“She’s too small to be that many weeks old.”

“Maybe she was born premature,” Zoe said. “You were small when you were born.” They’d known each other since they were both in diapers, and she’d heard all the stories, how Harrison had been in newborn intensive care for weeks, so tiny he couldn’t breathe on his own at first. Mrs. Acharya, Harrison’s grandmother, had always told the story by comparing her grandson to a honey cake taken out of the oven too soon. He had to bake longer before his parents were able to bring him home. That’s why he’s so delicious, she’d always concluded, pretending to gobble his shoulder.

“Wait—Look.” He scrolled through his phone and showed her another photo. “She could be twelve days old. At twelve days, their eyes are open and their ears are up, but they’re still super tiny. Plus, if she’s been on her own without much food, that would explain why she’s on the small side. Now that you’re feeding her, she’ll grow.”

Harrison, she knew, liked it when he could understand the how and why of a thing. He was happiest when everything was neatly labeled in its own box. His idea of a fun Saturday was reorganizing his bookshelves. Currently his books were sorted alphabetically by topic, which meant revenge stories came after pirates but before superheroes. She had no idea what he did with revenge books about pirate superheroes. It was better not to ask. Now that he’d labeled the kitten as an underfed, twelve-day-old female, he was content, even if Zoe had no idea whether he was right. She decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the kitten was here, and Zoe was going to take care of her—at least for tonight.

“So, what are you going to do about your parents?” Harrison asked. He knew about her history with animals. Up until six months ago, she’d brought home nearly every animal she found, convinced it needed her help. Her mom had put a stop to that after Zoe had smuggled a baby skunk into the house, thinking it was a cat. Prior to that, Mom had said no to a baby squirrel, an injured bird, and a garden snake—as well as the box turtle—but the skunk was the last straw.

“They were pretty serious after the skunk,” Zoe admitted.

“You can’t get rid of her! She’s cutextraordinary!”

Zoe sighed. She wished she could keep the kitten. She hadn’t known it was possible to get attached to anything so quickly, especially something that was basically a walking cotton ball, but all she wanted to do was gaze at the kitten’s adorableness.

“Mom will just insist we give her away, like every other animal I’ve ever tried to bring home,” Zoe said. “I think she still has the animal rescue center number memorized.”