Chasing Lightning at the Bat
Marcus stood at home plate, the baseball feeling impossibly heavy in his hands. The entire varsity team was watching, and somewhere in the bleachers, his dad was probably holding his breath. Again.
"You got this, M!" yelled Tyrell from the dugout, but Marcus's knuckles were white against the bat.
The sky had turned this weird orange color—like a bruised peach—about twenty minutes ago. Now the first fat drops of water were splattering the infield dirt, turning the powder into mud. Coach blow his whistle: "Game called! Everyone pack it up!"
Marcus should've been relieved. Instead, he felt like he'd been holding his breath for sixteen years.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Gia: "U coming to the lake?? everyone's there"
The lake. Where they'd all been hanging out since middle school, where the juniors set off fireworks, where last summer everything had shifted between him and Gia in the orange glow of a sparkler that felt like it lasted forever.
He grabbed his backpack and bolted before Coach could say anything about Monday's makeup game. The walk to the lake took him past old man Miller's place—that weird mansion with the concrete sphinx statues flanking the driveway, looking like they were guarding secrets instead of suburban lawns.
"Riddle me this," Marcus muttered, kicking at a pinecone. "How do you tell your best friend you're in love with her when you can't even hit a fastball?"
The sphinx didn't answer. Obviously.
By the time he reached the lake, everyone was already there—the whole squad, splashing in the water, laughing, existing like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gia was waist-deep, her hair plastered to her forehead, grinning at something Sophie was saying.
Then Marcus saw it: the weird orange sky was darkening to purple, and beyond the trees, lightning was stitching the clouds together in these jagged bright lines.
"Everyone out! NOW!" he yelled, surprising himself. "Storm's coming in fast!"
They all scrambled to shore, grabbing towels and phones, and Marcus found himself next to Gia, both of them dripping wet, shivering a little in the sudden wind.
"You saved us," she said, grinning. "Captain Marvel over here."
"Just looked at the weather app," he lied, because Marcus Chen did not do heroic speeches.
Then lightning cracked closer, and they both jumped, and Gia grabbed his hand and didn't let go.
"Marcus?" she said softly, and something in her voice made his chest feel too tight.
"Yeah?"
"That baseball game today—it sucked that it got canceled, right?"
He laughed. "Actually? Best thing that happened all week."
Her smile was small and real and everything.
"Me too," she said.
The first real drops started falling, huge and warm, and nobody ran for cover. They just stood there, the whole lot of them, while the sky opened up and the lightning flashed and Marcus thought maybe sometimes things get cancelled so something better can start.
He didn't say everything he wanted to say. Not yet. But as they walked back together, shoulders brushing, he knew he'd figure out the riddle eventually.
Some sphinx he was. But he was learning.