Lightning on the Court

The padel court at Mesa Verde High was sacred ground. Where else could you crush a forehand while simultaneously checking your snap score?

"You're vibing too hard, Marcus," Jace laughed, effortlessly returning my serve with that annoying natural athlete grace. "Concentrate or I'm about to embarrass you in front of your crush."

I didn't have a crush on Mia. Not really. She just happened to be sitting on the bench right there, totally not watching me sweat through my navy blue uniform shirt. Coincidence.

"Shut up and play," I muttered, wiping my palms on my shorts. The sky was turning that weird purple-green color that meant trouble. But we'd started this match—me and Jace versus Tyler and whatever poor soul he'd dragged along—and finishing it was a matter of honor.

Besides, Mia was still watching.

The first lightning bolt cracked somewhere beyond the football field, but nobody moved. We were fifteen, invincible, and I was down 40-30. Typical.

"Game point," Tyler called out, grinning like he already won.

Then the second lightning strike happened—closer this time. The metal fence around the courts hummed with static. My hair actually stood up. Not a metaphor. Like, literally stood up.

"Alright, alright!" Mia shouted from the bench. "Are you dumbasses trying to get struck?"

She grabbed her bag and started walking toward the school building, that perfect I'm-disappointed-but-not-surprised walk that somehow hit harder than any insult.

Jace looked at me. I looked at the fence. Another flash, and suddenly the whole situation felt ridiculous. What were we doing? Trying to prove what, exactly?

"Friend," Jace said, tossing his paddle onto the court, "let's bounce before the sky literally falls on our heads."

We ran, laughing like idiots, rain just starting to pelt down as Mia held the door open, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

"Took you long enough," she said as we tumbled inside, soaked and breathless. "Now explain to me why you stayed out there."

"Competitive spirit," I said. "Athletic integrity."

"You're both idiots," she replied, but she sat between us as we watched the storm through the gym windows, and I realized something: winning the padel match would've been cool, but this? This was better.

Sometimes lightning doesn't strike you down—it just illuminates what's already there.