Spinach Teeth & Lightning Strikes

Marcus stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, braces gleaming like a silver prison. First dinner at Riley's house and he was already spiraling. His palms were sweating, his stomach doing somersaults that had nothing to do with the delicious smells wafting from downstairs.

"You good, bro?" His cousin had texted earlier. "Just be chill. Riley's family is super laid back."

Chill. Right. Marcus splashed water on his face. He could do chill.

Dinner was pasta — mercifully not spinach, which would've been a total braces nightmare. But his luck was never that good. Between his second and third forkfuls, Riley's little brother Kayden made a joke that had Marcus snorting laughter. And that's when he felt it: that signature spinach-between-the-teeth feeling, except worse, because he had braces.

He kept his smile tight, excused himself to the bathroom, and spent five minutes picking green shreds out of his brackets while questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

When he came back, Riley's golden retriever Thunder — ironic name, he'd thought at the time, but whatever — was sniffing his chair like it contained the secrets to the universe. Marcus had just sat down when Thunder decided he wanted in Marcus's lap.

"Thunder, down," Riley said, embarrassed. "Sorry, he's basically a toddler in a fur coat."

"It's cool," Marcus said, trying to push the dog away gently. Thunder had other plans. In his enthusiasm, he knocked over Marcus's soda. Sprite everywhere.

This was it. The moment. The social execution. Marcus was dead. His social life, over at fifteen years old, slain by a dog named Thunder and some carbonated sugar water.

But then Riley's mom was laughing. "Classic Thunder behavior." And Riley was giggling, not at him, with him. And Kayden was practically crying, yelling "DRAMATIC REENACTMENT" while acting out the spill in slow motion.

Then it happened — actual thunder, real this time, shaking the house. Lightning flashed through the windows, turning everything strobe-light purple for a split second.

The power went out.

"Flashlight tag in the attic?" Riley asked, eyes bright in the candlelight from the emergency candles her mom was lighting. "Winner gets the last slice of cake from earlier."

Marcus looked around at this family he'd been so nervous to impress, now all shadows and laughter in the flickering light. He looked at Riley, smiling at him like he was already part of something good.

"You're going down," Marcus said, and meant it.

Later, cake crumbs on his fingers and Thunder asleep on his feet, Marcus caught his reflection in a darkened window. No spinach in sight. No anxiety either. Just some lightning, one chaotic dog, and the best Friday night he'd had in forever.