Lightning in the Ninth Inning

Marcus's palms were sweating so bad he could practically water-ski with his hands. Which was unfortunate, considering he was currently gripping a baseball bat while half the junior class watched.

"You got this, M!" called Jamal from the pitcher's mound, grinning like he knew something Marcus didn't.

Marcus adjusted his stance, trying to look like he belonged on the field instead of in his room playing FIFA. This pickup game at Chloe's end-of-summer party had seemed like a good idea three hours ago, before the sun started sinking and his anxiety started rising.

The papaya sitting on the picnic table behind him caught his eye — some exotic thing Chloe's mom had brought back from the farmer's market. Nobody'd touched it. It sat there like an alien artifact, bright and weird and totally out of place. Kind of like Marcus felt.

"Hey!" Someone shouted. Marcus turned just in time to see the ball coming straight at his —

CRACK.

He hadn't even swung. The ball had hit his bat. His bat. His hands were still on it, somehow. The ball was soaring toward the fence, clearing it easily, landing somewhere in the neighbor's yard.

"What," Marcus said.

The field went silent. Then everyone went nuts.

"Bro!" Jamal was already there, high-fiving him so hard his shoulders popped. "You didn't even see that coming!"

Marcus laughed, adrenaline flooding his chest. The nervousness that had been coiled in his stomach all day unspooled into something bright and electric.

Then the sky opened up.

Lightning split the sky like a strobe light at a homecoming dance, and rain came down in sheets. Everyone screamed and scrambled for the covered porch, laughing and shoving each other playfully. Marcus ended up squeezed next to Chloe on the swing bench, their knees touching, both of them drenched and breathless.

"That hit though," she said, grinning at him. Her hair was plastered to her face and she'd never looked more beautiful. "Where'd that come from?"

"Honestly? No idea."

"Well," she said, leaning closer to him as another lightning flash illuminated everything in sudden, brilliant white, "guess we're having pizza inside instead of that papaya. Sorry, Mom's healthy phase."

Marcus laughed so hard his stomach hurt. The rain drummed on the porch roof, lightning flashed again, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled like applause. He'd hit a home run without even trying. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.