Chapter 9 Mara
NINE
MARA
The late afternoon sun slants through the oak trees shading the old walkway at the edge of campus, and I pull my cardigan tighter around my shoulders.
Classes are finally over for the day, but I don’t want to go back to the dorm just yet. After the past couple weeks, I need a moment of quiet. My feet wander almost automatically to the garden behind the library. It’s a large hedge maze with a few gazebos surrounding a large ballerina statue.
There are a lot of stories surrounding this statue, but I think most are lore rather than truth.
I notice a student sitting on a bench leaning against the pillars, drawing the dancer, lost in her thoughts. I wish I could be creative, but I was built with more of an analytical mind. And I hate that.
I pass by a tall hedge and freeze. From somewhere deep inside comes a tiny, desperate little mewl.
I lean in slowly, breath catching until a pair of green eyes glint at me from under a thicket of leaves.
The kitten is almost entirely black, fur matted slightly with dirt and dew, but it looks up at me, terrified.
“Hey there,” I whisper, crouching. The kitten flinches, hissing a little. It’s probably just a baby—maybe three months old—thin and shaking. My heart lurches.
I let my voice soften. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
A delicate sound: meow. The kitten stirs deeper among the leaves.
I kneel and reach a trembling hand in, trying to coax it out.
My fingers graze its fur—warm and soft. The little creature purrs in surprise, and I manage to pull it out of the hedge.
The kitten is limp with relief, tiny claws pawing weakly against the ground.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I murmur, and the kitten’s eyes close as I cradle it gently to my chest. Instinctively, I wrap it in my cardigan, tucking it against the warmth, and it burrows happily into the folds. For a moment, I forget the world and the need to hide my body.
I hurry back to my dorm and shut the door behind me, heart still racing like I’d stolen something—which, technically, I had. Or rescued. Depends on who you ask.
The kitten immediately begins to knead the blanket the moment I set him down on my bed. I pull off my cardigan and drape it around him like a nest. He blinks up at me with his shiny black fur and big eyes.
What the fuck am I going to do with this little ball of fluff?
I crouch down beside the bed, stroking behind his ears. He melts under the touch like warm wax, curling into my palm. “You shouldn’t trust me,” I whisper, brushing a stray fleck of dirt from his fur. “I don’t get to keep things.”
He presses his nose to my wrist.
I can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.
There’s a knock at my door—three quick taps. I freeze, instinctively shielding the kitten with my arm like someone’s about to barge in and tear him away.
“It’s me,” Zane calls.
I exhale and rise, cracking the door just enough to peer out.
He blinks at me, brows lifted. “Why did you sprint inside like you robbed someone?” he asks, holding a granola bar in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “Did you murder someone? Because if so, we need to talk about alibis.”
“Shh,” I whisper, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him inside.
Zane stumbles in with a laugh, then goes dead quiet when he sees the kitten curled on my bed. “Holy shit. Wait—was that…?”
While I let him process, I dig through my drawer until I find the emergency tuna can I keep for late-night study sessions. Not the most nutritious meal for a kitten, but it’s something. I grab one of my chipped ceramic bowls and dump the tuna in.
He clocks the little shadow curled up like a comma in the middle of my bed, and his eyes go wide. “Mara Black, did you rescue a pom-pom?”
“I found him near the campus gardens. He just… crawled out and looked at me like I was supposed to do something.”
Zane stares. “So, naturally, you became his mother. Have you got a name for him yet?”
I set the bowl in front of the kitten and he dives in, nose-first, practically inhaling the food. I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him.
“No… no name.”
He tosses his stuff on my desk and walks over, crouching beside the bed to get a better look. The kitten pauses mid-chew, regards him, then keeps eating.
“I always assumed you’d break the rules one day, but I thought it’d be like… swiping a library book or jaywalking.”
“He was alone. I just… couldn’t leave him.”
Zane glances up at me. “No, I get it—trust me. You’re not fooling anyone with your ice queen act.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, and my eyes flick back to the kitten. “I know I can’t keep him, I just wanted him to be okay for one night.”
He doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then, gently says, “You want me to help figure out what to do?”
Before I can answer, there’s another knock.
Zane straightens immediately. “Oh no.”
I freeze. “RA.”
We both go silent, staring at the door like it might disappear if we concentrate hard enough.
Another knock.
Zane whispers, “If I climb out your window, promise me you’ll remember me fondly.”
“If you climb out of the window, I’ll burn your entire manga collection. Don’t fuck with me.”
The door creaks open, and my RA, Serena, looks between me and Zane in confusion. Zane straightens up immediately, putting on a grin.
“Uh, hey, Serena,” Zane says. He’s always on the verge of causing trouble, but he’s practiced at looking innocent. “Sorry to bug you, but there’s a thunderstorm warning flashing on my phone, and I don’t really want to walk back to my place in the rain. Can I crash here tonight?”
Serena rubs her temples. “Zane, it’s four thirty. The sky is clear. You’ll be fine.” She squints at the wide-eyed kitten peeking out from the blanket on my bed. “What is that?”
I swallow hard. “It kind of… showed up,” I blurt out. “He was outside when I was returning from class.”
Serena’s eyebrows shoot up. “A kitten? In the dorm? Mara, you know the rules.”
“Yes, I know,” I say quietly.
Zane looks between Serena and me. “She’s right, Mara, you can’t keep him here. The policy is pretty strict.” I shoot him a daggered glare that says why the fuck are you not taking my side.
Serena sighs. “Look, if you take him to the campus shelter, they’ll take care of him. He needs a home, and unfortunately, it can’t be here.”
Tears burn my eyes but won’t fall. “I know,” I whisper as I look down at the kitten. He presses a paw against my knee, coaxing me to look at him. How can I just give him away when he needs me? I place him on the bed and pat his head.
“We will take care of it right now,” Zane blusters, clearly trying to smooth things over. Serena nods reluctantly.
Then she turns and leaves.
When the door clicks shut, I rush back to the bed and scoop the kitten into my arms. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, my voice breaking just a little. “We’ll find you somewhere safe.”
Zane, trying to lighten the mood, sets the empty tuna bowl aside. “You know,” he says with a weak grin, “pretty sure this kitten’s already more emotionally available than half the frat row.”
I almost smile, but the lump in my throat won’t let me.
Instead, I just shake my head. Zane gently pats my shoulder, and he means well—I know he’s proud of me for being nice to a stray—but all I can feel is numbness creeping in.
I look at the kitten. He’s back on the bed now, curling up against a pillow, snoozing after his big meal, untroubled by any of this.
The shelter building is narrow and squat, painted a fading blue, with a small parking lot mostly empty. A single lamppost shines over the entrance where a neon sign flickers. Open Late.
I hold the kitten, who I have named Cosmo, like a football against my chest. He’s falling asleep again, eyes half-closed. When I glance at Zane, he smiles back at me. “He’s pretty cute.”
Inside, we’re greeted by a kind woman at the front desk—Linda, the shelter volunteer. Her eyes crinkle when she smiles at me. I kneel to look Cosmo in the face. He seems aware of the moment, trembling a bit, but still trusting in me.
“He’s beautiful,” Linda says softly.
“I’m glad to hear he’s a boy. His name is Cosmo.”
Already, I feel ridiculous, naming him when I knew I’d have to give him up.
She gently takes Cosmo from my arms, and he stretches his paws as if accepting this as his rightful place now. She coos, “Ready for a new home?”
Zane steps forward with a plate of leftover tuna packed in a to-go container. “He ate some already, but I brought a bit more just in case.”
Linda smiles at him. “That’s sweet. Feeding them tuna isn’t the best thing, usually, but I’m sure the little guy appreciated the meal. Thank you both so much for bringing him in.”
“Thank you for caring for the… animals here.”
“He’s safe now,” she assures me. “We have volunteers overnight, and we’ll make sure he’s checked and gets whatever he needs.”
I nod again. There’s nothing more to say.
Zane clears his throat. Finally, he rests a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s head out.”
The night is silent outside the shelter, and Zane walks beside me in silence for a block. Under the streetlights, he checks his phone and presses a foot on the curb. “I want to say something, but I don’t know what to say.”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye, then turn my gaze forward. “Me either. Shit sucks.”
As we round the corner toward Cromwell Hall, I see him.
Dredyn mother fucking Steele.
He looks carved from shadow. One boot braced against the post, hands shoved in his pants pockets.
What the fuck is he waiting for? Did he see me go into the goddamn shelter?
Zane is still talking, voice casual and half-laughing—something about founding a campus rescue-cat society with matching embroidered sweatshirts. But then he sees my face, following my gaze.
“Oh. Shit.”
Dredyn’s eyes lift slowly. First to Zane, then to me. They stay there—anchored.
“Why are you crying?”
Son of a bitch. Zane shifts immediately, stepping half a pace in front of me, ready to physically body-block me. “That’s your opener? Jesus, you’re a real charmer.”
I scrub a shaking hand beneath my eye. “It’s none of your business.”
Dredyn cocks his head. “Anything concerning you is my business. Unless you’re crying over nothing. Then that would just be pathetic.”
“I’m not crying over nothing.”
“No?” His tone is mocking. “Then tell me, Polly Pocket.”
Polly Pocket. The audacity.
Zane lets out a disgruntled noise. “She had to take a kitten to the shelter. Black, tiny, purring like it trusted her with the whole damn world. You should’ve seen the eyes on this thing.
Looked like a Pixar character right before it dies.
” Then he softens, palm pressing against my arm as he leans in to whisper, “They’re not going to kill him. I promise, hun.”
I nod, but it doesn’t help. That flicker in Dredyn’s jaw doesn’t go unnoticed. It tightens the second Zane touches me.
But it’s gone just as fast.
“You’re upset over a stray?”
I square my shoulders. “Not that you’d understand human empathy, but, yes.”
“Didn’t peg you for the humanitarian type.”
Zane barks out a laugh. “Wow. You’re a one-man emotional support group. Do you read Hallmark cards in your spare time, or just kick puppies for stress relief?”
Dredyn ignores him completely. Like Zane’s just ambient noise, or a more annoying fly.
His gaze slices into me. “You should be careful with that kind of softness. It makes you a target. But being a Black, you already know that, don’t you?”
My stomach flips. That voice. The same one that dragged across my skin two weeks ago in that empty lecture room. I hated what it did to me. And I really, really hate the part of me wants him to do it again.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
He shrugs one shoulder like he’s already bored. “All you preppy little daughters are the same.”
“Fuck off, Dredyn.”
His mouth twitches. “I have better things to do anyway.” Then he turns and walks away.
Zane touches my elbow gently. “Mara—”
But I’m already moving, fast, head down, toward the dorms. Away from the sting behind my eyes and the heat that flared low in my stomach at the sound of his voice.
Away from the boy who doesn’t see right through me.
Who sees me?
And makes me wish I didn’t want him to.