It begins with blood.

Not a lot—just a scrape on your palm from slipping on the metal bleachers during gym. You hiss under your breath and press your other hand around it.

Alexa Mendoza is the first one who notices.

“Whoa—hey, hey, what happened?” she asks, rushing over.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “Just clumsy.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve met you. Let me see.”

You hesitate, but she gently pulls your hand into hers.

The cut is shallow but messy. Alexa frowns, brushing a thumb lightly near the wound

“Does it hurt?” she asks softly.

“A little.”

And then it happens.

Her palm glows.

Just a faint warmth at first—soft gold light blooming under her skin. The bleeding slows. The pain eases. The cut begins knitting itself together right before your eyes.

Alexa gasps and yanks her hand back like she touched fire.

“What—what was that? Did you see that? Tell me I didn’t just—”

You stare at your healed palm. “Alexa… you just fixed it.”

She shakes her head violently. “No. No. That’s not possible. People don’t just—glow on command.”

But her hands are still trembling. And the faintest golden shimmer lingers across her fingertips.

Later that day

You convince her to meet you behind the school, where no one can see. She’s pacing again—nervous, scared, angry at herself for being scared.

“Okay,” she hisses, “you’re the only person who saw. Which means either I’m hallucinating or—”

You hold out your other hand. Not cut. Just waiting.

Alexa stares. “No way. I’m not touching you again. What if I— I don’t know—set you on fire or something?”

“Alexa,” you say gently, “your powers didn’t hurt me.”

She stops moving.

Her voice softens. “You really think that’s what that was? Powers?”

“Try,” you whisper. “Just see.”

She hesitates… then reaches out, touching your palm again.

Nothing happens.

Then— A soft pulse of gold. Warmth. A tingling sensation that settles deep in your skin, like sunlight soaking in.

Alexa jumps back like she’s been hit. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t imagining it!”