The Sphinx of Mr. Henderson's Porch

Maya pressed her back against the peeling paint of Mr. Henderson's front porch, phone clutched in her sweating hand like contraband. This was stupid. She was basically a cat burglar now, except instead of stealing jewels, she was trying to steal five minutes of peace from her own life.

She'd come here to spy on herself — not literally, duh, but to escape the group chat blowing up with texts about who liked who and what everyone was wearing to Emma's party on Friday. Since starting high school three months ago, Maya felt like she'd been living in someone else's skin. The old Maya who cracked bad jokes and didn't care if her hair was frizzy? Gone. New Maya spent twenty minutes deciding between five almost identical shirts.

A rustling sound made her jump. A cat emerged from the bushes — not a normal cat, but a sphinx cat, naked and wrinkled with giant ears that stuck out like satellite dishes. It stared at her with eyes the color of storm clouds.

"Nice disguise," Maya whispered. The cat blinked slowly, then trotted over and began rubbing against her legs like they were old friends.

The porch light flickered on. Maya's heart dropped like an elevator whose cables snapped.

Mr. Henderson stood in the doorway, wearing pajama pants and a faded t-shirt. "Maya? That you?"

She froze. Caught. Busted. Cancelled.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"Sitting on my porch talking to Barnaby?" He gestured at the sphinx cat, now curled in Maya's lap like he owned it. "He doesn't usually warm up to strangers. You must be special."

Barnaby. The naked cat had a name. For some reason, this made Maya want to cry.

"You okay, kid?" Mr. Henderson asked softly.

Maya opened her mouth to say "fine" — her default setting lately — but instead she heard herself say, "I think I forgot who I'm supposed to be."

Mr. Henderson considered this, leaning against his doorframe. "The sphinx asked riddles, right? Impossible ones. But the real answer was always that you had to figure it out yourself. Nobody else can tell you who you are."

The cat purred, a sound like a tiny engine.

Maya looked at her phone lighting up with new notifications, then at Barnaby, then at the starry sky above them. She turned off her phone and petted the cat's wrinkly head.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I'm starting to get that."