“Thanks. You know, you could have used the door. My parents would have been happy to see you.” She helped him climb in. As skinny as a skeleton, Harrison didn’t need much space to squeeze himself through—he was mostly elbows and knees. He was also not very graceful. He tumbled onto her pillow, much like the kitten falling onto the sweater.

“Gotta keep in practice for Everest.” He’d been talking about his dream to climb Mount Everest since kindergarten. There was zero chance his parents would ever let him do it, or that he’d be able to survive the required video game withdrawal. Untangling himself, he stared off the edge of the bed into the box. “Whoa. That’s a small kitten!”

“Yep, she is.” She avoided saying “Told you so,” because that was obvious.

He adjusted his glasses, as if that would make the kitten’s size change. “Like seriously newborn-baby-kitten small. Do you think she was just born? Are you sure she’s a she?”

“Not sure. And not sure. It’s not as if she or he could tell me, so I’m going with ‘recently born’ and ‘she.’” She liked the awe in Harrison’s voice. That was how she felt every time she looked at the kitten. So much cuter than a stray turtle. “Cutest thing you’ve ever seen, right?”

“Beyond cute. There needs to be a new word for how stupendously cute she is. Cute-ificent. Cuterageous. Cutextraordinary.” He reached in to pet her, and she fluffed up her fur and gave him a tiny, sweet hiss.

He withdrew, and the kitten returned to the milk. She circled twice around the bowl. Wrinkling her tiny nose, she sniffed at it. Zoe wanted to cheer. “Go on. Drink the milk. You can do it!”

“I thought cats drinking milk was a myth,” Harrison said. “Makes them sick.”

“Kittens drink milk. Grown cats don’t.”

“Are you sure?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began typing. “Yep, once they’re grown, they lose the enzyme to digest lactose, and it makes them vomit. Kittens are fine, though—you’re right. But you’re supposed to feed motherless newborn kittens milk with an eyedropper. They can’t feed themselves.”

As they watched, the kitten began to lap at the milk.

“Or maybe they can.” Harrison frowned at his phone. “When kittens are first born, their eyes are closed and their ears are flattened back. They can’t see, hear, keep themselves warm, or eliminate waste on their own. You’re supposed to rub their butts until they poop.”

“What? You’re making that up.” She craned to see his screen.

He showed it to her. “See?”

“Huh.” Her kitten was much perkier than that. Her ears were upright triangles, and her blue eyes were fully open. Zoe pointed to another photo of a several-week-old kitten. “She’s more like that. She must not be a newborn.”