Lightning in My Palm

I felt like a zombie walking into that party—hair slicked back way too much gel, wearing Kyle's oversized polo because I'd spilled soda on my only decent shirt. My palms were already sweating, and I hadn't even said hello to anyone yet.

"You good, man?" Kyle asked, leaning against the wall like he owned the place. He always did this thing where he looked completely chill while I was internally screaming.

"Yeah. Just. You know."

He nodded like he actually did know. "First party jitters. Everyone gets 'em. Even the bull."

I snorted. "Shut up."

"No, seriously. Tyler—remember him? Huge guy, totally jock? Broke down crying before his first party because he thought nobody would talk to him. Now he's basically the social director of the whole grade."

That made me feel about 2% better.

Then Sarah walked in, and my brain short-circuited. We'd been texting for weeks—late-night convos about everything from music to why dogs are better than cats (they just ARE, okay?)—but somehow seeing her in person was different. Scarier. Better.

Her palm brushed against mine when she squeezed past someone to get to the snacks. Electric. Not like, cute electric—like actual weird tingling electric. I might've made a noise. I definitely made a noise.

"You okay?" she asked, grinning.

"Totally. Just. Lightning strike. In my nervous system."

She laughed, and I decided right then I'd take a literal lightning strike if it meant she'd laugh like that again.

Outside, an actual storm was brewing. The sky was that weird purple-gray color that meant something was coming. Someone—probably Tyler, actually—suggested we play truth or dare, which is how I ended up in the backyard with everyone watching, trying to do something incredibly stupid on a dare.

"Handstand in the grass!" someone shouted.

I'd never done a handstand in my life. But Sarah was watching, and sometimes you do dumb things because pretty girls are watching, and that's just how being seventeen works.

I planted my hands. My palms were still sweaty, which felt gross but also like proof I was alive. My legs went up, and for like three whole seconds, I was doing it. I was HANDSTANDING.

Then the lightning actually flashed. Not close enough to be dangerous, but close enough that everyone screamed. Including me. I went down awkwardly, somehow managing to land in a way that looked intentional-ish.

Sarah was there, pulling me up. "That was actually kind of impressive."

"Falling gracefully?"

"The handstand part. The falling was just bonus entertainment."

We sat on the back porch steps watching the storm roll in, farther away now. My palm found hers again, and this time the electric feeling wasn't scary—it was just right.

"So," she said. "You gonna tell me why you looked like a zombie when I first got here?"

"Maybe," I said. "But you gotta tell me what your three biggest fears are first."

"Deal. But I'm warning you—clowns are on the list."

Weirdly perfect. I was maybe falling for a girl who was afraid of clowns, and somehow that made everything better.