Storm Chaser

The thunder cracked like God's Snapchat account got hacked.

I was hiding in Ms. Rivera's bathroom during the homecoming game, hyperventilating into my UF hoodie. Outside, the football stadium screamed. Inside, I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering why I couldn't just be normal.

Then lightning flashed through the tiny window, illuminating the dog—Ms. Rivera's ancient golden retriever, Barnaby—staring at me with zero judgment. The good boy vibe was strong with this one.

"You're not supposed to be in here," I whispered. Barnaby nudged my hand with his wet nose.

My phone buzzed. *Come back outside. Everyone's asking where you are.* It was Jenna, my best friend who actually understood social battery.

*Can't,* I typed back. *About to throw up.*

The truth: I'd taken one of those pre-workout vitamin supplements Tyler swore would "enhance performance" before track tryouts next week. My heart was racing so hard I thought I'd die before age sixteen. Rookie mistake.

Another flash of lightning. The power flickered. Barnaby whined.

"You feel it too, huh?" I scratched behind his ears. "Everything's too much."

The bathroom door swung open. Tyler stood there, looking worried. "There you are. Jenna said—"

He saw Barnaby. Then me, sitting on the tile like a lost cause.

"Did the vitamin stuff hit you hard?" Tyler asked, crouching down. "First time I tried it, I thought my heart was gonna explode."

"I can't go back out there," I admitted, my voice cracking. "Everyone's watching."

"Nah." Tyler sat on the floor next to me. Barnaby immediately flopped across his lap. "They're watching the game. And when they're not? They're worrying about how they look. Same thing you're doing."

Thunder rattled the windows.

"You're running track next week," Tyler added quietly. "You know how much people stare at runners when they're alone on that field? All eyes. But you do it anyway."

I thought about it. About being alone on the track, breathing rhythm, the wind in my ears. That was different. That was mine.

The lights stayed off. Barnaby snored.

"We can wait here," Tyler said. "Or we can run back to the party like we own the place."

I looked at the dog. At the storm outside. At Tyler, who I'd barely spoken to before tonight.

"Running sounds good," I said.

We sprinted through the rain, the lightning turning the sky purple-white, Barnaby barking at our heels. People stared when we burst into the gym soaked and breathless. But for the first time all night, I didn't care.

Some storms you chase. Some storms you run through. And sometimes, the person you thought you were isn't who you actually are at all.