Storm Chaser

The air tasted like ozone and impending doom. Perfect for a Friday night.

"You're not seriously going back there, are you?" Maya asked, clutching her phone like a lifeline. "That bull practically killed you yesterday."

I ignored her, already heading toward the old Anderson barn behind my neighborhood. They'd brought in a new bull—massive, black, with horns that could probably impale a Honda. And yeah, he'd charged at me when I'd wandered too close to his fence like an idiot. But I'd seen something else too. Something that made my chest tight.

The sky turned that bruised purple color. First flash of lightning streaked across the horizon, close enough that the hair on my arms stood up.

"I saw someone in there," I said quietly. "Snooping around."

"A spy?" Maya snorted. "It's probably just TJ messing around."

"No." I swallowed. "They had a camera. They were taking pictures of the bull's papers, the breeding certificates or whatever. Mr. Anderson keeps everything in that tack room."

Maya finally followed, grumbling the whole way. The wind picked up, whipping hair across my face. The barn loomed ahead, weathered wood glowing faintly in the darkness.

There. A flashlight beam flickered inside.

My heart hammered. I'd grown up thinking life in our small town was boring, predictable. Now I was about to—what? Confront a criminal? This wasn't some YA novel where I'd discover secret powers or solve a mystery with my quirky best friends.

"Who's there?" I called out, voice betraying me.

The flashlight died. Lightning flashed simultaneously, illuminating a figure crouched over the desk. For a split second, I saw it clearly—

"Megan?" The word escaped before I could stop it.

The girl from my English class. The one who'd transferred mid-semester, sat in the back, always looked at me when she thought I wouldn't notice.

The storm broke. Rain sheets came down, drowning out everything. We all scrambled under the barn's overhang, huddled close. The bull snorted from his nearby pen, unimpressed by our drama.

"You're not going to tell, are you?" Megan's voice trembled. "My dad's the regional manager for that cattle association. He's supposed to audit Mr. Anderson's records next week. I just wanted to—"

"Spy for your dad?" I finished, weirdly betrayed. "Seriously?"

"I wanted to see the famous bull everyone talks about," she shot back, embarrassed. "And then I saw the paperwork was a mess, and I thought—"

"You thought you'd fix it?" Maya snorted. "Classic Megan."

Another lightning strike. The three of us stood there, dripping wet, while a bull judged us from twenty feet away.

"Worst Friday ever," I said.

But I caught Megan's smile in the next flash. And maybe it wasn't the worst after all.