Storm Secrets

Maya's older sister was the spy. Not like, cool spy with gadgets—more like she spied on everyone's drama and weaponized it at breakfast. But tonight, Maya was doing the spying.

Thunder cracked the Florida sky like someone dropped a massive plate. Lightning flashed across her bedroom window, illuminating the worst possible moment: Tyler messaging her on Insta.

*Hey*

Just *hey*. No punctuation. No emoji. Nothing.

Maya's cat Luna jumped onto her desk, nearly knocking over her phone. Luna had this sixth sense about chaos. Like she knew Maya was spiraling.

"You're literally no help," Maya muttered, scratching behind Luna's ears. The cat purred like a tiny engine.

At school tomorrow, everyone would know. Kaitlyn (her sister, the FBI agent of social ruin) would definitely find out. And then Tyler—beautiful, confusing Tyler who'd been giving her mixed signals since September—would know Maya had spent forty-five minutes overthinking a three-letter message.

The storm got worse. Rain drummed against her window like nervous fingers.

Her phone buzzed again. *Are you awake?*

Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to organs. She stared at her palm, sweat-slicked from gripping her phone too hard. The lines there looked like a map to nowhere, which felt accurate for her entire life right now.

Luna nudged her hand. Maya typed back: *yeah*

*Storm's crazy*

*for real*

The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Then: *I like your vibe, Maya*

She nearly dropped her phone. Luna meowed indignantly.

*your vibe??* Maya typed, hands shaking.

*you know. your vibe. it's chill.*

Outside, lightning struck somewhere close, making the whole house shudder. In her palm, Maya's phone felt like it was glowing. Maybe this was what growing up felt like—not some big dramatic moment, just small electricity in the dark. Her sister could spy all she wanted tomorrow. Tonight, Maya had her own secrets.