Lightning at the Pool

Marcus stood at the edge of the **pool**, chlorine stinging his nose, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to break out. Everyone from junior year was there—Tyler's birthday bash, the invitation that'd been burning a hole in his phone for two weeks. He'd spent forty-five minutes perfecting his hair in the mirror, trying to look casual instead of terrified.

"Yo, Marcus! You gonna float there all day or actually swim?" Jenna called from the deep end, splashing water toward him. She was wearing that yellow bikini again, the one that made his brain short-circuit every time she moved.

"I'm thinking," he shot back, trying to sound chill. Inside, he felt like a **goldfish** in a bowl—transparent, exposed, everyone watching his every move.

His older sister had called it earlier: "You're being such a **bull** about this, Marcus. Just go. Have fun. Stop overthinking everything." She was right, obviously. She always was. But that didn't make standing there in his swim trunks feeling any less like he was about to jump off a cliff.

Then Tyler cannonballed into the water, sending a wave sloshing over Marcus's feet. "YOLO, my dude! Living life on the edge!"

Marcus rolled his eyes. Tyler said unironic stuff like "YOLO" and "no cap" constantly, but somehow people still thought he was cool. The world was unfair like that.

Suddenly, **lightning** crackled across the sky—a real one, not the metaphorical kind that zipped through Marcus's chest whenever Jenna smiled at him. Raindrops began spitting down, huge and warm, like the sky was spitting on Tyler's perfect party.

"Everyone out! My dad's gonna kill us if the electronics get wet!" Tyler yelled, grabbing the Bluetooth **cable** from the speaker system like it was a lifeline.

Chaos erupted. People scrambled for towels, phones, cover. Marcus found himself pressed against the side of the house with Jenna, both of them drenched and laughing as the storm unleashed.

"You okay?" she asked, water dripping from her eyelashes.

Marcus realized his heart wasn't hammering anymore. The panic, the performance pressure, the endless mental rehearsal—it all seemed ridiculous now. "Yeah," he said, actually meaning it. "I'm good."

She bumped his shoulder with hers. "You know, you're actually pretty chill when you stop trying so hard."

Marcus smiled. Maybe his sister was right about everything. Maybe he didn't have to be a bull charging through life. Maybe he could just swim.