Stormbound, chapter 1
This series has moved to Kindle Vella.
Stepping out of the shower, steam swirls around me like a warm embrace. I grab my towel and wrap it around myself before heading back to my locker. As I reach for my clothes, my heart sinks — someone’s been through my stuff. My neatly folded shirt and jeans are now crumpled in disarray.
Dressed as quickly as possible, I rummage through my backpack, hoping against hope that my necklace is still there. It’s not just any necklace; it’s a small silver charm in the shape of a lightning bolt on a leather strap. The bolt shimmers in even the dimmest light, reminding me of my mom and our shared passion for meteorology.
But the necklace isn’t there. I remember Felicity joking about it during recess, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Why leather? Can’t you just steal another silver chain from Hot Topic?” I can feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger all over again.
I clench my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. It’s not fair. That necklace means everything to me, and Felicity knows it. I hate how small I feel when she talks to me like that, like I’m nothing but dirt beneath her polished boots. But I won’t let her win this time. I refuse to let her keep something that belongs to me, something that belonged to my mom.
Storming out of the locker room, I spot Felicity and her posse near the water fountains. Their perfect makeup and fast fashion clothes are a stark contrast to my outfit. My heart races as I march towards them.
“Give it back, Felicity!” I shout, my hands balling into fists at my sides.
“Aw, what’s wrong?” Felicity snickers, twirling my necklace between her fingers like it’s worthless. “Missing this piece of junk?” She pretends to drop it into the drain, and I lunge forward with a strangled cry.
“Please,” I plead, desperation making my voice break. “Give it back.”
“Or what?” she taunts, her eyes glinting with cruelty.
I struggle to hold back tears of frustration. I just want this to be over — I can’t lose that necklace. The other girls giggle and whisper behind their hands, their gazes flicking between my worn-out sneakers and my hand-me-down jeans. Every pointed look feels like a slap to the face.
“Give it back, Felicity,” I repeat, trying to sound brave, even though I feel like I’m shrinking under their collective disdain.
“Wow, you’re so pathetic.” Felicity’s words sting like a thousand tiny needles. “No wonder nobody likes you.”
My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over. I take a deep breath and try to steady myself, unwilling to let them see how much their words hurt. The injustice of it all weighs heavily on my chest. Why should they get everything handed to them while I struggle day after day?
Their laughter echoes through the hallway like nails on a chalkboard, making my cheeks burn with humiliation. I can’t bring myself to look away from Felicity’s sneering face, even as her friends’ giggles and snide whispers cut deep.
“Aw, what’s the matter?” Felicity coos mockingly, her cold blue eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Can’t handle the truth about your Walmart wardrobe?”
I bite my lip, fighting back tears as I take in the scene before me. The popular girls stand tall, their designer bags dangling from their wrists and their perfectly styled hair cascading down their backs. They seem untouchable, like they’re living in a world that I can never be a part of.
“Please,” I whisper again, hating how small and pathetic I sound. “It belonged to my mom.”
Felicity smirks, clearly enjoying the power she holds over me. She twirls the necklace around her finger, drawing out my agony for just a little longer. My heart pounds in my chest, and I have to force myself to breathe.
“Your mom must’ve had awful taste too, then. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Her mom is dead, you bitch!” Hannah suddenly appears beside me, her face flushed with anger. I’m surprised but grateful for her support.
“Really, Hannah? God, you’re so basic. The Mitchells must have adopted you — how else could you be related to Bryan?”
“Yo, Bryan! Your sis is getting into a fight!” one of the football jocks yells from down the hall. A group of them stand there, their muscular forms towering over us, grinning at the spectacle. Their laughter echoes through the hallway, adding fuel to the fire that rages inside me.
“Great, just what we need,” I mutter under my breath. My heart races, adrenaline surging through my veins as I prepare for whatever comes next.
The jocks saunter over like a pack of wolves ready to feed on my humiliation. Broad shoulders and smug grins define their presence, their varsity jackets a symbol of their superiority at school. As they approach, their laughter intensifies, each jeer cutting deeper than the last. My heartbeat quickens, and I can’t help but feel small and vulnerable once again.
“Come on, guys, leave her alone,” Bryan says, stepping forward. He shoots me a sympathetic look, and my stomach flutters despite the situation. It’s hard not to notice how his dark hair falls in front of his deep blue eyes, making him even more attractive.
“Aw, poor little Ashley,” one jock mocks, making a sad face as he pretends to wipe away a tear. “Can’t handle the big, bad cheerleading squad?”
“Shut up,” I mumble, clenching my fists at my sides.
“Ooh, feisty,” another jock chimes in, nudging Bryan with an elbow. “Maybe she’s got some fight in her after all.”
“Enough,” Bryan snaps, glaring at his teammates. “Just leave her be.”
Their laughter dies down, replaced by awkward shuffling and mumbled apologies. I watch as they retreat, leaving me standing with Bryan. The silence between us feels heavy, like there’s so much left unsaid. I know I should thank him for stepping in, but the words just won’t come out.
“Are you okay?” he finally asks, his voice gentle and sincere.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, thanks,” I say quietly, finally meeting his gaze.
“Good.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just remember, you’re stronger than you think.”
I can’t breathe, watching Bryan as he strides towards Felicity and her group of giggling followers. As he approaches them, the laughter fades, replaced by the sound of nervous shuffling and the sight of blushing cheeks. I notice how they all suddenly become preoccupied with their hair, tucking strands behind ears and smoothing out non-existent frizz.
“Give Ashley her necklace back, Felicity,” Bryan says calmly, his voice firm but not unkind. His eyes remain locked on Felicity’s, refusing to waver.
Felicity glares at him, clearly taken aback by his interference. The other girls glance between them, unsure of what to do or say. In that moment, I realize Bryan does not know the effect he’s having on them — or me.
Felicity’s eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a tight line. “What’s it to you if little miss trailer park gets her trinket back?” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest.
Bryan doesn’t even blink at the venom in her words. Instead, he calmly holds out his hand, palm up, waiting for her to give in. I watch as a multitude of emotions play across Felicity’s face — anger, confusion, and finally, a pout that looks so out of place on someone who usually exudes confidence.
“Fine,” she huffs, dropping the necklace into Bryan’s open hand with a look of disdain. “I guess I’ll have to get my own, out of a gumball machine.”
“Play nice, Felicity,” Bryan says sternly, his eyes boring into hers before he turns away from her and makes his way over to me.
My heart races as he approaches, and I can’t help but fidget with my fingers, unsure of what to say or do. He stops right in front of me, offering a small smile as he hands me the necklace.
“Here you go, Ash.” Bryan’s voice is gentle as he hands me the necklace. The silver lightning bolt charm glints in the sunlight, and I can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my fingers trembling slightly as I take it from him. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
“Hey, no need to thank me.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, trying to break the ice. “Hannah would empty Mr. Kibble’s litter box into my bed if I didn’t help.”
Despite the turmoil inside, I manage a weak laugh. He’s joking, but I know there’s truth behind his words; Hannah has always been fiercely protective of me. Even as gratitude warms my chest, my heart sinks just a little. I realize for the millionth time that Bryan will never see me as a possible romantic partner. To him, I’m just the little lost pet Hannah adopted, and that she brings over for dinner now and then.
“Anyway, I should get going.” He gives me one more reassuring glance before walking away, and I’m left standing there, clutching the necklace and feeling more invisible than ever.
As I watch him join his friends, all effortlessly cool and confident, I can’t help but compare myself to them. Their perfect clothes, perfect haircuts, perfect smiles… If only I could be like that, maybe things would be different. Maybe Bryan would notice me for more than just being Hannah’s friend.
But that’s not who I am. I’m Ashley — the girl with frizzy hair, hand-me-down clothes, and worn-out sneakers. The girl who finds solace in weather patterns instead of gossip and shopping malls. And no matter how much I try to change, I can’t escape that truth.
So I stand there, feeling smaller by the minute, and watch as the distance between us grows.
The bell’s shrill ring echoes through the halls, snapping me out of my daze. As if on autopilot, I gather my things and make my way back to class, still clutching the necklace in my hand. The air is heavy with the scent of chalk dust and the murmur of students discussing the recent drama.
“Are you alright?” Hannah appears beside me, her brow furrowed with concern as she takes in my shaken expression.
“Fine,” I lie, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m fine.”
She tilts her head, not buying it. “You don’t look fine.” Her eyes flicker to the necklace in my hand before returning to meet mine. “Did your dad say he’s working late again?”
I shrug, not having checked my text messages yet.
“Come over for dinner,” she offers, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “My mom’s making her famous lasagna.”
A part of me longs to accept, but the thought of spending an evening at the Mitchell house — where Bryan might walk into the room at any moment — makes my heart race for all the wrong reasons.
“Thanks, but I can’t,” I say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m doing my first ‘meals on wheels’ deliveries tonight. Mrs. Martin hooked me up, it will look good on college applications.”
Hannah’s gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but she nods. “Alright, just let me know if you change your mind.”
“Will do.” I manage another weak smile before we part ways, each heading to our respective classes.
As I settle into my seat, my thoughts drift back to Bryan — the easy grin on his face, the way he’d effortlessly come to my defense. It’s maddening how someone so far out of my reach can feel so close at the same time.
But that’s the thing about crushes, I guess. They sneak up on you and wrap themselves around your heart, squeezing until it feels like you can’t breathe. And no matter how hard you try to untangle the knot, it only seems to tighten its grip.
I sigh, wishing for once that my thoughts could quiet down as easily as a school bell.
My fingers drum rhythmically on the desk as Mrs. Carter dives into today’s physics lesson. She scribbles equations on the whiteboard, explaining how air pressure differences and temperature gradients can create powerful storms. Her enthusiasm is usually contagious, but my mind drifts to the necklace resting against my collarbone — my mother’s necklace, now safely back where it belongs.
“Living in Tornado Alley,” Mrs. Carter says, waving a hand at the board, “it’s important for all of you to understand weather phenomena.”
I nod, attempting to absorb her words, but my focus shatters when my old Android phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s an outdated model. The screen cracked in two different corners — a constant reminder of how little money my dad spends on anything beyond the necessities.
“Miss Hayate,” Mrs. Carter warns, eying me with disapproval.
“Sorry, Mrs. Carter,” I mumble, silencing my phone. I glance at the screen, seeing a message from Dad: “Working late again. Doordash dinner.”
“K,” I text back, my disappointment growing.
It’s frustrating, feeling like my dad prioritizes work over our relationship. I know he’s trying to provide for us, especially after Mom passed away, but sometimes it feels like he’s just avoiding spending time with me.
Resigned, I refocus on the lesson, letting Mrs. Carter’s words wash over me like raindrops on a stormy day.
The last bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. I gather my books and sling my backpack over my shoulder, bracing myself for the walk home. Dad won’t be there when I arrive, but his absence is nothing new. He always seems to have more important things to do than spend time with me.
Stepping outside, the afternoon sun casts a warm glow on my face as I make my way along the familiar route. The sidewalk beneath my feet looks cracked and worn, lined with trees that create dappled shadows that dance around me. The sound of children playing in their front yards fills the air, and I can’t help but envy their simple happiness. My thoughts drift back to the confrontation with Felicity and the humiliating scene in front of Bryan. Why does she have to make everything so difficult?
I pass by the local park, where some kids are playing soccer. The laughter and cheers only remind me of how alone I feel — how different I am from everyone else. I wish I could just blend in like them, be popular and well-liked. Instead, I’m stuck being the weird girl with the Walmart clothes and the obsession with weather.
I shake my head, trying to push away the negative thoughts. There’s no point dwelling on it now. What’s done is done, and at least I got my necklace back. I should be thankful for minor victories in my life.
But my heart still feels heavy as I think about Dad, working late again, choosing his job over spending time with his only daughter. Does he even realize how much it hurts me? Or is he just too wrapped up in his own world to notice?
Taking the long way home, I detour through the cemetery. I take in the familiar scent of damp earth and cut grass as I walk past the cemetery gates, seeking solace in a place that’s always felt like home. The rows of tombstones, some standing tall and proud while others lean with age, form a somber procession leading to my destination.
Approaching my mother’s grave, the sight of the small tree I planted all those years ago tugs at my heart. I reach out to touch its sturdy trunk, feeling the rough bark beneath my fingertips. It’s grown so much since we first placed it here, just like me.
“Hey, Mom,” I say softly, kneeling beside her tombstone. “It’s been a rough day.”
I spill out everything that happened; Felicity’s cruel taunts, how she stole my necklace, and Bryan coming to my rescue. As I speak, the memories play out behind my eyes and the sting of humiliation is fresh once again.
“Sometimes I feel so… invisible,” I confess, my voice cracking. “Like no one really sees me for who I am. I know you used to tell me to be strong, but it’s just so hard sometimes.”
The wind whispers through the leaves above, and for a moment, I imagine it’s my mother’s voice, comforting me just like she used to. I blink away tears, pushing down the ache in my chest.
“Maybe if I was more like those popular girls, things would be different,” I muse, tracing my fingers over the engraved letters of her name on the tombstone. “But I don’t even know where to start. How can I change who I am?”
The silence that follows my words weighs heavily on my heart, and I wish, not for the first time, that my mom was still here to guide me.
“Maybe Bryan would notice me then,” I add, looking down at the ground, feeling the familiar blush creeping up my cheeks. “But who am I kidding? He probably just sees me as Hannah’s weird friend.”
A gust of wind rustles the tree branches above, showering me with a cascade of leaves. It feels like my mother’s disapproval, reminding me I shouldn’t change for anyone but myself.
“Right,” I say, nodding. “I need to find my path, don’t I? Just like you always told me.”
The chime of another text message interrupts my reflections. I glance down at the ancient phone in my hand, half expecting another message from Dad. Instead, I see Mrs. Martin’s name on the screen:
“Community service starts at 5pm sharp. Don’t be late.”
“Shoot!” I exclaim, checking my watch. It’s already 4:36. If I don’t hurry, I’ll miss it. My heart pounds in my chest as I scramble to my feet, wiping away stray tears with the back of my hand. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I promise I’ll visit again soon.”
With one last look at her resting place, I take off running. For a moment, I forget about the day’s troubles as I race against the clock, determined to be on time.
Leaving the cemetery behind, my feet pound the pavement as I sprint through town. The late afternoon sun casts elongated shadows on the sidewalk, shops and cafes whizzing by in a blur of color.
“Come on, Ashley,” I mutter under my breath, trying to ignore the burning in my lungs. “You’ve got this.”
A group of kids from school lounges outside the ice cream parlor, laughing and enjoying their carefree lives. They barely register me as I race past them, their laughter fading into the background while my thoughts focus solely on reaching M.O.W. headquarters in time.
“Stupid Mrs. Martin,” I grumble internally, cursing her for reminding me so late. “Couldn’t she have sent that text an hour ago?”
My sneakers skid around a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with an elderly woman walking her dog.
“Sorry!” I call over my shoulder, not slowing down. That encounter could’ve been disastrous.
As I cut through the park, the adrenaline pumping through my veins chases away the last clouds of anger and frustration about the necklace. If only I could feel this alive all the time, maybe I wouldn’t constantly get entangled in all that drama at school.
“Hey, watch it!” a kid yells as I weave around him and his friends playing soccer. I wave an apology without breaking stride.
The colorful storefronts of downtown blur past me like a watercolor painting, their vibrant hues blending together as I pick up speed. I can smell the enticing aroma of fresh-baked bread wafting out of a nearby bakery, hear the faint strumming of a street guitarist around the corner, but all I can focus on is one thought: I have to make it to M.O.W. on time.
I spot the familiar brick facade of the meals on wheels building, its windows reflecting the golden sunlight. My legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I push myself harder, desperation fueling every step. Just a little further…
“Please don’t let me be late,” I plead silently, glancing at my watch one last time. 4:59. This is going to be close.
I barrel through the door, gasping for breath as I stumble to a stop. A couple of volunteers look up from their work, then get back to sorting donations.
“Made it,” I whisper triumphantly, a grin spreading across my face. For now, at least, the problems with Felicity and Bryan are in the past. All that matters is that I’m here, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make up for my mistake.
“Alright, Ashley,” I tell myself, rolling up my sleeves. “Let’s get to work.”