The rain hadn't stopped all night. Lian watched it smear across the bus window in long, silver streaks, each droplet blurring the world outside. The streetlights reflected in puddles like upside-down stars. He sat alone again, hood pulled over his head, backpack clutched tight against his chest.
Jamie climbed on at the next stop, her pink-tipped hair darker from the mist. She spotted him immediately.
"Room for one more?" she asked.
Lian nodded, shifting his bag. Jamie plopped down beside him, her jacket squeaking slightly against the vinyl seat.
"You okay?" she asked.
He didn't answer at first. Then: "Do you think people can be... different inside? Like, not just personality. But something else."
Jamie blinked. "Like... secretly robots?"
He smiled faintly. "Or animals."
"Oh! You mean like spirit animals? Totally. My grandma says I'm part fox."
He looked at her. "You are."
She laughed. "Guess I've got that mischievous energy. What about you?"
Lian didn't know. He'd never seen himself. Only others. "Maybe a turtle."
Jamie tilted her head. "Nah. You're more like... a cat. Quiet. Watches everything. Jumps at the right time."
The bus bumped over a pothole. Lian thought about her words all the way to school.
By third period, the sky had darkened further. The storm had cut power to one wing of the building, and the halls flickered with emergency lights. The science teacher, Mr. Drayton, had a nervous laugh and apologized for the lack of working projectors.
Instead, he passed out worksheets. Jamie passed him a note under the table.
Boringggg
He stifled a smile. Then, he noticed a drawing scrawled in the corner. It looked like a fox curled up in a pile of leaves.
Definitely her, he thought.
When class ended, he tried to hurry to his locker. The hallway buzzed with too much noise—voices, wet sneakers squeaking, laughter that felt like barking.
Then he saw Carter.
Leaning against Lian's locker.
"Hey, Lee-on," Carter grinned. "Nice spider, huh? You like my art?"
Lian said nothing. He tried to step forward, but Carter blocked him.
"You know, if you're gonna be a freak, might as well be a quiet one. Keep your notebook shut."
Jamie appeared behind him. "Problem, Carter?"
Carter turned. "Nah. Just talking to my friend here."
"Didn't look like a conversation."
Carter smirked, but walked off. His friends followed, snickering.
Jamie looked at Lian. "You okay?"
He nodded.
She didn't believe it, but didn't push.
Later that day, during library period, Lian tucked himself into a corner behind the nonfiction shelves. He took out his notebook. The spider was still on the back, grinning at him.
He flipped to a blank page.
He started drawing. Not the spider. Not Carter.
He drew a cat.
It had slanted eyes, a sharp tail, and it crouched on a rooftop. Watching. Waiting.
Then something strange happened.
The eyes moved.
He blinked.
The drawing was still.
But for one moment, he had seen the cat blink back.
After school, Lian walked home. The rain had stopped, but the air smelled like wet leaves and pavement. His route passed the back of an old hardware store with boarded windows.
Today, something caught his eye.
A boy sat behind the building, crouched near the dumpster. Thin. Pale. Wearing no backpack, no jacket.
Lian hesitated.
The boy looked up.
His eyes were gold.
And behind them—Lian saw it—an animal he'd never seen before. Long ears. Sharp teeth. Something like a jackal. But glowing. Not evil, not good. Just... ancient.
"Hi," the boy said. His voice was hoarse.
Lian stepped closer. "Are you okay?"
The boy smiled. "You can see it, can't you?"
Lian froze. "See what?"
The boy chuckled. "Everything. You see them. The animals. The shapes. The truth."
Lian's mouth went dry. "How do you know?"
The boy tilted his head. "Because I see them too. But not like you. Yours is different. Yours is changing."
Before Lian could speak again, the boy stood.
"They're watching you, Lian. Be careful who you trust."
"Wait—how do you know my name?"
But the boy had already turned the corner. When Lian followed, the alley was empty.
That night, Lian sat at the kitchen table, pretending to do math. His mother washed dishes. His father scrolled on his phone.
"I saw someone today," Lian said quietly.
His mother glanced back. "朋友吗?"
"No," he said. "Just... someone strange."
His father grunted. "Strange how? Like some creep? You stay away from weirdos."
Lian nodded. But his mind was still in the alley.
Later, in bed, he flipped through his notebook again. He drew the boy from the alley. The sharp ears. The gold eyes.
Then he drew himself.
He tried, at least. A mirror image. His own face.
But behind it, the shape that began to appear surprised even him.
Not a turtle. Not a cat.
Something else.
Something growing wings.