Under the Brim

The baseball cap sat pulled low on my forehead, practically swallowing my face. Perfect. If I couldn't see anyone, they couldn't see me either.

"Dude, you gonna play or what?" Tyler called from the pitcher's mound. He'd been my best friend since fourth grade, back when friendship was decided by who had the coolest lunchbox.

I adjusted the hat—Dad's old Dodgers cap, practically ancient—and shrugged. "Coming."

The truth? I hated baseball. But Dad lived for those weekend games in the stands, his voice booming every time I swung the bat. So I played. I wore the hat. I pretended to care about batting averages.

That's when I saw it—a flash of orange near the backstop. A cat. Not some cute, Instagram-ready kitten either. This thing looked like it'd seen things. Matted fur, one ear half-gone, attitude radiating off it like heat waves.

"Yo, you seeing this?" I said, pointing with my bat like an idiot.

Tyler followed my gaze. "That's the weirdest stray I've ever seen."

"We should catch it."

"Bro, it's a feral cat. It will end us."

But I was already moving, dropping my bat in the grass (Dad would kill me later). The cat watched me approach, yellow eyes unimpressed. I expected it to bolt. Instead, it let me scoop it up like we'd already planned this whole thing.

"What are you gonna name him?" Tyler asked, once we'd smuggled it behind the bleachers.

"Him?" I examined the cat. "Yeah. Him."

"You're keeping it, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Your dad's gonna lose it."

"Yeah, well." I pulled off my hat for the first time all day, letting my messed-up hair catch the breeze. The cat purred like a tiny engine in my arms. "Maybe it's time he dealt with it."

Tyler grinned. "You're really gonna do this? Stop playing?"

"Thinking about it."

"Good." He punched my shoulder. "Because you're terrible at baseball anyway."

The cat bit my finger. Not hard—just enough to say, pay attention to me, not him.

I laughed. "Fair enough."

We named him Dodger. Dad wasn't thrilled, but Mom actually smiled when I brought him home, like she'd been waiting for me to finally quit pretending.

Some friendships happen because you're thrown together. Others you choose. The best ones find you when you finally take off the hat and let yourself be seen.