Orange Lightning Strikes Back

Maya's **orange** Converses squeaked against the gym floor—way too loud for someone trying to be invisible. First week of sophomore year, and she was already failing at blending in. Her natural **hair** refused to behave, exploding in frizzy coils that somehow attracted attention despite her best efforts to hide under hoodies.

Then she saw him: Liam, track star, currently **running** laps like his life depended on it. Maya had been secretly crushing since that awkward moment in bio when he'd dropped his pencil and she'd practically tripped over herself retrieving it.

Her sister's **dog**, Buster, had better social skills than she did. At least Buster didn't overthink every interaction or replay conversations in the shower until 2 AM.

"You should join track," Liam said, suddenly beside her, sweat dripping like he'd just emerged from a lake. "You've got good form."

Maya's brain short-circuited like **lightning** had struck her frontal lobe. "What? I was just—"

"Running. You're always running after school. I see you." His grin was unfairly cute. "We need distance runners. District meet's in three weeks."

The old Maya would've mumbled something about being busy and disappeared. But something about the way he said it—not mocking, actually interested—made her hear herself respond: "Maybe?"

That "maybe" changed everything. Three weeks later, Maya stood at the starting line, heart pounding like a bass drum, her orange Converses replaced with actual spikes. Her hair was still frizzy, still uncontainable, but she'd stopped hiding it.

"Good luck, Frizzy Girl," Liam called from the sidelines.

Maya grinned. Her lightning moment had arrived—and she was done being invisible.