The kitten lifted her tiny head out of the bowl. Beads of milk clung to her whiskers, weighing them down so they drooped, making her look like she had a mustache. Zoe snapped a photo of her with her phone.

“You could try to change your parents’ minds,” Harrison suggested. “You’re not a little kid anymore.” He mimed craning his neck to look up at her, as if he were so much shorter. “Literally.”

She glared at him. She’d spurted up in the last year and was now a good four inches taller than Harrison, a fact she didn’t like being reminded of. Mom had tossed out all her favorite jeans just because they were “a little short,” and at her party, her uncle kept making basketball jokes.

“I’m serious!” Harrison said. “You should at least try!”

“Maybe.” Zoe reached into the box again, and the kitten leaned against her finger as Zoe rubbed her tiny, milk-soaked cheek. The kitten seemed to be vibrating. “She’s purring!” It was so sweet that Zoe couldn’t stop smiling.

“See! You have to make it permanent,” Harrison said. “She hissed at me, but she adores you. She’s meant to be with you.”

Maybe he’s right. But . . .

From downstairs, Zoe’s brother called, “Zoe! Second cake!”

Zoe withdrew her hand from the box as Harrison clambered over her bed to the window. “You know you could come downstairs and have second cake and leave through a door like a normal person.”

“Told you: it’s practice. Plus I’m going to make s’mores—after I light a fire using only two sticks.” He mimed rubbing sticks together, then added, “And a match.”

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to play with fire?”

“Yeah, but my grandmother overruled them.” His voice was wistful. The older Mrs. Acharya had died last fall, and Zoe knew how much he missed her.

“Your grandma was the best,” Zoe said, “but she still would have told you not to burn down the neighborhood.”

He shot her a grin, as if to say he’d never done anything reckless in his entire twelve years of life, which she knew for a fact was not true, and then he climbed out the window and lowered himself onto her porch roof. Before hurrying downstairs, Zoe checked the kitten one more time. She was settling in, kneading the sweater with her little claws.

Zoe felt like bursting with the news. A kitten was in her room! I may have saved her life! Even if she hadn’t really saved her from anything but a summer night outside, Zoe still felt like something wonderful and special had happened. As if she’d found an extra birthday present.

A secret birthday present.