Electric Summer

Marcus stood at the edge of the community **pool**, chlorine stinging his nose, heart doing cartwheels. The diving board loomed above him like a judgmental teacher's podium.

"You got this, bro!" yelled Jamar, his best **friend** since kindergarten, from the shallow end. "Just don't belly flop again. My stomach still hurts from last time."

"Bro, I literally BEAR-ly survived that," Marcus shot back, though his palms were sweating against his phone case. The group of girls from sophomore year sat poolside, their attention making everything more intense.

That's when the sky opened up.

**Lightning** crackled across the horizon like something out of a movie. The lifeguard's whistle blasted—everyone out NOW. Summer storms in Florida hit different—fast, violent, no drama spared.

They scrambled to Jamar's house three blocks away, sneakers squishing through puddles that reflected the purple-black sky. By the time they reached his porch, they were soaked through.

Jamar's mom had the living room set up for their weekly anime binge, but the **cable** box sat dark. Power was out everywhere.

"Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way," Jamar said, pulling out his phone to hotspot Netflix. "Hey, you never actually jumped, you know."

Marcus stared at the rain hammering against the window. Something about the storm, the adrenaline, Jamar noticing—it all clicked.

"Tomorrow," Marcus said, grinning. "First thing when the pool opens. No cap."

"Bet," Jamar nodded, already searching for the remote.

Marcus realized growing up was less about the big moments and more about showing up for them—even if you had to bear the awkwardness first. And having a friend who'd watch you try (and fail) until you didn't—that was the real lightning strike kind of rare.