Three Paws Warning

The baseball field behind the school smelled like cut grass and teenage desperation. Marcus stood at home plate, sweat already pooling in his lower back, trying to look like he belonged in varsity tryouts instead of just another sophomore who'd watched too many sports movies.

"You got this, bro," Jordan yelled from behind the backstop. Jordan, who'd been Marcus's best friend since sixth grade, when they'd discovered they both hated gym class with equal passion. Jordan, who'd somehow become popular freshman year while Marcus remained firmly in the "quiet kid who reads at lunch" demographic.

The coach squinted at his clipboard. "Let's see what you got, son."

Marcus tightened his grip on the bat. This was it—his chance to finally be someone at Northwood High. Someone who got mentioned in morning announcements. Someone who didn't eat lunch in the library every day because he'd accidentally formed a book club that met there and never had the heart to leave.

He wound up for the swing, channeling every sports anime he'd ever binged, and—

A gray blur streaked across the infield.

Mrs. Henderson's cat, Barnaby, who'd been living under the bleachers since forever, decided RIGHT THEN was the perfect time to make his annual appearance. The cat stopped at second base, sat down, and started licking its paw with the confidence of something that knew it was ruining everything.

The entire team froze. Even the coach looked like he wasn't getting paid enough for this.

Marcus lowered the bat. His moment. His everything moment. Interrupted by a cat.

But then Jordan was jogging onto the field, not mad but laughing, calling "Hey Barnaby, you drama queen," like this was exactly the kind of thing that happened in their lives. And suddenly Marcus was laughing too, really laughing, the kind where your stomach hurts and you can't breathe, and the coach was cracking up, and even the seniors who'd been glaring at him all morning were grinning.

"Alright," the coach said, wiping his eyes. "We'll call it. Tryouts continue tomorrow. Same time. Don't bring any more pets."

"Sorry," Marcus managed, still giggling. "He's a huge baseball fan."

Jordan draped an arm around his shoulder as they walked to the parking lot. "That was the most legendary thing I've ever seen, and I once saw Mr. Daniels try to dab at assembly. You're making the team, dude. No cat can stop that swing."

Marcus exhaled. Maybe he didn't have to be someone else. Maybe he could just be the guy whose tryout got interrupted by a cat, who had a friend who thought that was awesome instead of embarrassing.

"Wanna come over? My mom made those cookies you like."

"Bet," Jordan said. "But only if we can figure out how Barnaby even got past the fence."