The Friday Night Disguise

Max stood outside the gym doors, clutching the crumpled invitation like it might spontaneously combust. First house party of sophomore year. He'd been planning his outfit for three days, and the beanie he'd spent twenty bucks on was already making his scalp sweat. But you couldn't show up to Jake's party looking basic.

Inside, the bass thudded through the floorboards. Max spotted his crush, Sam, near the drinks, wearing that effortlessly perfect way they made everything look. Max took a breath, smoothed his hat, and stepped into the chaos.

"Max!" Someone shoved a red cup into his hand. "Finally came out of your shell, huh?"

He managed a weak grin. Sarah. The one who'd bear-hugged him in the hallway last week when he'd dropped his books, then pretended it never happened. Social dynamics were exhausting.

Then he saw it—a cat clock on the wall, eyes moving back and forth with each second. The house had, like, seven cats. Sam was taking pictures with one of them, laughing as it tried to escape their grip. Something about that moment made Max's chest tight.

He found himself drifting toward them, then practically tripping over his own words. "Nice cat. I mean, not that I'm a cat person or anything—"

Sam looked up, eyes bright. "You think? My mom fosters them. This one's a total brat, though. We call it Bear because it eats everything and sleeps like it's dead."

"Bear?" Max laughed before he could stop himself. "That's... actually kind of perfect."

"Right?" Sam's phone lit up. "Hey, you want a picture? Bear's about to make a run for it."

Max ended up in Sam's Instagram story that night, hat slightly askew, holding a cat named Bear while trying not to get scratched. By Monday, half the school had seen it.

"The Cat Guy," Jake had called him in the hallway, but Max found he didn't even mind. Because Sam had DM'd him the next morning: "Bear misses you. Museum trip this weekend?"

The beanie was retired after that. Sometimes the best disguise was taking it off.