A new school year starts, and I’m signed up for another round of homeschooling with Mom. Kylie, meanwhile, joins Lucian and Luna at their middle school. Big surprise: she adapts instantly. Within days she’s got a whole circle of friends, laughing in the hallways, texting nonstop. At school she’s this bright, outgoing butterfly—nothing like the eye-rolling sister I get at home. It helps that Lucian’s already popular; he introduces her to everyone, and just like that, she’s in.

  I’m… jealous. And lonely. They get to go out into the world and collect friends like Pokémon cards while I’m stuck at the kitchen table conjugating verbs.

  Luna’s experience is the opposite. She’s got a reputation—bad one—and only a couple of close friends who can handle her. As weeks turn into months, I hear all the stories. Luna gets targeted constantly for how she looks, how she dresses. Kids hurl ugly names at her. She fights back. Hard.

  Most fights end with someone bruised and crying, and one time she put two older boys in their place—one ended up in the ER—after they yanked up her shirt in front of everyone to “prove” something cruel.

  Those incidents spark massive arguments at her house. Carl lays into her for hurting “weaker” kids, tells her to turn the other cheek or go to the principal. Amber defends her right to stand up for herself. But no matter who’s “right,” Luna usually ends up grounded for going overboard.

  A lot of days she gets dropped off at our place—either as punishment or to keep her away from Lucian’s friends when they come over. It’s barely punishment. Mom spoils her rotten: fresh cookies, long hugs, endless listening. Mom has this magic way of calming Luna down when she’s raging. And slowly, surprisingly, Luna starts opening up to me too.

  Turns out school isn’t the only thing eating at her. At home she feels invisible. Carl argues without really hearing her. Amber listens, sometimes fights Carl on her behalf, but then Amber’s the one who enforces the grounding. And Lucian? He’s the golden child. Gets all the praise, all the one-on-one time with Carl, all the congratulations for good grades. If Luna ever outperforms him, Carl teases Lucian: “How’d you let your sister beat you?”

  I start feeling bad for her. Really bad. I know what it’s like to be mocked for looking different. There are days I want to tell her that maybe if she wore more traditionally girly clothes or softened her edges, the teasing would stop. Or that being less hostile might help her make friends. But I keep my mouth shut. The last thing I need is her mad at me too.

  Nearly a year slips by like this. Eventually my parents relax enough to let Kylie invite school friends over. At first they’re thrilled to meet the real live elf, firing off the same tired questions I’ve answered a million times. The novelty wears off fast once they realize I’m just a regular kid with weird ears.

  I’m shorter than all of them, baby-faced enough that strangers think I’m nine or ten instead of almost thirteen. I hate it. Some days I wish I were plain old human.

  Once the fascination fades, the teasing starts—quiet, behind-my-back stuff they think I can’t hear. I can. “Midget Legolas.” “Santa’s Little Helper.” “Keebler.”

  It stings more than I want to admit. Finally I tell my parents. They confront Kylie: either her friends treat me with respect or they don’t come over. And she should be defending me, not letting it happen.

  Kylie’s furious at me for “snitching.” We barely speak for a week.

  Luna, though? She turns into my silent avenger. Passive-aggressive genius. Spills cereal on one kid’s lap “by accident.” Trips and “accidentally” shoves another girl into the lake. Every time she passes me afterward, she flashes this tiny, satisfied smirk.

  Slowly, strangely, we become friends. Real friends. Two outcasts stuck with each other. Lucian drifts away, swallowed up by his popular crowd and Carl’s approval.

  One afternoon my parents knock on my door, worried. “Have you seen Luna? She fought with Lucian and Carl again and took off. We thought she might’ve come here.”

  I shake my head. She’s run off before; she always turns up.

  Hours pass. No Luna. Worry creeps in—kidnapping, accident, something worse. I offer to help search with Carl, but they tell me to stay home in case she shows up.

  That evening I’m up in my room, eating dinner in front of some anime, when a low growl comes from my closet. Then shuffling. I freeze. We’ve had squirrels in the walls before, even a raccoon once, so I try to ignore it.

  It happens again—louder.

  Heart pounding, I grab my rubber Nerf bat, tiptoe over, and yank the door open with a battle cry.

  “Ha!”

  Nothing. Just clothes. I poke around with the bat, feeling silly.

  Chuckling at myself, I start to close the door—then hear a whispered, “Damn it, shut up.”

  Luna’s voice.

  She’s in my secret cubby—the only other person who knows about it.

  I crouch, open the tiny utility door, and there she is: knees hugged to her chest, still in yesterday’s pajamas, barefoot, eyes red.

  “Luna? How’d you even get in here?”

  “Window,” she mutters. “Close the door. I don’t want anyone finding me.”

  I glance at my second-story window. No trees nearby. No ladder. I don’t ask.

  “Why are you hiding in my closet?”

  “I haven’t decided where I’m actually running away to yet.”

  “Because of the fight with your dad?”

  She hugs her knees tighter. “What do you think? I hate my life. Everyone hates me. No one cares. My parents only care about Lucian.” Her voice cracks; tears spill over. “Just close the door and leave me alone.”

  I ignore her and crawl in, sitting cross-legged in the cramped space.

  “Everyone doesn’t hate you. My parents love you—Mom especially. She’s always saying good things about you. Harley adores you. And I don’t hate you. Not anymore, anyway.” I flash a small grin.

  She narrows her eyes, fighting a smile. “Uh-huh.”

  “Seriously. I’m pretty sure Carl loves you too. He’s just… bad at showing it. Dads are weird like that.”

  “He shows it to Lucian.”

  “Does he actually say ‘I love you’ to Lucian? I’ve never heard him say it to Amber.”

  She thinks, brow furrowing. “Well… no.”

  “See? And you’re not allowed to run away. You’re basically my only real friend right now. Who else am I supposed to hang out with—Kylie and her brain-dead crew? They only keep me around to cheat off my English homework. It’s English. We all speak it. Lucian’s the smartest in that group, and you’re smarter than him. Plus his head’s been so far up your dad’s butt lately I barely see him.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Luna snorts, then chuckles, wiping tears with the back of her hand.

  For the first time in a long time, the cubby doesn’t feel like hiding.

  It feels like safety.

  “Lucian and Kylie are spoiled brats,” Luna mutters.

  I nod vigorously. “Oh, I know.”

  Right on cue, her stomach lets out this deep, rumbling growl—like a monster waking up underground. She slaps both hands over it and groans.

  I can’t help laughing. “Wow. That’s the loudest stomach growl in history. Kinda terrifying.”

  “Shut up,” she grumbles. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. And even then I barely got anything down before the fight.”

  “Hold on.” I hop up, grab my half-eaten dinner plate from the bed, and hurry back. “Here, take this.”

  She eyes my sandwich suspiciously, leans in, and sniffs. Her nose wrinkles. She plucks a chip instead and crunches it. “What is that? It smells weird.”

  “Cucumber sandwich,” I say proudly.

  Her face scrunches harder. “Gross. I’ll just steal your chips.” She scoops the rest off my plate without remorse.

  “They’re actually good,” I insist, taking a big bite to prove it.

  “Well, it smells like ass,” she deadpans.

  I choke—half laugh, half cucumber—coughing and pounding my chest.

  “You okay?” she asks, smirking.

  I clear my throat a few times. “Yeah. Want me to sneak downstairs and grab you something? We had chicken. Plenty left.”

  She lets out this longing little moan. “Chicken sounds amazing right now. Baked or fried?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not really.” Then her eyes narrow. “But don’t get caught. They’ll know I’m here.”

  Challenge accepted.

  I set the plate down, yank my T-shirt up over my face like a mask—leaving just my eyes visible—and crouch dramatically, forearm shielding my mouth. “Ninja mode. I never get caught.”

  Luna rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they stay in her head, but she’s grinning. “You. Are. Such. A. Nerd.”

  “Technically,” I say, straightening and holding up one finger like a professor, “I’d be a geek. Or possibly an otaku, given my deep and abiding love for anime and all things Japanese. Nerd implies super smart, which—fair—I kinda am.”

  “Oh my god, just go get the food!” She points at the door, laughing.

  I flash a huge smile and dart out.

  Downstairs, I go full stealth mode—imagining I’m infiltrating an enemy fortress to steal the sacred golden chicken. Kylie’s sprawled on the couch, phone to her ear. She spots me creeping past with my shirt-mask and shakes her head.

  “My brother is so weird,” she says into the phone. Loud enough for me to hear, obviously.

  I sprint the rest of the way to the kitchen.

  Parents are already in their room—perfect. I pile a plate high with chicken, pop it in the microwave, and grab a soda. While it heats, lightning flashes outside, followed by a loud crack of thunder. A surprise storm rolls in fast, rain starting to hammer the windows.

  Food done, I balance everything carefully and race back upstairs.

  When I push the door open, Luna’s out of the cubby, standing at my shelf examining one of my prized figures: the limited-edition maid warrior—long black hair, dramatic pose, katana extended.

  “Put that down! You’ll break it!” I yelp, nearly dropping the plate.

  She jumps, startled, then glares like I’m the crazy one. “Chill.” She sets it back down—roughly.

  “Careful! It’s collectible.”

  “It’s a cartoon toy. Relax.” She takes the plate and drink from me gratefully.

  “Anime is not cartoon,” I mutter, gently repositioning the figure exactly how it was. “And that one’s worth, like, seventy-five bucks.”

  “Whatever.” She’s already tearing into a chicken leg with the enthusiasm of a starving wolf.

  We settle on my bed, eating while the storm rages outside. I hand her the remote—peace offering. She scrolls and lands on some teen drama about supernatural creatures secretly living among humans and going to high school. Vampires, werewolves, the whole deal.

  I’m skeptical at first. “This looks cheesy.”

  “Give it a chance,” she says around a mouthful.

  Ten minutes in, I’m hooked.

  On screen, the main girl is fighting with her parents because she’s in love with a werewolf they don’t trust. She ends up sneaking out her window to meet him anyway.

  The scene hits a little close to home. I glance at Luna, scarfing chicken and glued to the TV, hiding in my room from her own family drama.

  Thunder booms again. Rain lashes the window.

  Yeah. Life’s feeling a little too much like this show right now.

  During the next commercial break, I finally ask the question that’s been bugging me.

  “So… why the big fight with your dad this time?”

  Luna sighs, picking at a chicken bone. “He’s being a total jerk again. This weekend he’s taking Lucian hunting—shooting guns, tracking stuff, the whole manly bonding thing. I’ve begged to go for years. Every time, it’s ‘No, Luna.’ But Lucian? He gets invited automatically. I even asked Mom to back me up, and she just says it’s ‘boy time’ and I wouldn’t like it anyway. I totally would. I’d probably be better at it than Lucian. It’s not fair—he gets all the cool stuff, and I’m stuck at home.”

  I nod slowly. “I guess. But hunting doesn’t sound fun to me. I could never shoot an animal.”

  “Of course you couldn’t,” she says with a mocking grin. “You’re too much of a wuss.”

  I glare at her. “Oh yeah? Maybe I should march downstairs right now and tell everyone you’re up here.”

  Her eyes go wide, chicken leg frozen halfway to her mouth.

  I start to stand, keeping my face dead serious.

  She lunges, grabbing my arm. “Please don’t! I’m sorry!”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For calling you a wuss. Please don’t rat me out.” She pulls out the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen.

  I hold the act for another second… then grin. “I’ll think about it.”

  She catches on, relaxes, and smirks. “Jerk.”

  Knock knock.

  Luna’s face drains of color. She dives off the bed and disappears on the far side just as Mom cracks the door open.

  “Meleek? You still awake?”

  I spot Luna’s plate of chicken bones still on the comforter and shove it off the edge—right onto her hiding spot.

  “Ow,” drifts up faintly.

  “Yeah, just watching TV,” I say brightly, gesturing at the screen.

  Mom steps in. We both glance at the TV—and I want to die.

  Two shirtless, ridiculously ripped guys are full-on making out.

  My face goes nuclear. Mom raises an eyebrow.

  “Um… okay,” she says slowly, then sniffs the air. “Do I smell chicken?”

  “Chicken?” I sniff dramatically. “Nope. Maybe leftover from dinner?”

  She’s not buying it—I’m a terrible liar—but she lets it slide. “Your dad and I are heading to Carl’s for a bit. Luna still hasn’t come home, and they’re really worried. You’re sure you haven’t heard from her?”

  I shake my head, guilt twisting my stomach. “No. I hope she’s okay.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Smart girl. Probably hiding somewhere we’d never think to look.” She gives me a meaningful little smile that makes my heart sink. “We might be late. You okay with the storm?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’m thirteen. Storms don’t scare me anymore.”

  She grins. I hear the tiniest snort from Luna’s side of the bed.

  “Okay, my brave little spider monkey.”

  “Mooom.”

  She laughs, ruffles my hair, and leaves with a final reminder to send Kylie to bed by ten if we’re still up.

  The door clicks shut. Luna crawls out, cracking up. “Spider monkey?”

  “Shut up.”

  She thanks me—genuinely—for not giving her away. I try convincing her to go home once she hears how worried everyone is, but she digs in her heels. We watch a few more episodes, then crash.

  Next morning, angry voices yank me awake. I glance over—Luna’s still out cold beside me, a small drool spot darkening my pillow. She’s dead to the world.

  I slip downstairs. Mom and Dad are in last night’s clothes, trying to referee a full-blown shouting match between Carl and Amber in the living room. Amber’s right up in Carl’s face, blaming him for Luna running off. Carl’s barking back, telling her to back off. I’ve never seen them this mad—it feels seconds from turning physical.

  Mom spots me hovering nearby and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Did we wake you, baby?”

  “Yeah. What’s going on?”

  “They’re just scared and upset. Luna’s still missing.”

  Guilt slams into me again. I open my mouth—just as Amber lunges forward, hands rising toward Carl’s neck.

  “God, you are such a fucking idiot sometimes!”

  “Hey!” Mom yells, clapping hands over my ears. “Enough with the yelling and the language. You’re waking my kids.”

  Both freeze, finally noticing me. Amber looks one breath from tears.

  “I’m sorry, Meleek,” she says softly. “You’re sure you haven’t seen Luna?”

  I rub the back of my neck—my tell. Mom clocks it instantly.

  “Meleek… do you know where she is?”

  Tears prick my eyes. “Um… no.”

  Amber crouches to my level, gentle. “Sweetie, we won’t be mad, we just—”

  She stops, grips my shoulders, and leans in to sniff my shirt. Her eyes go huge.

  “I smell her on you. She’s here?”

  “I—she’s upstairs,” I blurt, tears spilling over. “In my room. I’m sorry.”

  Amber bolts up the stairs. Carl’s right behind her.

  I turn to my parents, sobbing. “I’m so sorry. She didn’t want me to tell.”

  Mom kneels and pulls me into a hug. “Shh, it’s okay. You were looking out for your friend. That was sweet.” She strokes my hair. “But you can’t hide something like that, baby. They were terrified. What if they’d called the police?”

  Dad rubs my back. “We forgive you, bud. But there will be consequences for lying.”

  Mom shoots him a look. “Later. He feels bad enough.”

  Upstairs, doors open and close. Voices rise briefly—Luna’s indignant—then quiet.

  Amber and Carl bring her down a few minutes later. Luna glares daggers at me at first, but it fades over the next couple days.

  Things settle back to normal surprisingly fast. And from then on, whenever life at home gets too much, Luna’s new go-to move is sneaking over to crash at our place until her parents come collect her.

  I guess I’m officially her safe harbor now.