Orange Glow Saturday

The coaxial cable lay tangled behind the TV like a dead snake, exactly where I'd kicked it three hours ago when my mom cancelled our internet. Again. Grounded for the third time this semester because she found my stash of vape pens in a Jordans box under my bed.

"You're becoming someone I don't recognize," she'd said, like that was supposed to hurt.

I'd been lying on my bedroom floor for hours, doomscrolling on three dead battery bars, when lightning cracked the sky — purple-white veins splitting the darkness. Rain hammered the window. Perfect.

I grabbed my phone and crept downstairs. The house was that perfect suburban quiet where you can hear the refrigerator hum. The back door stuck, like it always did, needed a hip check to open. I slipped into my sneakers, already soaked from the dash across the driveway.

Marcus's house was three blocks over but felt like three miles in the downpour. My hoodie was plastered to my chest by the time I reached his street. All the windows were dark except an orange glow bleeding through the basement curtains — that weird neon beer sign his dad refused to take down even after Marcus got caught throwing a rager there last fall.

I tapped on the glass. Marcus's face appeared, eyes widening. He slid the door open and the smell of weed and AX body spray hit me.

"You're actually crazy," he said, but he was grinning. "Your mom catch you?"

"Nah, she's asleep. Had to get out of that house, man." I shivered, dripping onto their carpet.

The basement was already full — Chloe sitting cross-legged on the couch, Jay and Ty passing a blunt, Sasha with her legs up like she owned the place. And there was Dog, Marcus's pitbull mix, curled in a dog bed like he was part of the crew.

Then I saw Cat.

She was sitting on the arm of the couch, this sophomore with messy curls and too much eyeliner, scrolling through her phone like she'd been there forever. She looked up when I came in, and something in my chest did that thing — like lightning, real lightning this time, not the weather kind.

"You're the grounded kid," she said, and I swear my ears burned.

"For now," I managed, trying to play it cool but knowing I looked like a drowned rat.

Marcus tossed me a towel. "Sit wherever. There's pizza if Chloe didn't eat it all."

I ended up squeezed between Cat and the armrest, our shoulders barely touching. Every shift sent electricity through me. We talked about nothing — school drama, how Mr. Henderson gave Jay a detention for his vape going off in third period, the way Sasha's ex was being weird on Snapchat. Normal stuff. Safe stuff.

Then Cat leaned in close. "Wanna go look at the storm from upstairs? The window in Marcus's room is crazy."

My heart slammed. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

We slipped out before anyone noticed. The upstairs hallway was dark, just that orange glow reaching up the stairs like fingers. His room window faced west, where the storm was still rolling in, all purple flashes and rain sheeting down the glass.

"My dad would kill me if he knew people were over," Cat said, her breath fogging the window. "He's got this whole thing about trust."

"Same," I said. "Got caught with — " I stopped. "Never mind."

She turned to me, eyes reflecting the lightning outside. "Vape?"

"Yeah. Mom found them. How'd you know?"

"Everyone knows, actually. Marcus posted about it." She smiled, but not mean. "It's kinda iconic you didn't delete him."

The room felt suddenly small and perfect. Lightning flashed again, illuminating her face, the scattered posters on Marcus's wall, the two of us standing there while our friends hung out downstairs.

"So," Cat said, "are you grounded-grounded, or..."

"Depends. If she finds out I'm here? Like, forever grounded."

"Worth it though, right?"

"Yeah," I said, and I meant it. "Totally worth it."