Meow or Never

by Jazz Taylor

  “Dad said I’d outgrow it.”

  Harper snorts. She’s already done with the sandwich. “Outgrowing it eventually isn’t doing you a lot of good right now though, is it?”

  I lean back on my hands. I guess she’s right. I can’t change it, so if people think I’m weird, there’s nothing I can do about that either. Maybe it’s okay if Nic and Harper think I’m weird, as long as it’s in a good way. But I don’t want them to feel sorry for me.

  “Who was it?” Harper asks. She’s not smiling anymore. “Was it Nic?”

  “Oh, no way! She’d never say that.”

  Harper grunts like she doesn’t believe me. “She hangs out with Amberleigh and them, so you never know. I guess she’s okay though.”

  It clicks then—Harper thought Nic was making fun of me. That’s why she was acting so strange that morning. “Nic is a good friend, don’t worry. I mean, I think we’re friends. I never asked, technically, but we hang out sometimes and we practice for the play and she’s pretty nice to me—”

  “Stop,” Harper says, smiling at me. “You and Nic are friends. You and me are friends. Don’t overthink it.”

  I’ve never wanted to hug someone so much in my life. “Thanks, Harper.”

  The bell rings signaling the end of lunch. We get to our feet, and Phantom goes back into the closet, yawning. “No, Avery,” she says, holding out her hand for a fist bump. I touch my fist to hers tentatively, and she gives me a half smile. “Thank you.”

  I check my phone after theater, and I’m shocked by a notification from Dad.

  Off from work early! I’m out front now.

  Now? Like right now? Is something wrong? Pinpricks of sweat pop out against my hairline as I stuff my script into my backpack. I run out of the theater, my heart in my throat. Sure enough, his truck is parked in front of the building. He sees me and waves.

  Some of the panic fades. He’s grinning, so maybe nothing’s wrong. I go to the truck and open the back door. “What’re you doing here, Dad?”

  “Geez, what a welcome.” Dad laughs. “Come sit up front.”

  Uh oh. This isn’t good. I’m about to get some bad news. I close the back door and climb into the passenger seat, dread in my stomach. What could it be? Did Dad get fired? Are we moving again? Dad doesn’t look upset though. He’s humming along with the radio and starts the car.

  “Seat belt!” he says, his voice cheerful. I buckle up, uncertain. Maybe it’s good news instead. “I know you’re surprised, but nothing’s wrong. Someone pulled the fire alarm at work, and they let us go early.”

  All the unease disappears in an instant. It is good news! “Did the sprinklers go off and everything?”

  “Yep.” Dad looks really happy as he pulls out of the school’s parking lot. “My boss’s computer is ruined.”

  “Serves him right for making you work so much.”

  Dad’s smile fades a little. “Yeah. Sorry we haven’t gotten to hang out as much.”

  “That’s okay.” And I really do mean it. I know he has to work. That’s why I’m doing this play thing, so he won’t worry about me while he’s busy.

  “How’s the play going?” Dad asks. We should be almost home, but he’s driving down that abandoned road again. Why? “No more panic attacks?”

  “No,” I say, thinking about my almost one in Nic’s room. “I know all my lines now. It’s not so bad.”

  “Oh, good! I can’t wait to see it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. Something’s weird. He’s still smiling, but it’s not reaching his eyes. He keeps glancing at me too. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “I just wanted to talk a bit.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, I was talking to Nurse Biles earlier this week.”

  Why? I haven’t seen her since the panic attack.

  “I was also talking to your theater teacher, Mrs. Thompson. She says you’re doing really well in class, but sometimes she worries about you.” Dad takes a deep breath. “And I think, maybe, we should try something to help you with your anxiety.”

  Try something? Nervous heat creeps up my neck. “Like what?”

  Dad doesn’t look at me. “Like maybe talking to someone about it.”

  I gasp out loud. At first, I can’t even think. What does “talking to someone” mean? Like therapy? Does anyone my age even go to therapy? I thought it was just for adults. Will people think I’m weird if I go? They already think I’m weird. Amberleigh said so.

  “Avery?” Dad’s voice is tentative.

  And who is going to take me to therapy if I go? Dad already works so much and he’s so tired all the time. Would he get in trouble with his boss? Would I have to miss school? If I missed school, everyone would find out. I’d be the weird girl who can’t talk and has to miss first period because she can’t control her anxiety like a normal person.

  “Avery?” Dad’s voice is more insistent now. “Are you okay?”

  I can’t breathe. I’m hot and sweaty, and the inside of Dad’s truck is too cramped. But I can’t have a panic attack now. That will just prove his point—that I can’t take care of myself like everyone else can.

  “I don’t want to go.” I force the words to sound strong, even though my hands are shaking. I hide them in the sleeves of my jacket.

  “Avery—”

  “I’m fine. I don’t need any therapy.” Good thing he’s driving so he can’t see my face. I’m barely holding the attack back.

  “It’s just an idea,” Dad says, glancing at me. “I’m just worried about you, Avery. It scares me when it gets bad.”

  I don’t say anything because I’m trying to breathe. I remember Nurse Biles’s exercises. Three things I can see. My backpack, Dad’s blue coat, a million cows in a field. Three things I can feel. The warm leather of the seat, the breeze from the vents, my fingernails squeezed into my palms. Slowly, the heat fades and my throat opens up. I close my eyes, still shivering. See? I don’t need therapy. I can do this by myself.

  “Okay. I’ll make you a deal,” Dad says after a few minutes of silence. “We’ll table the discussion for now. You said you’re doing well in the play, and I believe you. But if it gets worse, we’ll try again, okay?”

  I take a deep, shaky breath. I have to stay in the play now. The stakes are too high. “Okay.”

  “Good deal.” Dad pats my arm gently. “Let’s go home and get pizza, yeah? Thin-crust pepperoni.”

  I nod, but I don’t feel like eating. All I can think about is the fact that I can’t sing in front of people yet. And I only have four weeks to fix that.

  After school the next day, I visit Phantom. She’s sleeping in her bed, but when she sees me, she meows and practically climbs up my leg.

  “Nice to see you too!” I pick her up and hold her at arm’s length. “Phantom. Serious question. Do you think I need therapy?”

  Phantom blinks at me. Is that a maybe?

  “Nic said I needed a therapy animal. So maybe I’m just one step away from actual therapy. But I don’t want to go.”

  Phantom reaches her paws out to me, meowing. I cradle her in my arms like a baby.

  “I don’t know, Phantom. It’s confusing. I just want to make this play work, you know? If I can just do that, everything will work out. I know it.”

  She extends one paw and touches my nose. My heart melts into a puddle of goo. I love this cat so much.

  “You’re right, let’s forget about it. Let’s take a picture.” I hold Phantom up and take a selfie of us. Phantom’s looking right at the camera, her eyes bright and adorable. I bury my face in her fur. I’ve got to find a way to take her home.

  After a few moments, Phantom squirms out of my arms and hops to the ground. She bats a water bottle cap around, her tail twitching.

  “I wish I was a cat. Turkey, bottle caps, a nice bed …” I trail off, remembering what Nic said about practicing in front of someone. Phantom is perfect. She can’t even talk, and she�
�s not really paying attention anyway. “Hang on, listen to this.” I grab my script and turn to the first song. It’s when Juliet and Romeo meet and decide to see each other again. I put my headphones on, press play on the music, open my mouth, and sing.

  When I’m done, Phantom yawns. Unimpressed, I guess.

  “I know, I gotta get the high notes right. I’m a little flat. Let me try again.”

  This time, I make sure I breathe deep, from the bottom of my belly. I close my eyes and really feel the music, the beat Mrs. Thompson recorded for us thumping in my ears. It’s perfect this time.

  I open my eyes, expecting Phantom to be looking at me, but she’s gone. I almost call for her, but stop myself. This has happened too many times before. I turn, dread in my stomach, and sure enough, Harper’s standing right behind me. Phantom circles her legs, purring.

  “Oh my God.” Harper’s eyes are huge. “Nic wasn’t kidding. You really can sing.”

  “You could have told me you were listening.” My face is so hot I’m scared I’ll disintegrate on the spot. But … I don’t have that about-to-pass-out feeling. Maybe it’s okay if Harper hears me sing?

  Harper crosses the room and surprises me by grabbing my hands. “You gotta try out for American Idol. And win a million dollars.”

  I burst out laughing, and Harper grins. I say, “Thanks, but I can’t sing in front of people. I get all sweaty.”

  “You can just wear extra deodorant!” Harper lets go of my hands, and Phantom returns to her bed. I close the closet door so she can nap, and Harper and I walk to the front of the theater. I’m cooling down now, and I’m not panicking. I guess I can add Harper and Phantom to the safe-to-sing-in-front-of list.

  “What were you doing?” I ask.

  “Coming to see if you’d gone home yet. Missed you yesterday.” Harper hesitates, like she’s about to tell me something but changes her mind. “Good thing too. I got to hear a concert.”

  “Stop!” We laugh some more. It’s kind of nice, not having to worry about anything with Harper. We’ve been friends for a little over a week and I don’t get too nervous around her.

  “Do you want to walk home together?” I ask. Now that I think about it, I have no clue where Harper’s house is. She has to live near me and Nic to meet us walking.

  Harper’s smile disappears. She looks down at her lap. “I’m not sure.”

  Did I say something wrong? “Not sure about … ?”

  Harper meets my eyes. Hers are sad. “I’m not sure if I should go home.”

  I stay quiet for a second. Harper wears the same hoodie every day, and she doesn’t bring lunch. And now she doesn’t want to go home. I touch my phone. I can ask Dad if she can stay with me, but I’m sure he’ll say yes. “Harper, do you want to—”

  I’m interrupted by the door to the theater opening. We both look up—it’s Nic. I start to wave, but my hand freezes halfway. She’s wiping her eyes and sniffling. She’s crying.

  “Uh oh,” Harper murmurs. “Better talk to her.”

  I want to, but I’m suddenly nervous. I’ve never seen Nic sad. What do I say? Harper nudges my arm, and I hop off the stage. I take a few steps closer, but it takes a while to work up the courage to speak.

  “Nic? Are you okay?”

  Nic looks up at us in alarm. She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, hi, Avery. I—I thought the theater would be empty.”

  “We’re always haunting the place.” Harper jumps off the stage and joins my side. “What happened?”

  Nic looks at the floor. “Nothing.”

  Harper and I exchange a look. Harper’s eyebrow is raised.

  “You don’t have to talk about it.” I hesitate but put a hand on Nic’s arm. She looks up at me. Her eyes are red and watery still. My chest aches with sympathy and anger. What made Nic cry? Or who? It had to be something bad; Nic doesn’t seem like a person who would let things get to her.

  “Who did it?” Harper says. She puts her fists up in a mock boxing stance. “Me and Avery’ll beat ’em up.”

  I put my fists up too. “They won’t see us coming!”

  Nic stares at us for a second, then bursts into laughter. I can’t help laughing too. I’ve never been in a fight, and I probably never will.

  “Thanks, guys.” Nic wipes her eyes again. Her eyes are clear now. “I’m okay, I promise. What’re you doing here?”

  “Avery was practicing, and I overheard her.” Harper elbows me playfully. “She can really sing. You weren’t kidding.”

  “I told you!” Nic looks at me, excitement all over her face. “Did you sing in front of Harper?”

  “No, I was singing to … myself. Harper just overheard me.”

  “Ah, well. We can practice tonight!”

  That reminds me. I turn to Harper. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

  Both Harper and Nic look shocked, but I’m determined. Harper seemed scared to go home. Dad might freak out, but this is an emergency.

  “Uh …” Harper looks unsure. “I guess I could? Maybe? If that’s okay?”

  “It’s okay.” I make sure I’m looking into Harper’s eyes. “I promise.”

  “Wait,” Nic says. “What about if we do it at my house? Avery, your dad gets home late, right?”

  Oh, that might be better. Then Dad won’t be panicking about me bringing her over without asking. And that means Nic doesn’t mind Harper, if she’s okay spending a whole sleepover with her. But me spending the night at Nic’s? My heart starts beating a bit faster at the thought.

  “Is that okay?” Harper asks, glancing at me.

  “Yeah!” Nic says. She bounces from foot to foot. “Oh, wow, this will be so much fun! A sleepover!”

  Harper seems overwhelmed, so I give her a reassuring smile, even though my heart is thumping against my ribs at the thought of spending the night with the girl I like.

  “It’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

  Harper nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  We walk to my house first, to get clothes and sleeping bags. Once Dad texts me back saying it’s okay (with an added PLEASE call me if you need to come home), I open my front door cautiously—I don’t know if Andrew’s around. Luckily, the house is dark and silent.

  “Okay, we’re clear.” I open the door wide for Harper and Nic. They both look around as I turn the lights on. There’s still moving boxes in the living room … oops. “My room’s upstairs, but I haven’t finished unpacking yet, so it’s kinda messy.”

  “That’s okay,” Nic says, still looking around the living room. “Your house is cool. It’s …”

  “Empty,” Harper says, touching a moving box. “How come you haven’t unpacked yet?”

  I look at my living room. We’ve been here six months, but it still doesn’t feel like home. I look at the blue walls and leather couch and all the boxes and miss that cramped apartment so bad it hurts.

  “I don’t know,” I tell Harper, and I mean it. I try to shake the ache in my chest. “Anyway, let’s go upstairs. Gotta get my sleeping bag.”

  We climb the steps to my room. It’s messy, but thank goodness I don’t have any underwear lying around.

  “Your room is so cute!” Nic says, picking up a plush cat Dad got me for Christmas. Harper stands at the door but doesn’t come in.

  “Thanks.” I hope to God she can’t see the heat in my face. I grab a bunch of clothes, enough for me and Harper, and stuff them into my only duffel bag. My sleeping bag is somewhere … I look in my closet and under my bed, but it’s not there. Probably packed up somewhere in one of the boxes.

  “You like Pokémon?” Nic asks. She points at the poster of the original 151 above my bed. It used to be Andrew’s, but he gave it to me after we moved.

  “Yeah, Andrew and I used to play together, before he turned into a jerk.” Wait, is Pokémon a weird thing to like?

  “I like it too,” Harper says. She’s still standing at the door. “I didn’t get to play the new games though.”

  �
�I love it too! But I mostly play the phone one. I haven’t played the one for the Switch yet.” Nic grins at me. “What’s your favorite type? I like water types.”

  “Dark types,” Harper says.

  I beam at them both. I had no idea they liked Pokémon. Or really, anything. We haven’t talked about a lot, I guess. “I like electric and grass types.”

  “Avery? Is that you?”

  I groan. Andrew. “I’m upstairs. But I’m leaving soon.”

  Andrew comes up the stairs and pokes his head into my room. He raises his eyebrows when he sees Harper and Nic. “Oh, wow, first one friend, now another? Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Go away!” I want to throw something at him, but I don’t want to accidentally hit Harper. “I’m spending the night with Nic. Dad said I could. So you can leave.”

  “Oh, already?” Andrew wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I just want to kill him. “Okay, I see you!”

  I pick up my pillow. “Harper, duck.”

  Andrew runs away as I hurl my pillow at him. I hear him laughing all the way to his room.

  I turn to Nic and Harper, my face burning. “Ready to go?”

  Harper nods, but Nic is staring at me with an expression I can’t read. Did she guess what Andrew was talking about? Surely not, because he was vague, but what if she did guess? Oh, Andrew, I’m gonna kill you—

  Nic smiles at me, and all the fear melts away. “Ready. Let’s go, team! Sleepover time!” She grabs my hand, and I wish she’d hold on forever.

  “Okay, Avery, let’s just try singing.” Nic holds her beat-up script at eye level. “You can pick any song you want.”

  I nod, holding my script with shaking hands. Nic, Harper, and I are hanging out in Nic’s room. We ate dinner already (pizza rolls, because Nic’s mom was not happy about Nic not telling her about the sleepover in advance), and now it’s play practice time. Specifically, singing time.

  “Hang on to Noodle,” Nic says. I put a hand on Noodle’s head, but my whole body is trembling already.

  Harper watches me in alarm. “Holy cow, is it always like this?”