Strike Zone Thunder

The championship game was tied at the bottom of the ninth, and Maya's palms were sweating through her batting gloves. The varsity baseball team—the one she'd fought tooth and nail to make as the only girl—was counting on her. Again.

Then the sky decided to completely clown on them.

A crack of lightning split the sky like something out of a movie, turning the twilight purple-white. The umpire hesitated, looked at the swirling clouds, then pointed upward. "That's it, folks. Weather delay. Everyone clear the field."

Maya's teammates groaned, dragging their cleats through the dirt as they sprinted toward the dugout. But she lingered, staring at the scoreboard like she could mentally force the final out into existence.

That's when she saw it—a cat, scrawny and orange, crouched under the team's bench. It looked unbothered, tail flicking like it owned the place.

"You too, huh?" Maya muttered, dropping to her knees. "Waiting out the storm."

The cat head-butted her shin, and Maya laughed, surprising herself. She'd been so wound up about proving herself—about every at-bat being some statement about girls in baseball—that she'd forgotten this was supposed to be fun. The cat couldn't care less about expectations or what people thought she should or shouldn't do. It was just vibing.

Another lightning strike illuminated the field, closer this time. The cat barely flinched.

"You're kinda fearless, aren't you?" Maya scratched behind its ears. "Maybe I need some of that energy."

Her teammate Devon jogged over. "Hey, Coach says we're probably calling it. Rescheduling for Saturday. You good?"

Maya looked at the cat, then at the empty field, rain finally starting to spit down. "Yeah. Actually, I think I am."

The cat darted off toward the parking lot as the first real drops fell, and Maya stood up, grabbing her bat. She'd finish this game Saturday—on her terms, no matter what anyone had to say about it.

Sometimes you need a storm to remember why you started playing in the first place.