ALL I NEED IS VITAMIN YOU!

Chapter 1 – Collision Course If there was a list of places Kaira Lennox would rather not be, the top three would include: the dentist’s office, anywhere with too many people, and the Rosehill High School gymnasium. Yet here she was, standing awkwardly in the corner of the court, hugging her arms and praying not to be noticed. Gym class. Her personal nightmare. She already regretted forgetting her excuse note on the kitchen table. Her mom had even signed it. But now, she was stuck in sneakers that barely had grip, shorts that felt too short, and a class full of loud, energetic kids who actually liked to sweat. She wished she could disappear into the wall and become one of the faded paint streaks. The whistle blew, and Coach Daniels barked, “Today, we’re playing co-ed pickup. Five-on-five. Let’s move.” Kaira barely looked up, hoping to be left out. No such luck. “Lennox. You’re on Zion’s team.” She blinked. Zion Reynolds. Captain of the boys’ varsity team. Golden boy of Rosehill. The kind of guy who got yearbook superlatives without even trying—Best Smile, Most Likely to Go Pro, Most Likely to Break Hearts. He was tall, lean, full of swagger, and clearly knew it. Girls tripped over themselves to get his attention. Kaira avoided eye contact. Zion spun the ball casually as he walked toward her. His eyes glanced over her once, amused. “Didn’t know you played,” he said with a crooked grin. “I don’t,” she muttered. “Awesome. This’ll be fun.” His sarcasm stung, but she ignored it. She just wanted to get through this without major injury—or humiliation. The game started fast, and Kaira did what she did best: disappear. She hovered near the corner, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. No one passed to her. She didn’t want them to. She counted seconds in her head. Five more minutes. Maybe seven. That’s all she had to survive. Then Zion looked her way. For some reason—maybe he was showing off, or maybe he wanted to make a point—he tossed her the ball from across the court. Kaira wasn’t ready. Her arms were down, her mind a thousand miles away. The basketball slammed straight into her face with a sharp, painful thud. Everything stopped. She stumbled backward, eyes wide, pain bursting across her nose. Gasps came from all sides. Someone laughed. She reached up and felt blood. “Oh my god,” someone whispered. Zion froze mid-court, hands half-raised. “Whoa—crap. I didn’t mean—are you okay?” Kaira glared through watery eyes. “Do I look okay?” Coach Daniels rushed over. “Let’s get you to the nurse. Come on, Lennox.” As Kaira walked off the court with tissues pressed to her nose, she didn’t look back. But she heard the awkward silence behind her. And Zion’s voice trailing after her. “I swear I didn’t mean to!” The nurse’s office smelled like disinfectant and bubble gum. Kaira sat on the cot with her head tilted back and an ice pack over her nose. Her head throbbed, and her pride felt even worse. Coach had already called her mom, who was on her way to pick her up early. Kaira didn’t cry. She never cried. But the sting behind her eyes wasn’t just from the impact. It was everything—being seen, being laughed at, being reminded that even when she tried to stay invisible, the universe still had a way of dragging her into the spotlight. A soft knock came on the door. The nurse peeked in. “Visitor. Just for a second.” Zion Reynolds stepped inside, holding a Gatorade and a granola bar. He looked out of place—like someone who wasn’t used to being in trouble. “Peace offering,” he said. She looked at the snack, then at him. “Is this supposed to fix my face?” He winced. “No. It’s... just something. Look, I really didn’t mean to hit you. I thought you were ready.” “I was tying my shoe.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, yeah. That one’s on me.” Silence hung in the room. Kaira stared at the floor, and Zion, for once, didn’t seem to know what to say. “I get it,” she finally said. “You don’t have to pretend. Just go.” He didn’t move. Then, surprisingly, he set the drink and bar on the nearby table. “Fine. But for what it’s worth, I didn’t think it was funny. I felt bad.” He paused at the door, one hand on the frame. “Also, you’ve got a mean glare. Scared me a little.” He grinned, and then he left. Kaira stared at the closed door, confused more than anything. She didn’t know what to make of him—Zion Reynolds, human wrecking ball, apparently capable of guilt. She picked up the Gatorade, rolled it in her hands, and sighed. High school was already weird. But now it was about to get even weirder. .