Storm Season

The first day of junior year, I decided this would be the year I finally stopped being invisible. Then reality hit—literally—when I ran smack into Marcus Reed in the hallway, my notebooks flying everywhere like paper birds.

"Sorry, I was—" I started scrambling for my stuff.

"Running like the devil's chasing you," he finished, flashing that smile that made half the school forget their own names. He helped me gather my Chemistry notes. "New here?"

"No. Just... usually invisible."

His eyebrows went up. "Well, you're definitely visible now."

That should've been my moment. Instead, I spent the next three weeks developing a sophisticated plan: become friends with his friend group, slowly integrate, eventually land at his birthday party next month. Flawless, except for the part where I'd never actually spoken to any of them.

The universe decided to help—or sabotage—when the August storm season turned our town into something apocalyptic. I was walking home under clouds that looked bruised and angry when the first drops hit. Then came the lightning, cracking the sky open like God was taking photos.

I ducked under the bus stop shelter, already soaking wet. And there was a cat—a ragged orange tabby—hissing at nothing, terrified of the storm booming around us.

"Hey, hey, you're okay," I whispered, slowly reaching out. It hesitated, then pressed against my leg, purring through its fear.

"Never pegged you for a cat person."

I jumped. Marcus stood there, drenched, his varsity jacket useless against this downpour.

"She's scared," I said, like that explained everything.

"Yeah, storms'll do that." He crouched beside me, and the cat head-butted his hand like they were old friends. "You live on Oak, right? My car's nearby—we can give her a ride home, assuming she has one."

"She's a stray. Found her behind the school last week. I've been leaving food but—" I stopped. "You've seen me?"

"Everyone sees you, Lena." He looked at me, water dripping from his hair. "You just think we don't."

Something in my chest did that thing where it feels too big for your ribcage.

We spent the next hour driving around with a cat on my lap, looking for someone willing to take her. No luck. By the time we reached my driveway, the storm had passed, leaving everything washed clean and new.

"So," Marcus said, killing the engine. "About that party next weekend."

"Yeah?"

"You should come. Bring the cat if you want—my sister's obsessed."

"I might just do that."

Later that night, I lay in bed listening to the distant thunder, already planning my outfit, already wondering if this was what people meant by swimming through the awkward parts until you found something real. The orange cat—now officially named Bolt—curled up at my feet, and I fell asleep thinking invisible wasn't who I was anymore.