The Cat Who Knew Everything

Maya pressed her phone against her window, watching the party across the street like a total spy. Not, like, a creepy spy—more like a socially invisible one. She'd been crushing on Alex since seventh period English started three weeks ago, and tonight, FINALLY, his parents were out of town.

"You're being pathetic," she muttered to herself, but her fingers didn't stop scrolling through Instagram stories that showed Alex's living room glowing with fairy lights and way too many sophomores.

A crack of **lightning** split the sky, followed by thunder that rattled her window frame. The weather app had warned about storms, but nobody cancelled parties for a little rain. Maya's phone dinged—a text from her neighbor: "Can you check on Mr. Whiskers? We're stuck in traffic."

Mr. Whiskers was the kind of **cat** who acted personally offended by human existence. Maya found him cowering under the neighbor's porch, yowling like he'd been betrayed by the universe. Another lightning flash made him bolt, and Maya spent ten minutes chasing his orange butt through suburban backyards before finally tackling him behind a bush.

She emerged with muddy knees, a terrified cat, and zero dignity. AND Alex was walking out of his house, right toward her.

"Is that... Mr. Whiskers?" Alex asked, grinning. "Dude, he hates everyone. How'd you catch him?"

"I speak fluent cat," Maya said before she could stop herself. Alex laughed—not a polite laugh, but like, actually laughed.

"Wanna come inside?" Alex asked. "My friends are kind of basic, but we've got snacks."

Inside, nobody made Maya feel like an outsider. She played beer pong with juice boxes, helped someone's little sister with homework, and spent two hours talking to Alex about everything from climate change to why Mr. Whiskers was probably a supervillain. The cat, now curled on Alex's couch like he owned the place, kept giving Maya approving looks.

"You know," Alex said as thunder rolled overhead, "I'm glad your neighbor got stuck in traffic."

"Me too," Maya said, and meant it. Sometimes the best nights aren't the ones you plan. Sometimes they're the ones where a cat decides to run away and you accidentally crash the party you've been watching from your window like a weirdo, and it turns out nobody's actually judging you.

Except Mr. Whiskers. He was definitely judging. But that was fine.