The Sphinx of Sophomore Year

Maya's dad dropped her off wearing the beanie. The stupid cat beanie with ears that her aunt sent for Christmas. She'd begged him not to make her wear it, but he'd said, "Give it a chance, M. Own it."

Now she was walking toward the high school entrance like a walking cringe compilation, watching everyone else look somehow effortless in their thrifted hoodies and perfectly messy hair. How did they make looking like they didn't care look so intentional? Meanwhile, Maya was out here committing felony levels of trying too hard.

"Nice hat," said a voice behind her.

Maya turned. It was Riley from her English class, the one who sat in the back with her legs always propped on the empty desk. The one everyone said was "lowkey chill" but also "kind of intense about weird stuff."

"It's not ironic," Maya blurted. "I mean, I didn't choose it ironically. My aunt—" Why was she explaining this? "Whatever. It's giving winter woodland creature but not, like, on purpose."

Riley's eyebrows went up. "That's a lot of layers for a beanie, Maya."

Maya felt her face heat up. This was it. This was her social death. She started to reach up to pull it off—

"No, wait." Riley stepped closer. "My cat just had kittens. Want to see?"

"What?"

"My cat. I live, like, two blocks that way." Riley pointed toward the neighborhood behind the school. "We've got twenty minutes before the bell. They were born yesterday and my mom said I can't keep them all, so I'm basically running a foster situation until I figure it out."

Maya should say no. That's what her mom always said—don't go anywhere with someone you don't know, even from school. But Riley was already walking, not really waiting for an answer, and Maya's feet were moving on their own and suddenly they were cutting through someone's backyard and this was absolutely not how her morning was supposed to go.

Riley's room was covered in posters Maya didn't recognize—bands, maybe? Or art prints? In the corner, a cardboard box sat on a folded towel. Inside, a regular-looking tabby cat lay curled around something small and weirdly pink and wrinkled.

"She's a sphinx," Riley said, like that explained everything. "The mom, I mean. Sphinx cat. No fur. She showed up pregnant behind the strip mall. We think someone dumped her."

Maya leaned closer. The kittens—they weren't hairless. They had soft gray fuzz, tiny and perfect, squirming against their mother's strange warm skin. The mom cat opened one gold eye and watched Maya, unbothered.

"She's beautiful," Maya said, and realized she meant it.

"Right?" Riley sat cross-legged on the floor. "Everyone's like, that's freaky looking, but I'm like, that's literally just a cat with no deception. What you see is what you get. No hiding." Riley looked at Maya's hat. "Kinda like that beanie, honestly."

Maya's hand went to her head. "You think it's not cringe?"

"I think it's giving 'I wore this because someone I love gave it to me and I'm secure enough to rock it.'" Riley tilted their head. "Am I wrong?"

"My aunt," Maya admitted. "She lives in Portland and she's the only one who gets me. She sent it with this note that said 'for the days you need to be a little soft creature.'"

"See. That's honestly iconic." Riley's phone buzzed. "Crap, seven minutes. We gotta book."

They ran back, breathless and laughing, slipping into their seats just as the late bell rang. Maya's heart was still racing, but not from the running. She touched the cat ears on her beanie and didn't pull it down.

At lunch, she sat with Riley. Riley introduced her to people. Maya talked about her aunt in Portland. Someone asked about the hat and she told them the story, and they actually smiled, like they got it.

Later that night, Maya texted her aunt a photo of herself wearing the beanie, finger guns awkwardly raised. The caption read: finally taking your advice to heart.

Her aunt replied: PROUD OF YOU. Also that cat IS magnificent. Wait WHAT cat??

Maya smiled. Some stories were better told in person anyway.