Monsoon Season Secrets

June 10 – Rainy Tuesday (7:02 PM)
I didn’t mean to find it. I was just trying to escape Anna’s new “best friend” Lily X, who showed up at lunch wearing glitter rain boots and said monsoons were overrated . OVERRATED! As if she knows anything. So I ducked into the Batu Lanchang underpass – the one near the old bus stop – when the sky cracked open with thunder.

That’s when I saw it.

Behind a curtain of dripping vines, painted on the wall like a secret dream, was a mural. Not just any mural – a giant tiger made of storm clouds, its eyes glowing blue like lightning. And beneath it, in shaky letters: “The rain remembers what we forget.”

My heart did a backflip.

I took out my sketchbook. My hands were shaking, but I drew it fast before the water ruined the paper. Then I wrote this note:

To whoever painted the tiger:
I saw your mural. It’s magic. Please don’t let the rain wash it away.
– A Friend

I tucked it behind a loose brick. Hope it finds you.

June 12 – Still Raining (Lunchtime, Hiding Behind Gym Lockers)
Anna passed me this folded note during math:

Aisha, /> You’ve been weird since the rains started. Are you mad at me?
Lily N says you’re avoiding us.
– Anna

I didn’t answer. How do I tell her that ever since Lily X moved here from KL, everything changed? We used to build forts out of umbrellas and call them “rain castles.” Now Anna laughs at things I don’t think are funny and wears outfits I don’t recognize.

But the mural… it feels more real than all of that.

Today, I went back. The note was gone! In its place: a tiny folded paper boat, dry inside a plastic bag. Inside the boat:

To the girl with the sketchbook:
The tiger isn’t finished. Meet me tomorrow. 4 PM. Bring colors.
– X

P.S. Not Lily X. Just X.

Who is X?! I asked Bell during science. She whispered, “Only one person paints like that. Remember Mr. Eddy? Art teacher? Left last year after his studio flooded?”

My pencil snapped.

Could it be?

June 13 – Heavy Drizzle (After School, Under the Overpass)
I brought my whole art kit. Watercolors, markers, even Emma’s neon gel pens (she’ll kill me if they get wet).

He was there.

Mr. Eddy. Hood up, jeans splattered with paint, humming while he added silver whiskers to the tiger.

“You found the message,” he said, not looking up.

“I – I thought you left Penang!”

He smiled. “Just moved to Air Itam. But the city still talks to me. Especially when it rains.”

He told me the mural was a memory map. Each animal is someone who got lost in the floods years ago – kids, elders, pets. The tiger? That’s Mei Ling, a girl who saved three kittens during the ’06 monsoon and vanished. No one knew her story until now.

“She deserved to be remembered,” he said.

My throat felt tight.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because you look ,” he said. “Most people just run through the rain.”

We painted together. I added fireflies made from glow-in-the-dark paint. He taught me how to mix cloud gray with hope blue.

Before I left, he handed me a small jar. “Rainwater from seven different storms. For inspiration.”

It sparkled like liquid stars.

June 15 – Sunny Break! (Café Corner, Sharing Milk Tea with Bell)
Bell read my diary entries (I let her). She gasped at the tiger. “You have to show Anna!”

But Anna’s been glued to Lily X, planning some “monsoon fashion show.” Ugh.

Still, I miss her.

So I wrote her a letter. Not a note. A real one.

Dear Anna,
I’m sorry I’ve been quiet. I found something amazing – a secret painting that remembers people. I want to show you. It’s about stories, and rain, and how things change but some things stay.
Can we meet under the overpass tomorrow? Just us?
Bring your red umbrella. The one we painted stars on.
– Aisha

I slipped it into her locker.

Holding my breath.

June 16 – Thunderstorm Warning (Evening, Journal Entry by Flashlight)
SHE CAME.

Anna stood under her red umbrella, face shadowed by the storm. At first, she just stared at the mural.

Then she whispered, “That’s Mrs. Lim’s cat. Mr. Whiskers. He disappeared in ‘18.”

I nodded. “Mr. Eddy painted him chasing butterflies made of raindrops.”

She touched the wall gently, like it might vanish.

“I forgot how much I loved drawing,” she said. “Lily X thinks it’s babyish.”

“It’s not,” I said. “Remember when we made comic books about superhero snails?”

She laughed. Actually laughed.

We stayed until the streetlights flickered on. Painted together. Anna added a tiny snail with a cape, climbing a vine.

Mr. Eddy watched from afar, smiling.

Later, walking home, Anna said, “You kept finding magic while I was busy trying to fit in.”

“No,” I said. “You just needed the right kind of rain.”

She squeezed my hand.

Best storm day ever.

June 20 – Sun Returns (Final Entry)
The mural’s going to stay.

Council approved it as a “Community Memory Wall.” Mr. Eddy’s starting a youth art project. I’m helping. Bell’s in. Even Emma (after I promised not to lose her pens).

Anna’s coming too.

We’re adding a girl flying a star-painted umbrella. Guess who?

Today, Lily X walked past. She looked at the mural, then at us. “Huh,” she said. “That’s actually cool.”

Maybe she’ll write her own note someday.

For now, I keep the jar of stormwater on my windowsill. When the sun hits it, it throws rainbows across my ceiling.

And every time it rains, I listen.

Because now I know –
the drops aren’t just falling.
They’re whispering stories.
And some secrets only come out in the monsoon.