The Menagerie of Us

Lexie's summer strategy had been flawless: get a job at Aunt Mae's animal rescue,transform from invisible sophomore to someone who actually mattered, and finally talk to Kai without forgetting how words worked.

The reality involved more poop than anticipated.

"He's being a total fox again," Aunt Mae sighed, nodding toward the red-furred rehabilitation case who'd figured out how to open his own cage. Three times this week. "Some animals just know they're gorgeous."

Lexie eyed the fox — genuinely gorgeous, annoyingly intelligent, currently giving her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Relatable," she muttered.

Kai chose that moment to walk in, smelling like sunshine and expensive cologne, somehow making the volunteer vest look like a fashion statement. "Hey! How's our escape artist today?"

"Plotting," Lexie said, then winced. COOL. REALLY SMOOTH.

But Kai laughed, and it was this warm, genuine sound that made her chest feel weird. "He's got personality. Unlike Princess Fluffington over there."

He pointed at the corner cat — an elderly Persian who stared at them with what could only be described as judgement. The cat had arrived with her elderly owner into assisted living, and Lexie had spent weeks trying to get her to eat anything other than the most expensive wet food available.

"She's not plotting world domination," Lexie said. "She's mourning. There's a difference."

"You talk to them like they're people," Kai said, and there was something in his voice — not making fun, not exactly. Something softer.

"Better than talking to actual people," Lexie said before she could stop herself, then felt her face heat up. "I mean—"

"Yeah," Kai said quietly. He picked up the adoption folder for the new dog — some chaotic golden retriever puppy who'd been found wandering behind the mall. "Sometimes dogs just get it. They don't care if you're awkward or if you say the wrong thing. They're just happy you exist."

The puppy woke up, tail thumping against the crate, and Lexie thought about how the fox was always watching, analyzing. How the cat held herself apart, grieving. How the dog just wanted to be near someone, anyone.

She wondered which one she was. Which one Kai was.

"Hey," Kai said, not looking at her. "My cousin's having a party Saturday. Her parents are out of town. You should come."

The fox paused mid-escape attempt. The cat's ears perked up. The puppy's tail went absolutely feral.

"I'm not really party people," Lexie said, even though she desperately wanted to be.

"It's not — it's just movies and snacks. Low pressure. I could pick you up?" Finally, he looked at her, and there was something hopeful in his expression that made her heart do this embarrassing flutter thing.

"Okay," she heard herself say. "Yeah. Okay."

The fox made a satisfied sound, like this had been his plan all along.

"Cool," Kai said, smiling like she'd given him something important. "Cool."

Later, Aunt Mae found Lexie sitting cross-legged by the cat's crate, letting the golden puppy chew on her shoelaces while the fox watched from his newly-opened cage.

"So," Aunt Mae said, leaning against the doorframe. "Kai invited you to a thing?"

"How did you—"

"The fox opened his cage again," she said, like this explained everything. "He only does that when something interesting is about to happen."