The Message in the Orange

Maya's iPhone was her third hand, her diary, her entire social life. So when it slipped from her grip during lunch and landed face-down in Mr. Harrison's pond during the sophomore class field trip, she thought her world had ended.

She stared at the ripples, heart hammering like someone was playing drums on her chest. The pond was murky, home to two ancient goldfish that Mr. Harrison swore were older than the school itself. Bubbles and Fin. They were the school's unofficial mascots, and now they were guarding her iPhone like it was some lost treasure.

"You're not reaching in there," said Leo, sliding onto the bench beside her. He was the kind of cute that made girls suddenly remember they needed to tie their shoes, and he was currently wearing an orange hoodie that made his brown eyes look like melted chocolate.

Maya hadn't talked to Leo all year, even though they'd been math partners since seventh grade. Her friends thought he was "low-key cute but weirdly quiet." Maya thought he was just Leo.

"My entire life is in that pond," she said, feeling pathetic. "My mom will literally kill me. It's the third phone this year."

Leo reached into his backpack and pulled out a net. Like, an actual fish net. "I come here sometimes during lunch. Mr. Harrison lets me feed them." He gave her a half-smile. "I've been trying to catch Bubbles for three weeks. She's sneakier than she looks."

They sat there for twenty minutes, Leo sweeping the net through the murky water while Maya's phone buzzed with incoming notifications she couldn't answer. Her friends were probably wondering where she was. Jake from chem might finally be texting her back. But somehow, watching Leo's shoulders work under that orange hoodie, she didn't mind as much as she should have.

Thunder rumbled.

"Storm's coming," Leo said, sweeping the net one last time. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she agreed, and something about the way he looked at her made her stomach feel the way it did before roller coasters.

Then lightning struck—actual lightning, flash of white-purple that split the sky and made everyone on the far side of the pond scream. The goldfish scattered. Leo's net caught something.

He pulled it up, dripping and triumphant.

Her iPhone. Still vibrating with notifications.

"Trade you," he said, holding out the phone with his other hand. "You give me your number. For real this time. Not just for math homework."

The goldfish swam beneath them, oblivious. Her iPhone blinked to life. And Leo in his orange hoodie was waiting for an answer to something that had nothing to do with phones and everything to do with the way lightning changes the landscape in a single flash.

Maya took her phone. "Deal," she said, and they walked back to school as the first raindrops fell.