Storm Chaser

The vitamin C sat on my tongue like a judgment — my mom's parting gift before I'd even left the house. "You need your immune system, Maya," she'd said, as if a chewable orange tablet could protect me from Jackson Harper's basement party.

I swallowed it anyway.

The basement smelled like Axe body spray and nervous energy. Someone had spilled something sticky near the makeshift dance floor. I stood against the wall, clutching my phone like it was a lifeline, watching everyone else pretend they knew how to do this.

Then I saw her.

A girl with hair the color of a sunset and moves that made everyone else look stiff. She moved through the crowd like a fox through tall grass — effortless, clever, completely untouchable. I'd seen her in the halls. Sam. She was a junior, maybe, which made her basically ancient.

"You look like you're calculating escape routes," she said, suddenly beside me.

I jumped. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to fellow escape artists." She grinned. "I'm Sam."

"Maya."

"Nice to meet you, Maya. Want to get some air?"

Outside, the humidity wrapped around us like a heavy blanket. The sky had turned that bruised purple color that comes right before everything breaks loose.

"My goldfish died yesterday," I blurted out. Why did I say that? I hadn't even liked the goldfish. It had been my brother's, anyway. "His name was Captain Fin. We flushed him down the toilet."

Sam didn't laugh. "That's rough. Funerals are important, even for fish."

"It's just — I don't know why I said that."

"Maybe you needed to say something true." She looked up at the sky. "It's gonna be bad."

"The storm?"

"Yeah. But also everything. Freshman year, you know? It's a lot."

Lightning cracked across the sky, sudden and sharp as a broken promise. For a second, the whole backyard turned white.

"I'm terrified," I admitted. "Of high school. Of getting it wrong. Of — "

"Of not being ready?" Sam finished. She took something from her pocket — a orange vitamin bottle. "My mom makes me carry these. Says growth spurts don't happen on their own."

She handed me one. A vitamin D, shaped like a tiny football.

"We're all just pretending," she said. "But you don't have to pretend alone."

The first fat raindrop hit my nose. Then another. Soon we were both getting soaked, not running, just standing there while the sky opened up.

"My mom's gonna kill me," I said.

"Mine too," Sam laughed. "But at least we'll be immune system ready."

The storm had broken, but somehow, I wasn't scared anymore. Some things you can't prepare for with vitamins. Some things you just have to let hit you, and trust that someone will be standing there getting wet too.