Lighning at the Padel Court

Maya's legs burned as she rounded the corner, her phone buzzing in her pocket. Probably another text from the group chat about tonight. Since when did playing **padel** become the social event of the season? Apparently since Lucas started going to the new club downtown and suddenly everyone who was anyone was there.

She'd been **running** three miles every morning since freshman year, but none of that mattered when it came to appearing effortless at practice. The girls would show up in matching outfits, hair perfectly messy, sipping green juice that probably cost more than Maya's entire wardrobe. They made everything look easy. Maya made everything look like work.

Her mom had left a bottle of **vitamin** D supplements on the counter with a sticky note: "For your bones! Love you!" Maya grabbed them, choking one down with lukewarm coffee. Another thing to worry about — was she getting enough sun? Was she getting enough anything?

The sky purpled as she walked to the courts. The humidity was thick, the kind that presses against your skin like an unwanted hug. Perfect storm weather.

She arrived early, as usual. The others tumbled in twenty minutes later, a cloud of expensive perfume and laughter. Lucas was there, tall and awkward in a way that made Maya's stomach do weird flip-flops. He waved at her, and she almost tripped over her own racket.

"You ready to get crushed?" he called. His friends snickered.

"In your dreams," Maya shot back, then immediately wondered if that was too aggressive. Or not aggressive enough. She never knew.

They started playing. Maya was decent — better than decent, actually — but today everything felt wrong. Her serve sailed wide. She misjudged a backhand and Lucas's team scored. The girls whispered from the sidelines. Maya felt it building behind her eyes, that hot prickly feeling of being fifteen and never, ever getting it right.

Then the sky cracked open. Literally.

**Lightning** split the sky purple-white, followed immediately by thunder that shook the ground. Everyone screamed. The court lights flickered and died. In the sudden darkness, someone grabbed Maya's hand.

"Run!" Lucas shouted, and they were sprinting toward the covered patio, rain sheeting down, everything chaotic and electric and perfect. They collapsed under the shelter, soaked through, breathless.

"That was insane," Maya laughed, wiping water from her eyes.

"You're really good," Lucas said, not looking away. "I mean, like, actually good. I was watching you before the storm."

Maya's heart did something complicated. "Thanks."

"We should play again," he said. "Just us maybe?"

"Yeah," Maya said, and something in her chest loosened. "Yeah, that would be cool."

The rain drummed against the roof, drowning out everything else. For once, Maya didn't worry about saying the wrong thing or looking the wrong way or being too much or not enough. She was just here, soaked and happy, and it was enough.