The Cat Who Knew Everything

Maya's summer job at the museum was basically just watching tourists take selfies with the Egyptian exhibit, which was fine until That Friday — the one with Jordan Prescott in her AP Euro class, who was somehow even more gorgeous when he wasn't ignoring her existence.

The sphinx statue had been there forever, but today a sleek black cat had camped out beside it like it owned the place. Cats did that sometimes — wandered in from the sculpture garden outside, acted like they belonged in a museum.

"Cool cat," Jordan said, actually talking to her.

Maya panicked. "Yeah, she's the sphinx's backup dancer."

Wow. Actual words that came out of her mouth.

Jordan laughed though, and okay, maybe that was worth it.

Outside, the sky went apocalyptic — lightning streaking across the window like someone had ripped the atmosphere apart. The security guard herded everyone into the back hall while the alarms blared, something about the storm knocking out power to the climate control.

The cat was still sitting by the sphinx, unconcerned. Maya couldn't just leave it there, so she scooped it up (it purred, unbothered) and bolted for the emergency exit, heart hammering like she'd done something illegal instead of heroic.

She ran through the rain, cat tucked against her chest, water plastering her hair to her face, laughing because what even was her life sometimes.

Jordan caught up with her under the museum awning, soaking wet and grinning like this was the best thing that had happened all summer.

"You saved the backup dancer," he said.

"Someone had to," Maya replied, and realized she wasn't invisible anymore. Not to him, not to herself.

The cat wriggled free and darted toward the parking lot like it had places to be. Some creatures were just too wild to be kept, and maybe that was okay. Some things you just had to let run, and trust they'd find where they belonged.