Lightning in the Water

The pool deck radiated heat, but I couldn't feel it. My palms were sweating so much I'd probably leave prints on everything I touched.

"You coming in or what?" Jake called from the water, his stupid perfect abs glistening. Behind him, a real palm tree cast shadows across the deck like it was mocking me.

I'd been avoiding the pool all summer. Since The Incident. Since I'd frozen up at regionals like a total poser and everyone knew it. Now here I was at Jake's end-of-summer party, surrounded by half the swim team, clutching a vitamin water I'd been nursing for two hours.

"Maybe later," I lied. "Still recovering from yesterday's practice."

Jen rolled her eyes from her lounge chair. "That's total bull, Maria. You haven't been to practice in three weeks."

My face burned. Everyone knew. Of course everyone knew.

Then the sky opened up.

Not rain – lightning. A massive strike that turned everything white and shook the ground beneath us. The pool lights flickered and died. Someone screamed. Half the people scrambled toward the house while the rest froze like idiots, including me.

"Get out of the water!" I yelled, my voice cracking. I didn't think. I just moved, diving off the deck into the electrified chaos.

The water felt different – charged, electric, alive. I found Jake thrashing near the deep end, grabbed his arm, and hauled us both toward the ladder. My strokes were automatic, muscle memory taking over despite everything. We surfaced simultaneously, gasping, as another bolt split the sky directly above us.

"You came in," Jake said, dripping wet, grinning like an idiot.

"Shut up."

"You were scared and you still jumped in. That's huge, Maria."

Rain poured down now, warm and heavy. Jen and the others stared from the patio doors. But Jake was still grinning at me, and for the first time all summer, I didn't feel like a poser.

"You need vitamins," Jake said suddenly. "For real. You're shivering."

"I'm fine," I lied, not shivering at all.

The lightning had changed something. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the way everyone was looking at me like I wasn't the girl who froze at regionals anymore. Or maybe it was just that I'd finally stopped treating swimming like something I had to perform and started treating it like something I just – did.

"Race you to the other side," I said.

Jake's grin got wider. "You're on."

I didn't even check if my palms were sweating anymore. Some things are more important than that.