Maisie reached forward and plucked the TV remote off the table when Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue’s credits popped up. She stayed quiet because Feya had fallen asleep and rested her head on the couch’s top.

        Milo batted the remote and said, “Mrow.”

        Maisie placed her finger to her lips, “Shh,” and pointed at Feya.

        “Mrow,” Milo repeated, softer that time.

        Maisie booted him off the couch and removed the pink blanket from her lap. She tossed it over Feya, careful not to cover Daisy, and stood. She and Milo slipped into Maisie’s room.

        Maisie cracked the door, picked up Chase Me on her bed, and sat, pressing her back on the wall.

        Milo hopped up with her, catnip mouse in mouth, and played while she read—although it looked like he tried to grab Maisie’s attention.

        She flipped to the next page and scratched his head. Maisie almost played with him, but then she heard Feya.

        “Maisie! Maisie!”

        “Feya?” The book dropped from Maisie’s hands and bounced onto the floor. With Milo at her heels, she rushed into the apartment’s common room.

        Feya, sweating profusely, clutched her left leg and placed her brow on her knee.

        On instinct, Maisie ripped her phone from her pocket. “What’s wrong?”

        “It hurts!” Feya sobbed.

        “Okay, that’s it.” Maisie pulled up 911. “If you don’t take off that prosthetic right now, I’m calling EMS.”

        “No!” Maisie swore Feya’s head almost flew off with how fast she raised it. “I don’t need EMS, Maisie. I just want you here with me until it stops hurting.”

        “Trust me, girl—removing the prosthetic will help.”

        “But it’s ugly!”

        “It’s just us. No one else.” Maisie lowered her phone. “Feya, please, I can’t watch you do this to yourself. Look, even Daisy agrees.”

        Daisy placed her paw on Feya’s wrist. Hurt and fear were present on her face.

        “I don’t need EMS, Maisie,” Feya repeated. “I can do this.”

        Maisie crossed her arms. “Is this about the day I saw the prosthetic?”

        Feya released her leg. “You judged me.”

        “No, I didn’t. I was just shocked. I saw my brother when I saw it, but I don’t anymore. I see a girl who can’t do this alone.” Maisie gripped one of the bar’s chairs. “Feya, please, take it off—at least for tonight. I won’t judge you.”

        She gulped. “Promise?”

        “I promise. The Five Keys, remember?”

        She didn’t move for a little longer, but eventually, Feya pressed the release button at the top of her prosthetic.

        To prepare for the pending shock, Maisie scooped up Milo.

        Hands shaking, Feya detached and set her prosthesis on the floor beside her.

        There was the shock Maisie expected. She almost cried seeing Feya’s stump for her upper thigh but inhaled. “Does that feel better?”

        She didn’t answer and grasped her stump.

        Maisie drew closer. “Don’t shut me out. Please.” Did Milo glare at her?

        “Yes, Maisie,” Feya finally said. “It does feel better.”

        By then, Maisie knew she had done something right.

***

        The next few training days went by relatively quickly. They distracted Maisie from painful memories, her concerns for Feya, and the fact that Milo had started avoiding her. She knew why, so whenever she had downtime at Sports, she researched adoptable cats in the area. Maisie owed Milo another trip to PetSmart.

        Thursday was her first public areas training day. She was Trash 1 Tuesday (Buildings 7, 8, 9, and 10) and Recycle (all buildings) Wednesday. Maisie still sucked at the trailer (the compactor tipper was even worse), but at least she didn’t cry in front of Natacha again. She was training her in the Surfboard Bay Pool today. That would be fun, considering how hot it was and that Sports was now at 95% occupancy.

        Natacha pointed out the Surf Pool keys in the tracker, removed them, and handed them to Maisie. “Pool doesn’t open until 10:00,” she explained, “so we start with laundry room.” She showed Maisie the back of the Surf phone and gestured at the Custodial tasks taped there.

        Maisie carefully read them because she still didn’t understand Natacha’s accent all that well.

        “Wave is at 8:30,” she continued, “so we go after laundry room.”

        Maisie had heard of the Wave but had yet to attend one. It was when the Custodial team went to the bus stop, played music, and danced for the Guests as their way of enacting the Five Keys. Maisie was curious to see what one looked like, so she tried her best to keep up with Natacha.

        She kept her phone in case Feya texted and followed her outside to the Food Court. They passed it, the large, wave-shaped Surf Pool, and approached the Surf’s Up laundry room. In it were six washers, and driers filled the back wall. Only one person was in there at the moment.

        “Good morning,” Natacha said, smiling. She gave Maisie a friendly look and nudged her.

        “Oh.” Maisie faced the Guest. “Good morning.” That was the first step with the Courtesy Key, but it was hard to be courteous when Maisie feared for Feya.

        She said she started taking off the prosthetic at night, but Maisie didn’t believe it because Feya’s stumbling was worsening. However, if she wanted to be stubborn, that was her problem—not Maisie’s. Tough love felt awful for a girl who had been through so much, but Feya had to learn her lesson.

        Natacha unlocked the Custodial closet in the far corner of the laundry room and handed Maisie a few blue and green rags and an extra picker. “Watch,” she said, approaching the upper dryer next to the closet. “First, we check lint tray.” She released it, scraped off the extra lint, and dumped it into the laundry’s trash can.

        “Training?” the Guest in the laundry room inquired, moving her clothes from the washer to the dryer.

        “Yes, ma’am,” Maisie shyly answered.

        “CP, I’m assuming?” The woman patted the stone counter in the room’s heart.

        “Yes, ma’am.” It was becoming easier to talk to her. Perhaps Maisie was making progress after all.

        The Wave started at precisely 8:30. Thank goodness. Maisie didn’t need another review of PathoClean and PathoCide, the main chemicals used by Housekeeping/Custodial. She only required PathoClean for the Surf Pool, anyway.

        Natacha led her to the bus stop, where they met with Han and the rest of the AM Custodial team. Han had set a glowing speaker on one of the trash cans, and a box of Disney accessories was behind it.

        “Eh, Maisie!” Han rested his hand on top of the speaker’s volume button. “Ready for your first Wave?”

        “What do I do?” Maisie’s eyes landed on the box.

        “Grab an accessory, and smile and wave at Guests.” Han bounced his knees with the speaker’s upbeat music. “It’s easy.”

        That was what they always said, but Maisie tried it.

        She propped her picker on one of All-Star Sports’s letters and grabbed a Mickey glove from the box. Maisie slipped it over her left hand and observed the other Cast Members for the first few minutes. Before long, she jumped in herself.

        Wow! Maisie did not expect to enjoy the Wave as much as she did. She was a horrible dancer, but her team and the Guests never minded. Like Han said, she smiled and waved at the Guests.

        The diversity was insane! There were older couples, younger ones, queer couples, and people in wheelchairs. Even the oldest Guests wore Mickey ears and danced with Maisie’s team. A few people high-foured her Mickey glove.

        Maisie nearly lost her mind when “Hoedown Throwdown” played from the speaker. Her childhood Hannah Montana obsession escaped her stressed self, but at least she wasn’t the only one who danced and sang to the iconic song.

        “Pop it! Lock it! Polka dot it! Country fivin’, hip hop hip. Put your hawk in the sky, move side to side, jump to the left, stick it, glide.”

        The Custodial team and a group of Guests joined in for the chorus. “Zig zag, `cross the floor, shuffle in diagonal. When the drum hits, hands on your hips. One foot in, 180 twist. And then a zig zag, step’n slide. Lean in left to clap three times. Shake it out, head to toe. Throw it all together; that’s how we roll.”

        “There you go!” Han cheered, gesturing at Maisie and the Guests.

        “Well done, sweetie!” Natacha patted Maisie’s back. “Not bad for first Wave. Are you having fun?”

        Was she? Maisie never felt better! She finally felt like she belonged—at Sports with her Custodial friends. For the first time, she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.