Summer Storm at the Padel Court

The **lightning** flashed across the sky as I stood by the **pool**, clutching my vitamin D supplement bottle like it was some kind of shield. Mom had made me promise to take it every day, even at parties, because "your bones are still building, Maya." Whatever that meant.

"Maya! You gonna stand there all day?" Jordan called from the **padel** court. He was sweaty, shirtless, and annoyingly perfect. His hair curled in that way that looked effortless but probably took forty minutes.

I stared at my phone, scrolling through TikToks instead of answering. Jordan was everything I wasn't—athletic, confident, probably didn't have to carry a **vitamin** bottle everywhere. Meanwhile, I was still figuring out if I was supposed to be the funny friend, the smart friend, or just invisible.

"Try this!" Chloe shoved a plate of **papaya** chunks in my face. "It's supposed to be amazing for your skin."

"I'm good," I lied, because papaya looked like alien food and Chloe had already made it clear she thought I needed help with my skincare routine.

The sky turned that weird purple-green color that means weather's about to get dramatic. Thunder rattled the pool chairs. Everyone started grabbing their stuff, but Jordan was still packing up the padel equipment, moving in this unhurried way that made me want to scream.

"You coming?" he asked, like he actually cared.

"In a minute."

He didn't leave. Instead, he sat down next to me and said, "My mom makes me take these gross chewable vitamins. Like I'm five."

I stared at him. Jordan? The guy who'd literally made varsity as a freshman? Had mom-enforced vitamin routines?

"No way," I said.

"Way. And I hate papaya." He kicked at a slice on the ground. "But my abuela keeps sending it, so I pretend to like it."

Another lightning strike illuminated everything—his crooked front tooth, the way he hunched like he was trying to disappear, the loneliness in his eyes that looked exactly like how I felt.

"We should probably go inside," I said.

"Yeah." He stood up. "Hey, you wanna play padel tomorrow? I promise not to laugh if you suck."

"I don't suck," I lied, even though I'd never held a padel racket in my life.

He laughed anyway, and it wasn't mean. "Good. Because I need a partner who can actually hit the ball."

As we ran toward the house through the sudden downpour, I didn't feel invisible anymore. Sometimes the storms you dread are the ones that finally wash everything clear.