Lightning on the Padel Court

Jordan's hat sat three sizes too big, a desperate attempt to hide the forehead that had betrayed him with fresh acne right before freshman year. The country club parking lot was already filled with luxury cars, and Jordan's dad's old sedan stuck out like a sore thumb.

"You'll be fine, Jordy. Just go hit some balls," his mom called through the open window, like that was somehow helpful advice.

Jordan adjusted the brim, grabbed the padel paddle from the passenger seat—still had the price tag on it—and tried to look like he belonged here. The scholarship covered the club membership, but it couldn't buy the confidence that everyone else seemed to be born with.

Across the courts, McKenzie Williams was laughing with her friends, her ponytail somehow perfect even while running drills. Jordan had been crushing on her since August, and the only thing they'd ever said to each other was "sorry" when he'd tripped over her backpack.

"Hey! New kid!" Someone waved from Court 3. "We need a fourth—you play?"

Before Jordan could respond with something actually cool, like "yeah, been playing since I was seven" (a complete lie), his body betrayed him. "Sure" came out instead, and suddenly he was walking toward the court, legs moving like they belonged to someone else.

Then McKenzie jogged over, and Jordan's brain short-circuited. "Oh, hey! You're Jordan, right? From AP Bio?"

"Yeah, that's—uh, that's me."

"Perfect. You can be on my team."

The first rally went okay. Jordan managed to not embarrass himself completely, returning a few shots, even getting one past their opponent, Tyler, who looked like he spent more time on his hair than on homework.

But then disaster struck. As Jordan backpedaled for a lob, his foot caught on a loose cable running along the edge of the court—some kind of equipment setup from the tournament last weekend. Time went all wonky, slow and fast at once. The hat flew off. The ground rushed up.

And McKenzie was suddenly right there, grabbing his arm, keeping him upright, her touch sending actual lightning through his nervous system.

"Whoa, you okay?" Her face was inches away.

"Yeah, just—clumsy. The cable..."

She laughed, and it wasn't mean. "Tyler left that there yesterday. I swear, he's the smartest idiot I know."

By the time they finished playing, Jordan's cheeks hurt from smiling. They'd lost two games and won one, and he'd tripped two more times, but McKenzie had asked if he wanted to come back tomorrow, and somehow the hat didn't feel so necessary anymore.

Some days, Jordan thought, running toward things that scared you beat standing safely on the sidelines every single time.