Chapter 1 1.
By the time I arrive for my first day of sixth grade at Kagan Middle School, I’m starving, exhausted, and limping.

And school hasn’t even started yet!

I should back up. None of this would have happened if my family were still living in our apartment two blocks from the middle school. But no! Over the summer we had to pack up our whole lives and move all the way across town.

My brother Sam says I should be glad about the move. The new house is a lot bigger than our old apartment, and mostly, Mom’s a lot happier now with her new boyfriend. It’s his giant house we moved into.

I’m not getting too comfortable, though. Our dad didn’t stick around, and there’s no reason to think this guy will either. If not, we’ll probably do what Mom was planning right before Mr. Meow showed up: move to Texas to live with my abuelos. I love them, and their ranch is the best for a visit. But the tiny K-12 school closest to them definitely doesn’t have a softball team, which is a major bummer.

For now we live with Paul, which is Mom’s boyfriend’s real name, but the entire internet knows him as Mr. Meow. I’m not even kidding. He’s a catfluencer. AS HIS JOB. He spends his whole day making silly videos and social media posts with his cats.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good internet cat video as much as the next person. Give me all the cats on robot vacuums, cats surprised by cucumbers, and cats in death matches with laser pointers. But don’t make me live with the guy who makes those videos.

Sam says, “It’s dope that he’s making bank doing what he loves.” But Sam’s mostly just glad the guy has an extra car he gets to drive. Mr. Meow is nice to our mom and he makes her happy, but he is seriously the most embarrassing person on the planet, and now my clothes are permanently covered in cat hair.

Also, he’s entirely to blame for my disaster of a morning.

Every year since kindergarten, my mom has made a big production of waking me up with breakfast in bed on the first day of school. It’s a whole thing. Even in fourth grade, when my dad left and she had a hard time getting out of bed, she managed. The frozen waffles weren’t totally defrosted, but still!

This morning, though, my first morning of middle school, I woke not to my mom’s gentle shake on my arm, but to a wild beast devouring my face!

I’ve never had a problem with cats. At least not before Mr. Meow was shoved into my life. But I don’t want them sticking their paws in my water glass, randomly batting at me when I walk by, or sitting on my computer when I’m trying to watch videos. All of which have happened in the last week. And I definitely don’t want them biting my nose first thing in the morning. (Or ever!)

“Ugh, Purrito, get off.” Mr. Meow’s followers named this particular kitten, even though Mr. Meow claimed she was a gift for me. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’ll stay here when we move to Texas.

I rolled over, hoping to catch a few more z’s before my breakfast in bed. But I happened to see my clock before my eyes drifted closed again.

8:29?!

Mom was supposed to wake me up at seven fifteen!

If I wanted to catch a ride with Sam, I had to be ready in six minutes!

And I HAD to catch a ride with Sam. My alternative was a ride from Mr. Meow, in his Meow-mobile. I promise, I am not making any of this up. The Meow-mobile is a minivan covered entirely in cat stickers—not just on the bumper, like a normal cat lover’s car. Mr. Meow sells these stickers on his website: goofy cartoon cats paired with all his catchphrases. Things like With the right cattitude, anything is pawsible and I’ve got felines for you and Enjoy every meowment.

They completely cover the van—front, back, and sides. I would rather move to the Australian sheep farm where my dad is currently living—or at least where he was the last time we heard from him—than arrive at the first day of middle school in the Meow-mobile. And my dad lives in a tent!

Thankfully, I had laid out my first-day-of-school outfit the night before. I’m not usually super into fashion, but the first day of middle school only happens once. So I admit it: I had planned this outfit for weeks.

First, when we were moving, I found a red plaid skirt in Mom’s closet. It was part of the uniform at her Catholic high school. She said she hated it, so who knows why she’s kept it all these years. Adults make weird choices. But she didn’t care when I took it and paired it with a black T-shirt and chunky black boots.

At least that’s what I was planning for my first-day-of-school outfit. But when I grabbed for the skirt, instead of getting a handful of fabric, I stuck my hand into something gross and wet. I knew what it was before I looked—cat puke.

“Purrito! What did you do?!” I looked around for the suspect, but I only caught a flash of tail zipping out of my room as Purrito fled the scene.

So much for my perfectly preppy-cool first-day-of-school outfit. I ran for the bathroom to clean the puke off my hand (blech!!!) and then back to my bedroom.

I was down to five minutes. I grabbed the first T-shirt and pair of leggings I saw and pulled them on as I hurried down the stairs.

Guess what’s not a great idea? Putting on leggings while going downstairs. Of course I tripped and twisted my ankle. But I couldn’t let it stop me.

I ran my fingers through my tangled hair—so much for the intricate braid I’d spent all summer learning—as I ran limping into the kitchen to find my mom perched on a barstool at the kitchen island, staring with heart eyes at Mr. Meow.