Lightning Strikes at Miller's Pool

The first pool party of sophomore year. My hands were literally shaking as I walked through the Miller's gate, playlist blasting through my phone speakers like armor against the awkwardness waiting ahead.

"Yo, Marcus! You made it!" Tyler high-fived me, already three drinks in. "Tank's here too—somewhere."

Perfect. The one person I actually wanted to see, and she was probably avoiding me like last period's math homework.

I tried to play it cool, leaning against the patio table where a single goldfish swam in its bowl, its orange scales catching the afternoon light. Little dude looked just as out of place as I felt.

Then I saw Tank by the pool, laughing with her friends, her hair wet from a recent swim. My heart did that stupid thing where it forgets how to beat properly. I was about to head over when Tyler's golden retriever, Buster, came barreling out of nowhere, chasing a wayward beach ball.

CRASH.

The goldfish bowl went flying. Water everywhere. And suddenly I'm a fish flopping on the concrete, gasping for air while everyone stared and my entire social life flashed before my eyes.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Tank was there before I could process the embarrassment, helping me up. Her hand was warm. "Buster, you literally ruined everything."

Buster sat there looking proud of himself, tail thumping like this was all part of the plan.

And then it happened—actual lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating everything in this weird purple flash. Everyone froze. The pool's surface shimmered like silver.

"We should probably go inside," Tank said, but she didn't let go of my hand. "Unless you want to stay out here and test your luck with the universe."

I laughed. Actual sound came out. "Inside sounds safer. For the goldfish's sake."

Mrs. Miller rescued the fish (turns out his name was Fin) and we ended up jammed together on the basement couch, watching storm footage on someone's phone while everyone else played beer pong upstairs. Tank's knee kept touching mine. Accident? Maybe. But the fourth time, I stopped moving away.

"You know," she said, "I've been trying to talk to you all week."

"Wait, really?"

"Duh. You're the only one who actually laughed at my history presentation joke."

The storm raged outside, but inside, everything was quiet and perfect and completely unlike how I thought tonight would go. Buster destroyed the patio, Fin survived his near-death experience, and somehow I ended up with Tank's number in my phone and the worst story I'd ever tell—a total disaster that turned out exactly right.

Sometimes the universe breaks your goldfish bowl just to get you to look up and see what's actually in front of you.