Lightning Round at the Padel Court

I felt like a total zombie. Three hours of sleep will do that to you, especially when you spent half the night overanalyzing a text message that just said 'k.'

'You ready to get destroyed?' Jake called from across the padel court, grinning like he hadn't just completely ghosted me for two weeks.

'Sure,' I said, gripping my racquet. The blue court seemed brighter than usual under the floodlights, or maybe my eyes were just glitching from exhaustion.

We'd been best friend since sixth grade, but ever since Jake made varsity and started hanging with the popular crowd, I'd become that guy he'd wave to in the hallways but never actually talk to anymore. The guy he'd invite to padel on a Friday night when his cooler plans fell through.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Great.

'First to eleven?' Jake served, and I barely got my racquet up in time. The ball whizzed past my ear.

'Bro, you're playing like you've never held a racquet before,' he laughed, but there was something weird in his voice. Like he actually felt bad.

The sky cracked open. A single bolt of lightning illuminated the entire court, freezing everything in this weird electric blue moment. Jake's face—I saw it clearly for the first time in weeks. He looked tired. Not fake tired, actually tired.

'We should probably go,' I said.

'Yeah,' he said, but he didn't move. 'Hey, I'm sorry about—'

'Whatever, it's fine.' I started walking toward the fence.

'No, it's not fine.' Jake followed me. 'I've been dealing with some stuff, and I thought—I don't know. I thought you'd think I was being dramatic.'

I stopped. 'Dude, we've known each other forever. You think I care about you being dramatic? I've seen you cry over spilled boba.'

He laughed, actually laughed. 'That was one time.'

The rain started coming down, hard and warm. We didn't run for cover. We just stood there in the middle of the padel court, getting soaked, while Jake told me about his parents' divorce and the pressure from basketball and how he didn't know how to be the person everyone expected him to be.

And I realized something about zombies: they're not really dead. They're just waiting to wake up.

'Wanna go get food?' I asked when he finished. 'Like, actual food, not whatever you cool people eat.'

'Taco Bell?' Jake suggested.

'You know it.'

We left our gear on the court and ran through the downpour to his car, not even caring that we looked like two drowned rats who'd just remembered how to be friends again.