Act 1 - Chapter 1: Like a Magical Transformation_Beacon

Emerald Academy Middle School Division, Emerald City, WA. Thursday, June 17, 2010.

 The final bell rang. Sure, it did it with all the ceremony of a microwave timer. But hey, it was like I just magically transformed from a middle-school nobody to a high-school nobody. Go, me!

 I shoved my notebook into my backpack right next to a copy of next year’s astronomy textbook I borrowed from the high school library. Head starts are a good idea, right? All around me, the classroom erupted into summer vacation chaos—paper airplanes, shouting, 1980s heavy metal ballads about pencils and books, and at least one overturned chair. So it goes, I guess.

 “Ms. Parker.” Mr. Henderson’s voice cut through the madness. “A moment, please.”

 I checked my watch with the longest sigh I could manage, slipping my backpack over my shoulder. At this rate, I was about a hundred and ten percent likely to miss meeting up with Maya. I walked up to his desk.

 “Your final paper on stellar nucleosynthesis was…” He removed his glasses, polishing them with his shirt hem. “Well, it was university-level work, frankly.”

 Stars making heavier stuff out of lighter stuff wasn’t exactly ground-breaking science. I didn’t get why a teacher at Emerald Academy, literally the highest-rated private academy in America, would find a paper on stars burping out iron and carbon would be university-level work, but there we were.

 Sure, okay, I had a bit of an advantage. I grilled Dad about it all night.

 “I’ve forwarded it to Dr. Watkins at Emerald University. He runs the summer program for exceptional students.”

 “You did?” Of course he did.

 “He’s quite interested in meeting you.” He handed me a business card. “The deadline for applications has passed, but he’s willing to make an exception.”

 Of course he was. Dr. Watkins was, after all, a junior professor in the Astrophysics Department, headed by one Dr. David Parker, whose research on stellar nucleosynthesis was, in fact, ground-breaking. I should know. I asked him all about it.

 Sorting this out was going to be a mess for someone, but at least that someone would not be me. I guess I should have been excited about it—one more achievement—but it was a little hollow.

 Still, I smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson. This is… wow.”

 “You have a gift, Emily. Not just intelligence—genuine curiosity. That’s rarer than you might think.”

 Okay, that caught me off-guard. I felt some heat in my cheeks. “I—I… thank you, really.”

 The classroom had already emptied. Through the window, I could see the other kids already spilling into the yard. Their summer freedom had officially begun. So had mine.

 “I should go. My friend’s waiting.” I stepped back to the door. “Have a nice summer, Mr. Henderson.”

 I slipped the card into my pocket and hurried into the hallway, navigating through the paper-strewn battlefield of middle school’s final moments. Locker doors banged, teachers shouted last-minute reminders, and somewhere, a boy was crying—either from joy or the realization he’d forgotten something important at his desk.

 I somehow made it to the old oak tree at the edge of the school grounds, right near the main gate. Maya wasn’t there yet—punctuality was a thing her father drilled into her brain. I checked my watch, then flipped open my phone. Yes, I still had one of those. Mom said I didn’t need a smartphone until high school.

 A flash of red and gold streaked across the sky above me. I squinted upward, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun. Crimson Comet—one of Emerald City’s more flamboyant heroes—performing his usual midday patrol. Two younger kids nearby pointed and cheered.

 “Think he’ll fight anyone today?” one asked.

 “Hope it’s Voltage! Remember when they battled downtown last month? My dad’s office still has scorch marks!”

 I rolled my eyes. Superhero groupies. My brother Jack was bad enough with his action figure and card collection; I didn’t need it from strangers, too.

 “Planning your escape already?” Maya’s voice came from behind me, accompanied by the familiar scent of her favorite jasmine perfume. What I didn’t expect was her arm to fly out in front of me, holding a metal-and-glass handheld. One of those new phones, with the front-facing cameras. I heard the click just as my eyes had widened.

 I turned around to see my best friend grinning, somehow looking runway-ready despite eight hours of school. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her uniform somehow transformed into high fashion through strategic adjustments I’d never quite mastered.

 “Do you think he practices those poses in a mirror?” I nodded toward the vanishing hero.

 “Such a cynic.” Maya dropped her designer backpack onto the grass. “Crimson Comet saved that bus full of tourists last week.”

 “After it nearly fell off the bridge because of his fight with Magnetron. Gravitara had to get it back on the road.”

 “Details.” Maya waved dismissively. “Besides, he’s gorgeous. Those arms? The floating? Come on.”

 I laughed despite myself. “I forgot, you’re president of his fan club.”

 “Vice President.” She corrected, waving a finger before fishing a water bottle from her bag. “Ellie claimed presidency this year. I was too busy with actual responsibilities to fight her for it.”

 So we settled under the oak’s shade and did what we always did: talk about literally everything. Six years of inside jokes, shared classes, and that weird friendship that forms when we both went through puberty, braces, and our first public speaking disasters at about that same time. At least Maya won first prize in that category.

 “So,” she stretched her legs out, “any new summer plans? Before I abandon you for Brazil?”

 “Henderson recommended me for the Emerald University astrophysics program.” I pulled out the business card. “He sent them my paper.”

 She snatched the card, examining it with a low whistle. “Dr. Watkins? Isn’t he the one who discovered that weird star formation last year?” She smiled. “This is good, right? You were worried about your father—”

 “That’s him.” I quickly interrupted. “If I get in, I’ll be the youngest participant ever, but…”

 “Of course you will.” Maya handed the card back. “Another achievement for the family legacy wall.”

 Something in her tone made me glance up. “What?”

 “Nothing.” Her smile returned too quickly. “It’s amazing. You’ll get to play with all those giant telescopes and talk quantum mechanics, and your dad gets to pretend he didn’t make it happen. I swear, he must have talked to Papa about it.”

 I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t. She was absolutely right. And the way she quirked her eyebrow, I knew she was speaking more from experience than snark.

 I sighed. “I’m helping at the STEM camp for middle schoolers.”

 Maya brightened. “Now that’s an achievement, Em! I bet Dr. Reynolds was grinning almost as much as you were.”

 I couldn’t help but smile. Dr. Reynolds was pretty much my hero. Smart, young, and one of the best science teachers at the school. Sure, she was one of Dad’s students, but she made a name for herself at Caelum Innovations before retiring early to teach.

 “Plus the family camping trip next weekend.”

 “Ah yes, the Parker Wilderness Adventure.” Maya leaned back against the tree trunk. “Where Jack pretends he’s a superhero fighting forest villains while you and your dad stare at the sky all night.” She smiled. “Wish I could go this year.”

 “It’s the Bootids meteor shower.” I felt myself slipping into lecture mode, but couldn’t stop. “It’s rarely visible, but this year the conditions should be perfect, and—”

 “And I’ll be in S?o Paulo,” she interrupted, “suffering through endless family gatherings, corporate galas, and my grandmother’s attempts to marry me off to some nice Brazilian boy.”

 “You love it there.”

 “Parts of it.” Her eyes drifted. “I love my grandmother. I love the music. I love the dancing. And I love the food. I just hate being the American cousin who doesn’t quite belong.”

 I recognized the shadow that passed over Maya’s face—the tension of straddling two worlds. Three. Four, really. I have no idea how she pulled it off. When we first met, she seemed to brighten up when she showed me her prism collection and I launched into a lecture about spectrography. It took me a while to understand.

 Anyway, before I could respond, Maya brightened quickly. “But first, we’re hitting Marigold’s party tonight, right? Last middle school rager before we’re officially high schoolers?”

 I groaned. “Do we have to?”

 “Yes.” Her tone brooked no argument. “It’s sociologically important.” She cleared her throat, popping the collar of her blouse, transforming herself into a proper schoolmarm. “A critical transition ritual marking our passage into the next phase of adolescent development.”

 I stared at her. “You don’t have to translate it to nerd-speak just for me, Maya.” I grinned. “You’ve been reading my psychology textbooks again.”

 “Know thy enemy.” She winked. “Besides, we don’t have to stay long. Just enough to establish our presence in the high school social hierarchy.” She laughed. “You know. Gotta be seen, yes? Especially by that cute guy you’ve been staring at all year.”

 My cheeks must have been redder than Crimson Comet’s stupid costume. I sighed, defeated, slumping against the tree. She knew me better than I did. “F—fine. But I’m not drinking whatever Marigold’s brother makes in his bathtub.”

 “Deal.” Maya pulled out her phone, checking her messages. “My driver’s waiting. Need a ride?”

 “No, I’m good. Mom’s picking me up after her shift.” I gathered my stuff, grabbing my backpack. “The hospital’s just a few blocks away.”

 We stood. Maya smoothed her skirt, adjusting her collar. “I’ll text you details for tonight. Wear that blue top I got you for your birthday.”

 “The one with the—”

 “Yes, that one.” She cut me off with a playful smirk. “Trust me.”

 She hugged me quickly, then sauntered towards the parking lot where an expensive black car waited. I watched her go, marveling at how my best friend moved through the world—confident, purposeful, and leaving a trail of turned heads in her wake.

 My phone buzzed. I flipped it open. A text from my mother: Running late. Surgery complication. Dad picking you up instead.

 Ugh. I sighed, settling back under the tree. Dad would be at least twenty minutes late, lost in calculations or star charts or some tedious department meeting. I pulled out my notebook and flipped to a fresh page. At least while I waited, I could sketch out the orbital patterns I’d been thinking about for my research proposal. Might as well get that out of the way.

 Up above, Crimson Comet streaked back across the sky, this time with something large clutched in his arms—probably another PR opportunity. I barely glanced up.

 * * *

 Trent Residence. Later that evening.

 I tugged at the blue top for the hundredth time, wondering if Maya had lost her mind. The V-neck dipped lower than anything I’d ever worn in public, and the hem didn’t quite reach my jeans. Those and Maya’s borrowed ankle boots completed what she’d called my “social armor.” My loose blonde ponytail was just about the only part of this that felt like “me.”

 The bass from Marigold’s house thumped across the lawn, vibrating through the soles of my feet. Through the windows, silhouettes moved in rhythm, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional shriek.

 My fingers found my telescope pendant, rubbing the smooth brass as I cataloged the cliques visible through the windows. Soccer guys hogging the kitchen—typical. Drama club by the speakers—at least I knew them. And, of course, the chess club was guarding the snacks like they were afraid someone might actually talk to them.

 I’d aced the state math competition three years running. I corrected my science textbooks with sticky notes. On stage, I could become anyone—transform completely into character with a spotlight in my eyes and an audience of strangers.

 But standing here? I might as well have replaced my brain with a lava lamp. No director, no stake marks.

 “Em! You made it!” Maya’s voice cut through my anxiety as she glided across the lawn. Her red dress hugged curves I’d never have the confidence to showcase, dark hair cascading in perfect waves down her back.

 She kissed my cheek, the faint scent of her signature perfume enveloping me. “Você está linda! That top is working overtime.”

 “I feel ridiculous,” I muttered.

 “You look hot. Now come on.” She linked her arm through mine, her smile shifting subtly as we approached the door—still Maya, but amplified, polished.

 Inside, she waved to three different groups without breaking stride, squeezing my arm when I tensed.

 “Relax,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

 With Maya beside me, the room felt less like a minefield and more like a puzzle I might actually solve.

 A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

 “Let me introduce you around,” Maya whispered, her hand light on my back as she steered me through the crowd. “We’ll start with Marigold—it’s her house, plus she’s genuinely cool.”

 Marigold spotted us and waved, her cloud of natural curls bouncing as she approached. “Emily! You came!” Her smile lit up her entire face. “Maya said you might.”

 “Nice place,” I managed, glancing at the exposed beam ceiling. “Is that original Craftsman woodwork?”

 Marigold’s eyes widened. “You know architecture?”

 “Just basics. My dad and I did this whole historical buildings walking tour last summer and—”

 “The one with Professor Zhang?” Marigold interrupted. “My dad consulted on that! The earthquake retrofitting section?”

 For the first time since arriving, my shoulders relaxed. “The tensile strength calculations were fascinating.”

 Maya squeezed my arm. “See? Told you that you’d find your people. Let’s say hi to Irena.”

 Irena embraced us both, her glossy hair extensions matching her perfect nails. “Emily! You look—wait, is that the top Maya got you? It actually fits you right.” She lowered her voice. “Seriously though, you look hot.”

 I blushed, mumbling thanks while Maya smoothly transitioned to complimenting Irena’s nail art.

 As we moved toward the drinks, Ellie Mao appeared, her Crimson Comet-red highlights framing her perfectly made-up face. She gave me a dismissive once-over before turning to Maya.

 “Oh my god—Crimson Comet yesterday? The jewelry store thing? My cousin works across the street and said the entire block just like—exploded with light.” She pulled out her phone. “Look at this video—three of Mirage’s guys just getting wrecked. It was insane!”

 “Actually,” I said before I could stop myself, “it was two henchmen and one confused security guard. The Heroic Herald had to issue a clarification.”

 The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Ellie’s smile tightened. Thanks, Jack. You kept me up for thirty minutes so I could make an idiot out of myself.

 “Uh, actually, I don’t—”

 “Emily’s mom works at Kingston Hospital,” Maya interjected smoothly. “Trauma nurse. Gets all the superhero gossip first-hand.”

 Ellie’s expression transformed instantly. “Really? That’s so cool. Does she ever treat them? The heroes?”

 “Sometimes,” I admitted.

 As Ellie peppered me with questions, I watched Maya work her magic. How did she always know the right thing to say? One minute I was about to get verbally crushed, the next I was suddenly the insider with valuable hero intel. It was like watching someone solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded.

 I was so out of my league. She made it look easy, though.

 I’d barely settled into the rhythm of conversation when Travis—Marigold’s brother—appeared, red solo cup in hand and a grin spreading across his face. His eyes locked on Maya, barely registering my existence.

 “Maya! You made it.” He ran a hand through his carefully tousled hair. “You look amazing.”

 Maya’s transformation was subtle, but unmistakable. Her posture shifted, her smile softened, and her voice took on a slightly higher pitch. “Travis! Great party. Your parents’ place is gorgeous.”

 I watched, fascinated and slightly uncomfortable, as Maya became yet another version of herself—this one designed specifically for him.

 “Thanks,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Hey, want to check out my superhero collection upstairs. Got some rare Specter memorabilia last week.”

 I suppressed an eyeroll. His “collection” was legendary—not for its quality, but for how often he used it to get girls alone.

 “I’d love to,” Maya said, surprising me. She caught my expression and winked. “Just for a few minutes.”

 “Great!” He put his hand on the small of her back. “It’s in my room.”

 Maya leaned close to me, her lips brushing my ear. “I’ll be right back. You’re good, right?”

 Before I could answer, they were weaving through the crowd toward the stairs. Maya glanced back once, flashing me a reassuring smile. She made a little “shh” gesture with her finger.

 And just like that, I was alone. Crap.

 I clutched my cup tighter, straightening my posture. I tried to remember Mr. Bowie’s constant reminders about stage presence: “Even when you’re terrified, your posture can lie for you.”

 The music suddenly seemed louder, the room more crowded. Near the window, Ellie’s group debated summer internships. By the snack table, the soccer team compared training schedules.

 I shifted my weight, adjusting the blue top that still felt foreign against my skin. With Maya gone, I felt like I’d shown up to the wrong classroom on test day. Everyone else knew exactly what they were doing, and I was just… wrong.

 I hated improv.

 I needed air. Or space. Or just a moment where I wasn’t freaking out about my uncomfortable outfit and the fact that literally everyone else seemed to know what they were doing. I slipped down a hallway, testing doors until one opened to blessed silence.

 Books. Hundreds of them, lining built-in shelves from floor to ceiling. The library smelled of paper and lemon polish, the party’s bass just a distant heartbeat through the walls. I exhaled for what felt like the first time since arriving.

 Then I saw him.

 Devon Chen stood by a drafting table near the window, bent over what looked like architectural blueprints. The soft desk lamp highlighted his sharp features and the way his dark hair fell across his forehead as he traced a finger along some structural detail, completely absorbed. My stomach made a small flip that had nothing to do with social anxiety.

 No audience. No performance. Just genuine fascination.

 He wore the same clothes as every other guy at the party, but somehow looked nothing like them. Unlike every other guy here, he wasn’t trying to look cool. He was just… completely into whatever he was doing. Like he forgot there was even a party happening.

 I knew that feeling. The ‘mom called my name three times but I didn’t hear her’ focus that Dad always teased me about, or that moment I lost myself in a character on stage.

 My hand hovered at the doorknob. Step forward into his world, or retreat to mine?

 * * *

 A burst of laughter from the hallway shattered the quiet. Devon looked up, his eyes finding me frozen in the doorway like a deer in headlights.

 “Oh—hi,” he said, straightening up from the blueprints. His surprise melted into a small, genuine smile. “Emily, right? From Henderson’s physics class?”

 I nodded, one hand still on the doorknob. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just…” Looking for escape? Hiding? “…taking a break from the noise.”

 “It’s good.” He gestured to the room. “I think we had the same idea.”

 The awkward moment stretched until Devon pointed at his blueprints. “I’m looking at the new downtown development plans. The city’s adding three high-rises that’ll completely change the skyline.”

 My curiosity overrode my embarrassment. “What about light pollution? The astronomy club already has to drive forty minutes out of the city for decent stargazing.”

 His eyes lit up. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Come look at this.” He waved me over to the table. “They’re planning these massive glass facades with upward-facing lights.”

 I hesitated, then crossed the room to stand a careful distance from him. The blueprints showed Emerald City’s downtown core with proposed additions sketched in red.

 “See here?” Devon traced a finger along one building’s outline. “If they just pointed these lights down instead of up, it would cut the light pollution way down. Like, by a third at least.”

 I leaned closer to examine the details. “And these rooftop gardens could use light shields on the perimeter.”

 “Exactly!” Devon’s shoulder nearly brushed mine as he reached for a pencil. “Mind if I…?”

 I shook my head, and he quickly sketched an alternative lighting scheme on a piece of scrap paper.

 “The architects are just thinking about how it looks, not what it does to the sky,” he said, adding notes in neat handwriting.

 “Most people don’t even look up anymore. They have no idea what they’re missing.” I pointed to another section. “Ugh! This area here is even worse.”

 We stood side by side now, both bent over the plans, the party forgotten as we redesigned the city skyline to preserve the stars.

 “You know,” Devon said, glancing up from the blueprints, “your star charts in Henderson’s class were incredible. The Cassiopeia one with all the spectral classifications noted? That was next-level.”

 I blinked, heat rising to my cheeks. “You noticed those?”

 “Hard not to.” He smiled, reaching into his backpack. “Actually, I’ve been doing something similar.”

 He pulled out a worn leather notebook, hesitating before offering it to me. “Nothing as precise as yours, but…”

 Our fingers brushed as I took it, and I got some weird electric feeling up my arm. I focused on the notebook though, carefully opening to pages filled with meticulous sketches of buildings alongside star patterns.

 “You’ve mapped building heights against constellations,” I said, turning pages with growing fascination.

 Devon nodded, leaning closer. His shoulder pressed lightly against mine as he pointed to a particular diagram. “I’ve been tracking how the city skyline obscures different stars throughout the year.”

 I noticed a small scar above his right eyebrow, the way he tucked his hair behind his ear when explaining something. His hands moved with precise grace across the pages, treating each sketch with care.

 “This is brilliant,” I said, genuinely impressed by both the concept and execution.

 His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. I caught myself trying to connect the lines, like I was tracing a new constellation. “I’d love to see your calculations sometime.”

 “I’d love to share them with you sometime.” My heart skipped as I realized how eager I sounded. Was I reading too much into this?

 The library door burst open. Ellie Mao stood framed in the doorway, her Crimson Comet highlights practically vibrating with excitement.

 “Guys! Crimson Comet and Gravitara are battling Echo and Tecton downtown! You can see the light show from Marigold’s balcony!”

 The house erupted with shouts and footsteps thundering upstairs.

 “Holy crap, are they serious?” someone yelled.

 “I heard Echo’s sonic blasts can shatter concrete!”

 Bodies rushed past the doorway as Ellie disappeared into the stampede. “Come on, people! We might miss it!”

 Devon looked at me, his notebook still open between us. “So…”

 I glanced at the doorway, then back at our blueprints. The crowd’s excitement felt distant compared to what we’d been sharing.

 “Do you want to go up?” I asked, not moving.

 Devon’s fingers tapped thoughtfully on the edge of his notebook. “Not really.”

 The house emptied in a rush of footsteps and excited voices. Devon closed his notebook slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

 “So,” he said, leaning against the table, “everyone’s going to watch superheroes, but I’d rather keep talking about stars and city planning.” He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Would you want to stay here instead? Just us?”

 The question hung between us, simple yet loaded with meaning. Upstairs, cheers erupted as the crowd gathered on the balcony. Down here, just Devon, me, and a choice that suddenly felt important.

 “Maybe we could…” I gestured toward the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. “The stars should be visible by now. Better view than a superhero battle we can barely see, anyway.”

 Devon’s eyes brightened. “Great idea.”

 We slipped outside into the cool night air, the party’s noise fading behind us. The backyard was empty, fairy lights strung along the fence providing just enough illumination without washing out the stars. I automatically looked up, scanning for familiar constellations.

 “There’s Arcturus,” I pointed. “First star visible after sunset.”

 Devon wasn’t looking at the sky. “You always do that, you know.”

 “Do what?”

 “Tuck your pencil behind your ear during tests. Left ear when you’re confident, right when you’re thinking harder.” He smiled at my surprise. “And when you explain something you’re passionate about, you use both hands, like you’re physically shaping the concept.”

 I lowered my arm slowly, suddenly aware of how I’d just been gesturing at the stars.

 “You’ve been watching me?” I asked softly.

 “It’s hard not to notice someone who sees the universe so clearly.” His voice was quiet, honest. “You observe stars. I observe you.”

 We settled beneath a sprawling oak at the edge of Marigold’s yard, far enough from the house that the excited shouts about superheroes faded to background noise. The grass was cool and slightly damp beneath us as we both leaned back against the trunk.

 “You can actually see more than I expected,” I said, tilting my head back. “Emerald City’s light pollution isn’t as bad from this neighborhood.”

 Devon nodded, his face turned skyward. “Galaxy Gardens has stricter outdoor lighting ordinances than downtown. It’s one of the reasons I like coming to Marigold’s parties.”

 “You know Marigold well?” I asked, surprised.

 “Our dads work together sometimes. Her father’s an engineer who helps rebuild after superhero battles.”

 I pointed upward. “There’s Vega—brightest star in the Lyra constellation.”

 “And there’s Deneb,” Devon added, pointing slightly to the right. “Together with Altair, they make the Summer Triangle.”

 “You know your stars.”

 He shrugged. “Basic stuff compared to your knowledge.”

 “I’ve been obsessed since I was six,” I admitted. “My grandfather gave me a telescope-shaped nightlight when I was afraid of the dark.”

 Devon smiled. “That explains the constellation doodles in your notebooks.”

 I felt my cheeks warm. “You really have been watching me.”

 “In a non-creepy way,” he clarified quickly. “It’s just… you get this look when you’re thinking about something complex. Total focus.”

 We fell silent, comfortable in the quiet as we searched the sky. Devon shifted position, moving to point out Arcturus, and settled back slightly closer than before.

 “The city’s growing so fast,” he said. “Each new building takes away a little more of the night sky.”

 “That’s why I go hiking with my family,” I replied. “The stars from the mountains are incredible.”

 “I’d love to see that someday,” he whispered.

 We both leaned back further against the tree, looking straight up. Our shoulders touched lightly, neither of us moving away.

 “See that fuzzy patch?” I pointed upward. “That’s the Andromeda Galaxy. Over two and a half million light-years away.”

 “The closest major galaxy to our own, right?” Devon added. “Light that left there when, like… proto-humans were just figuring out stone tools is only reaching us now.”

 I turned slightly to look at him, surprised by his knowledge. Our faces were closer than I expected, and I could see individual eyelashes as he continued gazing upward.

 “It’s strange to think about.” He paused. “Those… those photons traveled all that way just to end their journey in our eyes.”

 “Worth the trip,” I murmured, immediately wondering if that sounded stupid or profound. With my luck, probably stupid.

 He turned then, meeting my eyes, our shoulders still touching as we leaned against the tree. “Definitely worth it.”

 Oh.

 We fell silent again, watching the stars. The distant sounds of the party drifted through the air—excited shouts about superheroes mixed with music—but they felt like they belonged to another world entirely. Here, under the oak tree, time seemed to slow.

 Devon shifted slightly, turning toward me. His expression changed, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite identify crossing his face. His eyes dropped briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes.

 “Emily,” he whispered, barely audible.

 He hesitated, swallowing visibly. For a heartbeat, he seemed frozen in indecision. Then he leaned forward, close enough that I felt his breath warm against my lips. My heart hammered against my ribs as I closed my eyes.

 A sudden eruption of cheers from the house—the superhero battle reaching some climactic moment—startled us both. Devon pulled back slightly, the spell broken. We both laughed nervously, the moment suspended between us, neither quite brave enough to bridge the gap again.

 “That was…” Devon trailed off, still looking at me with those intense eyes.

 “Yeah,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

 We sat there for a moment longer, the possibility of what almost happened hanging between us. Then footsteps crunched on the grass nearby.

 A twig snapped behind us, and we broke apart. Maya stood at the edge of the yard, arms crossed, a smile playing at her lips.

 “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere.” Her eyes darted between us, taking in our proximity, my flushed cheeks, Devon’s nervousness. Understanding flashed across her face. “Sorry to interrupt your… stargazing.”

 Devon cleared his throat. “We were just—”

 “Discussing light pollution,” I finished lamely, my fingers unconsciously touching my lips.

 Maya nodded, her expression carefully neutral despite the knowing glint in her eyes. “Fascinating topic. Unfortunately, Em, we need to head out. My dad’s driver is here.”

 Devon stood quickly, offering me his hand. The warmth of his palm sent butterflies swarming through my stomach as he pulled me up.

 “I should probably get your number,” he said, fumbling with his phone. “For, um, further astronomical discussions.”

 Was this actually happening? Should I text him first or wait? How long should I wait? Was there a rule about this? Maya would know.

 “Right. Yes. Astronomy.” I recited my number as he typed, my voice sounding strange and distant in my ears.

 “I’ll text you.” His smile made my heart skip. “So you’ll have mine too.”

 “Good plan,” I managed.

 Maya looped her arm through mine. “Nice meeting you properly, Devon. Emily, we really should go.”

 Devon’s eyes stayed on mine. “See you soon?”

 I nodded, unable to form more words.

 As Maya guided me away, the phantom sensation of what almost happened lingered—the warmth of his breath, the closeness, the way time seemed to stop. My brain was oddly quiet where equations and analysis usually raced.

 Once we reached the sidewalk, Maya squeezed my arm. “Oh. My. GOD. Emily Parker! Details. Now. Everything. Was that what I think it was? How was it? What did he say? What did YOU say?”

 I opened my mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. I think I managed something like a strangled squeak. The girl who could explain stellar nucleosynthesis in her sleep couldn’t string together a coherent sentence about a simple kiss that never materialized.

 “I… he… we… It’s not—” I gestured helplessly at the sky, words completely failing me.

 Looking back on it, I probably should have treasured this day much more than I did.

AliNovel

Act 1 - Chapter 1: Like a Magical Transformation