The Catfish Who Wasn't

Maya's iphone had become an extension of her hand, practically glued to her palm during seventh period when Mr. Henderson wasn't looking. That's when she saw it—Lila's post from Friday night. The party Maya hadn't been invited to. Again.

"You're literally spying on her at this point," said Jordan, sliding into the cafeteria seat beside her. "That's sixth time this week, bestie."

"I'm not spying," Maya lied, thumbs hovering over the screen. "I'm just... staying informed."

Jordan rolled their eyes so hard it looked painful. "You're stalking. There's a difference. Also, your cat is judgmental today."

Indeed, Maya's elderly cat, Pickles, sat on her bed at home right now, probably judging everyone through the Ring camera Maya had installed after watching too many true crime documentaries. Being alone in the house while her mom worked double shifts had made her paranoid. She checked the camera constantly, convinced someone would break in or, more realistically, that she'd miss a package delivery.

But that's how she saw it—Lila, standing on her front porch at 3 AM Saturday. Not just standing there. Lila was messing with something on the doorframe. Maya's heart hammered. Lila knew where she lived? Lila, the girl whose entire existence seemed perfect, whose hair always looked effortless, who was currently dating the sophomore Maya had been secretly crushing on since orientation?

Maya's fingers shook as she zoomed in. Lila wasn't casing the place. She was—no way. She was taping something to the door. A note?

The spy footage showed Lila linger for a second, looking nervous, actually human-nervous, before disappearing into the darkness.

"I have to go," Maya told Jordan, grabbing her backpack.

"What? Why? Lunch is literally—"

"Emergency. Family stuff."

She sprinted the three blocks home, heart doing that weird fluttery thing it did when she stayed up too late drinking energy drinks. The note was still there, slightly wrinkled from morning dew. Folded into a tiny perfect square.

Inside: "I know you saw my story about the party. I wanted to invite you, I swear. But my friends are kind of terrible sometimes and I didn't want you to feel awkward. But I keep wanting to talk to you in biology and I chicken out every time. So this is weird. I'm weird. Sorry. – L"

Maya stared at her handwriting—surprisingly messy, surprisingly normal. Then she noticed something else at the bottom, drawn in gel pen: a tiny cat. A terrible drawing of a cat.

Pickles, judging everyone from the Ring feed, chose that moment to meow loudly on camera.

Maya grabbed her iphone and typed: "Come over? My cat is creepy but I make decent hot chocolate."

Three minutes later: "I thought you'd never ask."

Sometimes, Maya thought, feeling seen wasn't about everyone knowing your name. It was about one person noticing you enough to leave a tiny, perfect, weird note at 3 AM with a terrible cat drawing.

She wasn't invisible anymore. And neither was Lila.