Thunder In My Bones - Every Minute a Story

The cabin was dead silent, which only made it worse. I could hear everything—the creak of floorboards, the whisper of wind against the windows, and most importantly, the sound of everyone else asleep except me. Another sleepless night, another racing mind that wouldn't shut up about cross country regionals next week.

Coach had been on my case all season. "You've got lightning in those legs, Maya," he'd say after every practice, but my legs didn't feel electric anymore. They felt heavy, like I'd been running through waist-deep mud instead of on the school track.

I grabbed my phone, needing to see something that wasn't the ceiling. Three unread messages from Jordan.

My heart did that stupid fluttery thing it always did when his name popped up. Jordan Nguyen, who I'd been crushing on since seventh grade, who I'd somehow convinced to join cross country this year even though he complained the entire time about "his joints" and "early mornings." The same Jordan who was currently driving over in the middle of the night because he knew I was spiraling again.

I crept downstairs in my socks, easing the front door open just as the first rumble of thunder rolled across the valley. Jordan's car was already pulled into our driveway, engine off, headlights cutting through the darkness.

"You're actually going to run?" he asked, stepping out into the damp air. "It's literally about to pour."

"That's kind of the point." I pulled my hair into a ponytail, hands shaking slightly. "I need to feel something that's not this panic attack that's been following me around for three days straight."

We took off toward the trail behind my house—Jordan's long stride easily matching mine. The air tasted like rain and pine needles, thick and electric. My legs started remembering what it felt like to really run, not just to survive practice.

Then I saw it.

A massive black bear emerged from the trees ahead, framed by a sudden flash of lightning that turned the whole world white for a heartbeat. It froze, watching us with dark intelligent eyes. My breath hitched. Jordan grabbed my arm, pulling me backward slowly.

"Maya," he whispered. "Don't run."

But my legs had other ideas. Everything in me was screaming to bolt, to move, to do something besides stand there frozen. Then I looked at the bear again—really looked. It wasn't aggressive. It was just existing, same as us, just trying to navigate the world and whatever storm was rolling in.

"It's okay," I breathed out, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "We're not threats."

We stood there for what felt like forever but was probably thirty seconds. The bear snuffed the air, then turned and loped back into the forest, unconcerned. The first drops of rain started falling, big and heavy.

"That was insane," Jordan said, but he was grinning. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I laughed, a real laugh for the first time in days. "Actually, I think I'm good."

We ran back to my house in the downpour, soaking wet and terrified and completely alive. My legs remembered what lightning felt like. My mind had finally shut up about everything except the present moment. And Jordan reached over and squeezed my hand, just once, before we ducked onto my porch.

"Regionals next week," he said, dripping water on my welcome mat. "You're gonna crush it."

"Yeah," I said, breathing hard, feeling everything and nothing all at once. "I think I might."