Striking Distance

The membership packet sat heavy in my lap, fresh from my dad's promotion at the cable company. Suddenly we were those people — country club people. I stared out the car window at the palm trees lining the driveway, trying to look like I belonged. Instead, I felt like every cell in my body was screaming impostor.

"You'll love it here," Mom said, already in her tennis whites. "The padel courts are supposed to be incredible."

I'd never played padel in my life. A quick Google search told me it was like tennis compressed into a smaller, more intense box. Perfect.

Court 4. That's where I saw her — Chloe, who'd been sitting three rows behind me in AP World since September, wearing a coral skirt that somehow made her look like she'd been born with a racquet in hand. She was laughing at something her friend said, head thrown back, hair catching the afternoon sun like she'd personally arranged the lighting.

Then she looked right at me.

"You're in my history class, right? Want to join? We need a fourth."

My palms were sweating. Actually sweating. I wiped them on my shorts like that would help, like this wasn't already a disaster in progress. "I've never played before."

"Perfect," she said. "Neither has Jason. We'll be terrible together."

Jason turned out to be her ex-boyfriend, which I learned approximately thirty seconds into my first serve — a serve that hit the net so hard it practically insulted his ancestry. But Chloe laughed, and Jason mostly looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, and suddenly I was part of something.

We played for two hours. I missed everything. I tripped over my own feet. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. And somewhere between my seventh embarrassing swing and Chloe high-fiving me for accidentally hitting a winner, I realized something.

The membership didn't matter. The country club didn't matter. My dad's promotion didn't matter.

What mattered was this feeling — lightning in my chest, electric and terrifying and absolutely alive.

"Same time next week?" Chloe asked, grabbing her water bottle.

"Absolutely," I said, and this time my palm didn't sweat when I high-fived her back.