The Vitamin C Conspiracy

The fedora was my brother's, stolen from his closet along with my dignity. Mom said I needed confidence, handed me a bottle of gummy vitamins with a smile that said *this will fix everything*, as if orange-flavored supplements could cure sophomore year.

"You'll thank me," she'd said, like she knew something about sitting alone at lunch while everyone else had already formed their friend groups for life.

The party was at Jake's house — Jake, who I'd had a crush on since that time he loaned me a pen in math and said "no worries" like it was nothing. My best friend Priya had practically dragged me there, and now she was somewhere in the kitchen doing shots ofapple juice while I stood in the backyard, alone, adjusting a fedora that made me look like a sentient indie band.

That's when the cat appeared.

Not a cute Instagram cat. A battle-scarred orange tabby that hopped the fence like it owned the place, stared at me with yellow eyes that knew exactly how uncool I was, then proceeded to throw up in the azaleas.

"Charming," I said.

The cat sat, cleaned itself, and looked at me like I should be impressed.

"You're literally the worst." I sat on the porch steps, fedora slipping. "Mom thinks Vitamin C will fix my life. Maybe I should become a cat person instead."

Jake came outside then, and my heart did that thing where it forgets how to work.

"Cool hat," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. "Is that your brother's?"

"Maybe," I said, weirdly defensive.

He laughed, sat beside me. The cat head-butted his hand like they were old friends.

"This cat's always here," Jake said. "Name's Vitamin."

"No way."

"Way. My little sister named him when we were kids. She thought he made everything better."

The cat purred, shameless. Jake looked at me, really looked at me, and suddenly I didn't want to be someone else anymore. The hat, the vitamins, the pretending — none of it mattered.

"You want to see something cool?" Jake asked.

I took off the fedora. "Absolutely."

The cat followed us inside, and for the first time all night, I didn't feel like I was missing anything. Mom was wrong about the vitamins, right about everything else — some things do make you better. Just not the things you can buy at a grocery store.