Orange Sky Lightning

Kiera stared at the orange vitamin gummies on her desk, the ones her mom swore would help her "focus." Yeah right. The only thing these gummy abominations helped with was making her tongue turn weird colors during third period.

"You taking those?" Maya leaned against Kiera's locker, eyebrow raised. "Heard they're supposed to fix your whole life or something."

"Hard pass," Kiera shoved them deeper in her bag. "I'd rather fail algebra than become a vitamin goblin."

Maya laughed—that laugh that made Kiera's stomach do that stupid flippy thing it always did when Maya got too close. They'd been best friends since seventh grade, but lately everything felt different. Loaded. Like walking through a room filled with lightning strikes waiting to happen.

The sky outside turned that weird orange color it got before summer storms. Kiera loved that color—how everything looked golden and dangerous at the same time.

"Party at Jordan's tonight," Maya said casually. But it wasn't casual. Nothing was casual anymore. "You coming?"

Kiera's heart hammered. Jordan's parties were where things happened. Where people hooked up, where feelings got confessed, where everything changed. She'd been wanting to go for months, but also terrified.

"I don't know—"

"Come on." Maya bumped her shoulder. "Live a little. Or at least, like, moderately exist."

Kiera snorted. "Your motivational speaking skills are terrifying."

"But effective?" Maya's eyes locked onto hers, and for a second, the hallway noise faded into background static. Lightning crackled between them—not the scary kind, the other kind. The kind that made you wonder if maybe you weren't the only one feeling everything at once.

"Fine," Kiera said, her voice barely steady. "But I'm not taking those vitamins."

Maya grinned. "Deal. Orange tongue would totally kill your vibe anyway."

Outside, the first real lightning bolt split the sky. Something told Kiera tonight was going to be electric. The good kind. The terrifying, wonderful kind that changes everything. And maybe—just maybe—she was finally ready for the strike.