She stared at me. And stared. Then…

“Are you…?” she began, then swallowed and tried again.

I waited, heart pounding fast. I wish she would just say it, to spare me from having to confess, but even just saying the name I had given myself in this day and age sounded ridiculous. Unreal. Even for her, who was a bigger nerd than I was with this sort of thing.

I didn’t PLAN on any of this happening. I didn’t plan on dying, coming back to life, and waking up with these bizarre, unnatural (amazing and wonderful) abilities.

I shouldn’t have kidded myself. She was my best friend. She was bound to find out, one way or another.

Before I “died”, she knew my ins and outs like I knew hers, before I kept sneaking out, making up all these excuses and tales that seemed to fit with my usual agenda. But every hour of every day? I suppose with her catching me in the middle of my transformation, it was in some ways like ripping off a bandaid.

So here we are, in the dim light of my bedroom, staring at one another. Her in her pajamas, and me covered in dirt, twigs, and bloody claw marks that came back with my humanity.

“Are you…?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“…D-Did you just…?”

“I did.”

“…Are you kidding me?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

She slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, still staring at me with a shocked and dazed expression. Right next to her, a small furry shape leapt right next to her. This movement alone seemed knock her out the trance. She yelped and jumped to her feet.

I darted to her side as she scrambled back, her hands raised in wide-eyed panic. She pointed at the cat.

“And what about him?” she squeaked. “Is he human, too?”

“What? No! No! Jamie…Spoof is really a cat. Always has been,” I hastily tried to assure her. Though I left out the part where he could speak to me and I can speak to him now. Even with what I’m saying, he could now follow along with us “housefolk” conversations.

“I still can’t believe you call me Spoof,” he scoffed, wrapping his tail around his paws as he narrowed his yellow eyes at me. “Tell her my real name.”

“Later,” I told him. Jamie whipped her head at me, eyes bulging.

“Are you talking to him?” she demanded.

I hesitated. I mean, really, talking to other cats had to be less shocking than being able transform into one. “Yeah,” I said. “And his real name isn’t Spoof, either. He doesn’t really like the name. He thinks it’s stupid.”

Looking at my friend now reminded me very much on how I reacted when I first woke up as a cat. The first of many surprises, aside from coming back to life.

Jamie let out a hysterical laugh. Shaking her head, running her hands over her short pink-dyed hair, cussing her her breath, she finally turned to me, a bit less freaked out. “So, what…Are you Catwoman?”

“Not exactly…” Was that even legal, stealing a comic book vigilante’s name? Not that I blame her for thinking so. There were some similarities to my new life in comparison, and yet…Catwoman never shapeshifter into her surnamed creature, didn’t she?

“But you can talk to cats! You can freaking change into one! Wait…Can you change into other animals, too? Like some kind of Druid from DnD?”

“Nope, just a cat.” I paused, tucking a strand of hair behind my hair. “It was because I saved by one. A dead one.”

“A dead one? Hold on! I need to sit down.” She sat the edge of the bed again. I sat down with her. “Start from the beginning. Who—and what-exactly are you?”

I took a deep breath. No going back now.

I started from the beginning, and told her who I am.