Charged

Maya's heart hammered against her ribs as she scrambled down the grassy slope behind the rec center. Rain plastered her hair to her forehead, but none of that mattered. Her iphone had slipped from her pocket somewhere between the fence and the old oak tree where Jordan was waiting—except Jordan wasn't talking to her anymore.

"You dropped this."

Maya spun around. Jordan stood there holding her phone, orange hoodie pulled up against the drizzle. The hoodie Maya had bought them for matching birthdays last year, back when "best friends forever" actually meant something instead of just a ghost in their group chat history.

"Thanks." Maya reached for it, but Jordan didn't let go.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jordan's voice cracked. "About moving."

The question hit harder than any test score. Maya's parents had dropped the bomb three days ago—new state, new school, start junior year somewhere else. She'd been drowning in the weight of it, convinced that saying it out loud would make it real.

"I don't know." Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating Jordan's hurt expression. "I guess I thought if I ignored it, maybe everything wouldn't change."

"Everything's already changed, Maya." Jordan shoved the phone into her hand. "You ghosting me? That changed things."

Maya's throat tightened. She stared at her cracked screen, the lock screen showing them both at the beach last summer, grinning with orange creamsicles melting down their arms. That version of themselves felt like a lifetime ago.

"I'm sorry," Maya whispered. "I just—I couldn't figure out how to be your friend when I was leaving. It felt like lying."

Jordan's expression softened. "So you just... stopped? That's your big move?"

"No." Maya swallowed hard. "I don't want to stop. I just don't know how to keep going when I'll be three states away."

"Facetime exists, you know." Jordan managed a tiny smile. "Unless your phone takes another swan dive."

Another lightning strike, closer this time. They both jumped, then laughed—the weird, ugly laugh that happens when you're scared and relieved all at once.

"Scared?" Maya asked.

"Terrified." Jordan bumped her shoulder. "But storms pass, right?"

"Yeah." Maya gripped her phone tighter. "They always do."

And somewhere in that electric darkness, between thunder and the promise of rain slowing down, Maya figured it out. Friendships weren't about staying the same. They were about showing up, even when everything was changing—even when you were scared of the lightning.