Mira Patel had never stayed in one place long enough to be remembered.
Her father's job in international development meant a new city every year—sometimes two. Nairobi, Jakarta, Lisbon, Montreal. Each place left a faint imprint on her, like a stamp in a passport she didn't own. She learned to pack light, speak softly, and observe everything. Mira was the kind of girl who noticed the way people held their coffee cups, the hesitation in their voices, the stories they didn't tell.
Eastbridge was supposed to be temporary too. Just a semester while her dad worked on a water project nearby. But something about the town felt different. Maybe it was the way the trees arched over the sidewalks like they were listening. Or maybe it was the quiet sadness she saw in the eyes of a girl named Anne Waters.
Mira noticed her on the first day.
Anne sat alone in the cafeteria, her nose buried in a book, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to disappear. Mira had seen that posture before—in herself, in other girls who'd learned to make themselves small to survive. But there was something else in Anne's face. A flicker of defiance. Like she was waiting for someone to see her.
So Mira did.
It was Wednesday when they finally spoke.
Anne was in the library, tucked into her usual corner with a stack of books and a notebook filled with scribbles. Mira had come in looking for a quiet place to read, but when she saw Anne, she hesitated. Then she walked over and sat down across from her without asking.
Anne looked up, startled. "Um… hi?"
"Hi," Mira said, smiling. "I'm Mira. You're Anne, right?"
Anne blinked. "Yeah. How do you know?"
"I asked around," Mira said simply. "You're kind of famous for being invisible."
Anne's cheeks flushed. "Great."
Mira leaned forward. "I don't think that's a bad thing. Invisible people see more."
Anne tilted her head. "That's… not what most people say."
"I'm not most people."
They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the library filling the space between them. Then Anne asked, "Why are you talking to me?"
Mira shrugged. "Because you look like someone worth knowing."
Anne didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever said anything like it before.
Over the next few days, Mira kept showing up.
She joined Anne at lunch, walked with her between classes, and asked questions that no one else had ever bothered to ask. What books did she love? What music made her cry? What did she dream about when no one was watching?
Anne found herself answering. Slowly, cautiously. And Mira listened like every word mattered.
They were different in so many ways. Mira wore bold colors and silver rings on every finger. She spoke with quiet confidence and laughed with her whole body. Anne was still learning how to take up space. But with Mira, she didn't feel like she had to pretend.
One afternoon, they sat under the old oak tree behind the school, sharing stories.
"My mom used to say I was born under a wandering star," Mira said, plucking grass from the ground. "I never understood what that meant until I realized I don't belong anywhere. I just… pass through."
Anne looked at her. "You belong here."
Mira smiled, her indigo eyes soft. "Maybe. For now."
Anne hesitated, then asked, "Do you believe in magic?"
Mira didn't laugh. She didn't scoff. She just looked at Anne for a long moment and said, "I think the world is full of things we don't understand. And sometimes, the people who feel invisible are the ones closest to it."
Anne's heart skipped. She didn't know why she'd asked. She didn't know what she was hoping for. But Mira's answer felt like a door opening.
That night, Anne sat in her room, staring at the ceiling.
Zahir hadn't appeared. The room was quiet. But her thoughts were loud.
She thought about Mira. About how quickly she'd become important. About how her presence felt like sunlight in a place Anne hadn't realized was cold.
And for the first time, Anne wondered if maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to face everything alone.
Because now, she had a friend.
And that changed everything.