Summer of Static

The pool party of the year. That's what Maya's Instagram story claimed. Emma stood at the edge of the McDougals' backyard, clutching her phone like a lifeline while the cable guy's van sat parked conspicuously by the curb. #PartyFail was trending for a reason.

"You coming in or what?" Jake called from the deep end, droplets water-falling from his perfect hair. His golden retriever, Buster, paddled beside him like a furry lifeguard.

Emma's phone died. Of course. The WiFi was out, the cable was down, and social suicide was imminent. She'd spent thirty minutes perfecting her beach wave look, only to arrive at a party where nobody cared because everyone was too busy actually having fun.

"I'm good!" she lied, adjusting her bikini top. "Just... acclimating."

"More like stalling because you can't believe people still swim in pools when the ocean exists," Maya materialized behind her, somehow looking flawless even in motion. "Come on. We're doing chicken fights. Jake needs a partner."

Emma's heart did that electric-frog thing it always did when Jake was involved. This was it. The moment. Her chance to be part of the group, not just the girl who sat behind him in AP Bio.

She stepped onto the first step. COLD. Like, Antarctica cold. But she kept going.

"WOO! PARTIES IN THE POOL!" someone shouted. Too loud.

Then it happened — lightning cracked across the sky, purpling the afternoon. Everyone froze.

"Everybody out!" Mr. McDougal's voice boomed. "NOW!"

They scrambled for the house like rats from a sinking ship. Emma found herself squashed onto the sectional next to Jake, their bare arms touching, while Mr. McDougal lectured about electrical safety.

"Who wants spinach artichoke dip?" Mrs. McDougal announced, appearing with a steaming bowl.

Emma stared at it. Spinach. Really? At a pool party? But then Jake reached in, and suddenly she was reaching too, and their fingers brushed, and something warm and electric shot through her that had nothing to do with actual lightning.

"So," he said, wiping dip from his lip. "You never answered my text earlier."

"You texted me?" Emma practically squeaked. Her phone had been dead all afternoon.

"Yeah. Asked if you wanted to study for Miller's test next week. Together."

The WiFi could stay down forever. Static never felt so good.