Maddie Thompson's Monday started with the usual chaos—her alarm blaring three times before she finally dragged herself out of bed, her math homework half-completed and stained with orange juice, and her dad yelling from the kitchen that she was going to miss the bus again.
She darted out the door with toast in her mouth, backpack half-zipped, and hair pulled into a messy bun that leaned too far to the left. Typical. At least no one expected perfection from Maddie anymore.
At Jefferson High, the morning rush had already taken over the hallways. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked across the linoleum floors, and the smell of cafeteria hash browns and teenage body spray hung thick in the air. Maddie made her way to locker 317, dodging a flying paper ball and side-stepping a couple making out like they were in a romantic movie instead of a public school hallway.
She sighed, clutching her books tighter. "Please don't be jammed today," she muttered, spinning the lock with her usual combination.
Click.
The locker creaked open—and immediately, a wave of heat and something that smelled like burnt metal and ozone hit her like a slap to the face.
"What the—?"
Her books slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor, but Maddie barely noticed. She was too busy staring at the impossible.
Inside her locker, curled between her gym shoes and a crumpled granola bar wrapper, was something alive.
It wasn't human. That much was clear.
The creature was small, no larger than a toddler, with smooth, silver-gray skin that shimmered like oil in sunlight. Its arms were too thin, its torso fragile, and its head… it was shaped like a teardrop, with enormous eyes that took up nearly half its face. They blinked—once, slowly—revealing deep, liquid pools of color, like galaxies folded into glass.
It whimpered, a sound that wasn't quite a voice but pierced straight through her. Maddie's knees buckled slightly.
"Oh my God. This isn't real," she whispered, heart thudding. "This is a dream, right? Or some kind of crazy prank show?"
But the creature bled. Thick, silver-blue liquid oozed from a gash along its side. Its body trembled violently, and its fingers curled in pain.
Maddie looked around. The hallway was momentarily clear, most students already in their first class.
She had about thirty seconds before the late bell.
Her brain screamed at her to run—to tell someone, to get help—but something stopped her. Maybe it was the way those eyes locked onto hers, full of fear and something like… trust.
"Crap, crap, crap," Maddie muttered. She yanked off her jacket, wrapping the creature with trembling hands. It made a faint clicking noise, almost like a purr, and closed its eyes.
"This is the dumbest thing I've ever done," she hissed, pulling the locker closed and cradling the alien against her chest. "You better not bite me or lay eggs in my brain or something."
With adrenaline pumping and her heart in her throat, Maddie sprinted out the side exit of the school and disappeared into the fog of early morning, carrying a secret she didn't yet understand.