up on the social pyramid.

"You were right," Maya whispered to Pumpkin. "Middle school is literally the weirdest."