Thunder Punch and Exit Wounds

I stood by the snack table nursing my lukewarm papaya juice, trying to look like I belonged at Tyler's rager. The kid whose Instagram stories made every house party look like a movie set. Turns out? It was mostly awkward sophomores huddled in clusters, vape smoke clouding the ceiling, and someone's little sister's playlist on shuffle.

"Yo, you gonna stand there all night?" Maya appeared beside me, holding two Solo cups. She was gorgeous in that effortless way, hair messy, eyes bright, like she'd wandered in from a better timeline.

"I'm contemplating my exit strategy," I admitted, which was honestly brave for me. Maya Rodriguez, junior varsity soccer captain, who I'd been crushing on since September.

"Stick around." She handed me a cup. "Jake's dad has this insane cat. Supposedly it's some exotic breed, cost like three grand. It's somewhere in the house."

"Okay...?"

"It's a quest, Leo." She grinned. "Find the cat, get bragging rights. First person to Instagram it wins."

I was about to say this was possibly the stupidest game ever when lightning flashed through the sliding glass doors. Thunder rattled the windows hard enough that everyone went quiet for a split second before returning to their conversations.

"We're doing this," Maya decided, grabbing my wrist. Her skin was impossibly warm against mine.

We searched the kitchen, the laundry room, the basement. Nothing. Then we heard it—a low, mournful wail from upstairs.

"Found it," I whispered, though my heart was suddenly hammering. Tyler's room was off-limits. Everyone knew that.

Maya didn't hesitate. She pushed the door open.

And there it was. Not a cat. A bear costume. A massive, furry onesie thing, and inside it—Jake. The Jake. Senior class president, starting quarterback, the guy who'd made my freshman year miserable with one well-timed joke about my backpack. He was curled in the fetal position on his bed, phone light illuminating his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"The cat," Maya breathed, like she'd seen a ghost.

"I can't do it anymore," Jake was saying to someone on the phone. "Everyone thinks I've got it figured out but I'm literally drowning. My dad—"

Maya backed away slowly, pulling me with her. We didn't speak until we were back downstairs, outside, the storm having passed to leave everything glistening and strange.

"We didn't see anything," Maya said finally.

"Didn't see what?" I replied.

She looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time all night. "Exactly. Hey, you want to get out of here? There's this boba place downtown."

"Absolutely."

My papaya juice forgotten on the counter, I followed her into the night, the weirdness of Jake-as-a-bear fading behind us. Sometimes the most unexpected things turn out to be exactly what you need.