Green Lightning

I looked like a zombie. Not the cool, supernatural kind. The kind that survived three hours of sleep and still showed up to first period because missing zero period meant automatic detention.

"You good?" Maya asked, sliding into the seat beside me. She smelled like strawberry vape and expensive perfume.

"Living the dream," I muttered, staring at my lunch tray. The spinach salad I'd packed to impress Mom with my "healthy lifestyle changes" sat untouched, mocking me.

Maya snorted. "That salad looks like depression on a plate."

"It's supposed to be fuel for my brain. Or something."

"Bro, you need real food." She waved a fry near my face. "Live a little."

The cafeteria windows fogged up. Outside, summer storm clouds gathered in that ominous way that made the air feel heavy and electric. I'd been crushing on Maya since seventh grade, and most days, talking to her felt like trying to speak a language I'd barely studied.

"My parents are out tonight," she said suddenly. "Pool party. You coming?"

My heart did that embarrassing flutter thing. "Yeah."

"Cool. Bring something actually edible this time."

Later that night, I floated in her pool, watching lightning crack the sky open. Water slicked my hair back. Everyone else was inside, but I needed this — the weightlessness, the shock of cold against my skin, the feeling of being somewhere between drowning and flying.

Maya appeared on the pool deck, barefoot, holding two sodas. The storm behind her made everything weirdly luminous.

"You're gonna get struck by lightning out here," she said, but she sat down at the edge and dangled her feet in the water.

"Worth it." I treaded water closer. The static electricity between us felt real, or maybe that was just my brain making connections that weren't there.

"You know," she said, opening a soda, "you're way less annoying when you're half-drowned."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Don't push it."

Lightning flashed again, turning the whole world white for one perfect second. In that flash, I saw her looking at me differently. Or maybe I just wanted to.

"Your hair looks like spinach," she laughed.

"Gross."

"No, like — pretty. In a swamp creature way."

I floated there, electric and exhausted, feeling like maybe I wasn't a zombie anymore. Just a person who was seen.