Lightning on the Court

The padel court smelled like heated rubber and desperation. I wiped my sweating palms on my shorts—again—and watched Jake serve. His stupid perfect hair didn't even move.

"You're up, Maya," he called, flashing that grin that made everyone's knees weirdly jelly-like. "Unless you're scared."

"I don't get scared," I lied. "I'm just mentally preparing. For the domination."

Truth: I'd never played padel in my life. But when Jake had invited me to his cousin's fancy country club, I'd said yes because that's what you did when you were trying to survive ninth grade without being invisible.

My first swing missed the ball completely. The plastic racquet whooshed through empty air. Jake's friends, a collection of polo shirts and too much hair gel, erupted into laughter.

"My bad," I said. "The wind shifted."

"There's no wind indoors, Maya," Jake said, but he was smiling. Not in a mean way. In a way that made my stomach do something complicated and terrible.

Then it happened—a sudden flash, followed instantly by thunder that shook the entire building. The overhead lights flickered.

"Whoa," someone said. "Lightning hit something close."

The club's power died. We were plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the strange gray glow through the skylights. And then another flash, closer this time. Lightning strikes, visible through the glass, turning everything purple-white for a split second.

"Everyone out!" a manager yelled. "Now!"

We scrambled toward the exits. In the chaos, someone grabbed my hand. Jake. His palm was warm, calloused from padel and probably other sports that cool people played.

"Nice form out there," he said as we huddled under the overhang, watching the storm. "I'm kidding. You were terrible. It was kinda adorable."

"Adorable?" I repeated. "I'm going for 'mysteriously skilled but holding back.'"

He laughed, and something in my chest loosened. Maybe it was okay to be new at things. Maybe you didn't have to be perfect at everything to be worth hanging out with. The lightning flashed again, illuminating his face, and for once, I didn't feel like an imposter.

"Teach me?" I asked. "For real this time?"

Jake's palm found mine again in the darkness. "Deal. But you're gonna owe me, like, a million bubble teas."

"Make it two million and you've got yourself a coach."

The storm raged, but inside my head, everything was finally quiet.