The Cat Who Saved My Social Life

The water shut-off notice was taped to my apartment building's entrance like a middle finger from the universe. Great. Just great. I was already sweating about Jordan's pool party this weekend—the first actual social event I'd been invited to since moving to this school three months ago—and now I had to figure out how to wash my hair with bottled water like some kind of post-apocalyptic survivalist.

"Honey, don't forget your vitamin gummies!" Mom's voice echoed through our tiny apartment as I shoved the neon bottle into my backpack, mortified that I still took chewable multivitamins shaped like cartoon bears at fifteen. Jordan's friends probably drank protein shakes and talked about crypto and whatever else cool people did.

I slipped out the back door with my secret mission: water for the cat. A scrawny tabby with one ear that never fully unfolded had been living in the alley behind our building since I moved here. We had a strict no-pets policy, and Mom was allergic anyway, but this cat—okay, I named him Loki—was the only thing that made this new city feel like home.

He was waiting by the overturned flowerpot where I left food, meowing like he owned the place. I poured water from my Poland Spring into his battered bowl, watching him drink like he'd been wandering the desert for days.

"You're lucky, you know," I whispered, scratching behind his good ear. "Nobody expects you to be cool. Nobody cares if you say something awkward. You just exist and it's enough."

Loki purred so hard his whole body vibrated against my leg, and something in my chest loosened. I'd spent weeks trying to craft the perfect persona for Jordan's party—researching their friend group on Instagram, memorizing TikTok trends, even practicing casual responses in my mirror. But Loki just was. Unapologetically himself.

The weekend came. I showed up at Jordan's with my vitamin gummies still in my pocket (old habits) and introduced myself without any practiced lines. When someone made a joke I didn't understand, I asked them to explain it instead of fake-laughing. When the conversation turned to swimming, I admitted I was terrible at it.

"Hey, we can teach you," Jordan said, like it was no big deal.

Monday morning, I detoured through the alley with an extra water bottle for Loki. The water was back on in our building, but some things you don't stop doing just because you don't have to anymore.