Lightning on the Court

Fifteen-year-old Leo gripped his **padel** racket like it could somehow fix everything. The regional finals were tomorrow, and his entire social life hung in the balance. Ever since Jake—the team captain and walking human disaster—had dubbed him "the new kid's little brother," Leo had been fighting to prove he was more than just some shadow.

Now he stood outside the community center at midnight, **running** on pure adrenaline and stupidity. Maya had texted him. Maya, who smiled at him during practice and actually laughed at his terrible jokes. She'd written: "Meet me at the courts. Bring your racket."

Leo tried to be stealthy, channeling his inner **spy** as he slipped through the side gate. His heart hammered against his ribs. Was this a setup? A dare? Something worse?

Then the sky cracked open. **Lightning** fractured the darkness, illuminating Maya standing near the net, holding two tennis ball cans like weapons.

"You're actually insane," she called over the thunder. "Jake said you'd chicken out."

Leo froze. "Jake sent you?"

"Jake's a **bull**, Leo. He charges at everything." Maya tossed him a racket. "I came because I wanted to see if you'd show. Also, we need to practice our drop shots before tomorrow's finals, or we're both dead."

They played until 3 AM, raining buckets and all, Leo's racket a blur of motion, Maya laughing every time he whiffed a serve. Somewhere around their twentieth point, Jake appeared with a boombox and a case of energy drinks, looking weirdly proud.

"Alright, kid," Jake said, clapping Leo's shoulder. "You're not half bad. For a rookie."