Chapter 6

Parker reached out and stroked my head, his hand lingering there longer than usual.

"Thank you," Parker said softly, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincerity.

The next day, I staked out in the campus bushes, lying in wait until I finally spotted that bleach-blond guy, Triston.

Triston was heading to the teaching building with his friends, joking around, his backpack swinging loosely from one shoulder.

I shadowed them silently, then—as they turned the corner—darted forward and delivered a precise swipe of my claws at Triston Harrison's backpack, hitting my mark with perfect precision.

With a sharp tear, the canvas backpack split open, sending textbooks cascading to the ground.

"Damn it! Where'd this stray cat come from?!" Triston swung a frustrated kick at me, but I nimbly dodged and slipped into the bushes before he could get close.

From a distance, I heard his friend burst out laughing. "Damn, Triston! That cat's got it out for you!"

That afternoon, Parker came to see me, carrying a small bag of crispy fried fish snacks—a special treat he'd gotten from the restaurant where he worked part-time.

"Triston Harrison's backpack got shredded by a cat today," Parker said while feeding me, a rare sparkle in his eyes. "He said it was an orange-and-white one."

I pretended to be completely absorbed in my fish, but my tail gave me away, curling up in smug pride.

Parker suddenly let out a soft chuckle—the first genuine laugh I'd ever heard from him.

"You did it, didn't you?" Parker scratched behind my ears with a grin. "My Little Guardian."

From then on, I became Parker's Little Guardian.

When Parker got locked in the gym storage room, I'd squeeze through the window crack to let him out—just doing my Little Guardian duties.

When classmates tried to pour ink on Parker's seat, I'd knock their textbooks to the floor first.

When they tried to trip Parker in the hallway, I'd suddenly dash out to create a distraction.

Parker no longer refused to let me follow him.

Sometimes, Parker would even wait for me, slowing his long strides to match my pace so we could walk side by side.

We developed an unspoken understanding.

He talked, and I listened; he was in trouble, and I helped.

But this fragile peace was not meant to last.

After midterms, the school held a math competition.

Unsurprisingly, Parker took first place, leaving the runner-up trailing by over thirty points.

This should have been a proud achievement, but instead, it brought him fresh trouble.

I couldn't follow Parker to the award ceremony that day—the school auditorium didn't allow pets inside.

I waited anxiously outside, my nerves on edge. Suddenly, a commotion broke out inside, and then I heard Parker's icy voice cut through the noise. "I didn't cheat."

The auditorium doors burst open as Parker stormed out, his face dark with fury.

The dean of students and several teachers chased after him, with Triston following behind, a smug grin plastered across his face.

"Parker! Stop right there!" the dean of students yelled. "We need to get to the bottom of this!"

Parker stormed off without a backward glance.

I hurried after Parker, trotting as fast as my little legs would carry me just to keep up with his long strides.

Parker went straight to the hospital. Outside his mother's room, he took a few deep breaths to steady himself, put on a calm expression, and then walked in.

Through the crack in the door, I watched Parker force a smile at his mother. "The competition went well," he said, presenting his certificate to her.

A proud blush colored his mother's pale cheeks as she gently stroked Parker's head.

Parker smiled like a real teenager, as if the unpleasantness just now had never happened.

An hour later, the moment Parker stepped out of the hospital room, his carefully maintained composure shattered like glass.

Parker slumped onto the bench in the hallway, burying his face in his hands.

"They're accusing me of cheating in the competition," Parker murmured to me, his voice thick with suppressed fury. "Just because I was the only one in the whole school who solved the last question."

I rubbed against Parker's leg. "Triston framed me for stealing the teacher's answer key," he continued, his voice tight. "The dean's making me retake the test."

Parker lifted his head, his eyes filled with a pain I'd never seen before. "What gives them the right to doubt me?" he said, his voice raw with hurt. "Just because I'm poor and I don't have a father?"

I hopped onto the bench and butted my head firmly against Parker's arm.

Parker gradually calmed down and gently stroked my back.

"Fine, I'll retake it," Parker said at last, his jaw set. "I'm not afraid of their test."

But things weren't that simple.

The next day, Parker was summoned to Principal Terrence Schmidt's office.

I snuck after Parker, climbed up a tree outside the window, and peered in from my hidden perch.

A single sheet of paper lay on Terrence's desk, and Parker's face darkened with barely contained fury.

Parker looked straight at Principal Terrence and said firmly, "This isn't my handwriting. I've never seen this piece of paper before."

Terrence shook his head. "Parker, this is indeed the answer to the final competition question, and it was found in your desk. Now, with students testifying against you, the evidence is clear..."

"That's not my handwriting!" Parker exclaimed, his voice rising. "Someone's trying to frame me!"

"So, how do you explain this paper being found in your desk?" Terrence demanded.

Parker was left speechless. I watched as his fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists.

Just then, I noticed several crumpled pieces of paper in Principal Terrence's trash can.

One corner of a sheet peeked out, and I instantly recognized the familiar handwriting—it was Parker's.

A bold idea struck me. The moment Terrence stepped out to take a call, I sprang into action—darting through the window and heading straight for the trash can.

"Sunny?" Parker stared at me in shock. "How did you..."

I ignored him, laser-focused on digging through the trash.

Bingo! Inside were several sheets of Parker's scratch paper, completely covered with meticulous, step-by-step solutions to the competition problems. This was precisely the evidence he needed!