Blue Ticks

Three: Invisible Girl

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of forced normalcy.

I kept my head down through English, doodling in the margins of my notebook while Mr. Harlan droned on about symbolism in The Great Gatsby. Green lights and unreachable dreams. I almost laughed. If only my problems were as simple as wanting a rich guy across the bay.

By lunch, the cafeteria was its usual chaos of cliques and traded gossip. I spotted Maya at our regular table in the far corner away from the windows, away from the hockey team’s loud corner. Perfect.

She waved me over with a half-eaten wrap in one hand, her purple-streaked hair tied up in two messy buns. “Finally! I was about to send a search party. You ghosted me this morning.”

“Sorry, I had an early yearbook shoot.” I dropped my tray and slid into the seat across from her. Turkey sandwich, apple, water. That's the cheapest option that still looked like a real lunch.

Maya narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “You’ve been ‘early yearbook’ a lot lately. Is everything okay at home?”

I shrugged, picking at the crust of my sandwich. “Mom’s appointments are ramping up again. Nothing new.”

She reached across the table and squeezed my wrist. “You know you can talk to me, right? Not just about photography filters and bad cafeteria pizza.”

Maya Chen had been my best friend since sophomore year when we got paired for a group project and discovered we both hated group projects. She was everything I wasn’t; loud, colorful, fearless with her opinions. And lately, she’d been dropping hints about a certain soccer player named Riley Park that made me suspect she was figuring out some things about herself too.

“I know,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just… trying to stay invisible. It’s easier.”

“Speaking of invisible,” Maya leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “did you hear about Marcus Hale? He’s been acting weird all morning. Snapping at people, slamming lockers. Someone apparently left him a shady note. Drama.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “People love leaving notes. Classic high school.”

“Yeah, but this felt targeted.” She popped a grape into her mouth. “Anyway, more important things. Photography club after school today. We’re doing portfolio reviews. You should bring those shots from last week’s hockey practice. The ones of Kai Rivera are fire.”

I nearly choked on my water. “They’re just action shots. For the yearbook.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya grinned. “You can lie to yourself, but not to me. The way you zoomed in on his shoulders? Artistic appreciation, my ass.”

“Shut up.” I threw a crumpled napkin at her, laughing despite myself. It felt good and normal. For a moment, I could pretend I wasn’t carrying around other people’s secrets like hidden grenades.

The laugh died when I felt eyes on me.

Across the cafeteria, Kai sat at the center of the hockey table, surrounded by his teammates. Tyler Brooks was telling some loud story, but Kai wasn’t laughing. His stormy gaze was locked on our table on me.

When our eyes met, he didn’t look away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. The blue note from this morning was probably burning a hole in his pocket.

My skin prickled. I looked down at my tray, heart racing.

“Earth to Lila.” Maya snapped her fingers. “You okay? You just went pale.”

“Yeah. Fine.” I stood up abruptly, grabbing my tray. “I should head to the darkroom early. Prep for club.”

Maya raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “See you there. And hey maybe try talking to people today? You’re not actually a ghost.”

I dumped my tray and escaped into the hallway, shoulders tight. Invisible. That was the plan. That was always the plan. Blue Ticks only worked if no one connected the quiet photography girl to the messages.

But Kai Rivera kept noticing me.

And worse, I kept noticing him noticing me.

The photography club room was my sanctuary, dim red lights, the sharp smell of chemicals, rows of drying prints. I spent the next hour developing shots from last week’s game. Kai mid-skate, powerful and focused. The way the arena lights caught the sweat on his neck. The intensity in his eyes as he scanned the ice.

I hated how good the photos were. How much I’d lingered on them.

The door creaked open behind me. I quickly slid the prints into a folder.

“Nice work, Voss,” came a deep voice.

I spun around.

Kai stood in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the frame, duffel bag at his feet. He must’ve come straight from practice hair damp, hoodie half-zipped, that same unreadable expression from the hallway this morning.

“How did you… ?” I started.

“The door was open. Saw the club sign.” He stepped inside, eyes scanning the room before landing on me again. “You really don’t do sports, huh? Yet you take some of the best hockey shots I’ve seen.”

I crossed my arms, trying to steady my pulse. “It’s for the yearbook. Someone has to do it.”

He nodded slowly, then pulled something from his pocket. The folded blue note. “Did you see anyone weird around my locker this morning?”

My mouth went dry. “No. Why?”

“Because someone’s playing games.” He unfolded the paper and read it aloud, voice low. “‘Stop pretending last Friday meant nothing. I still feel your hands on me.’” He looked up. “Any idea who’d send something like that?”

“Lots of girls like you, Kai. Take your pick.”

He took another step closer. The darkroom suddenly felt too small. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t subtle. This feels… calculated.”

My camera strap suddenly felt like a noose around my neck. I busied myself with organizing prints. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

Kai watched me for a long moment. Then that half-smirk returned. “You’re interesting, Lila Voss. Most people either throw themselves at me or run the other way. You just… observe.”

“I observe everyone,” I said quickly. “It’s my job.”

“Uh-huh.” He glanced at the folder where I’d hidden his photos. “Show me the shots sometime?”

Before I could answer, the door opened again and Maya burst in with two other club members. Kai straightened, nodded at me once, and slipped out as easily as he’d appeared.

Maya shot me a wide-eyed look. “Was that Kai Rivera? In our darkroom?”

“Just asking about yearbook photos,” I muttered, cheeks burning.

But as I turned back to the developing trays, one thought kept circling:

He was getting too close.

And the next Blue Tick request for him was already waiting in my app.