The Lightning We Missed

I stood at the edge of the pool, toes curled against the wet concrete, heart hammering like I'd just chugged an entire energy drink. The**water** shimmered under the pool lights, turning the deep end into something that looked suspiciously like a portal to another dimension—one where I wasn't the most unathletic person at Northwood High.

"You got this, Maya," Lucas called from the pool deck. He adjusted his **baseball** cap backward, because apparently that was the universal signal for friendly confidence. He'd made varsity as a sophomore. I'd once gotten hit in the face with a dodgeball in PE and had to go to the nurse.

I'd taken my daily **vitamin** that morning. Mom said it was for growth, but I was pretty sure nothing could fix whatever genetic defect made me incapable of basic motor skills.

"Just jump," someone yelled. "It's not rocket science."

What they didn't get: for some of us, it kind of was.

I looked around at everyone watching. Chloe from my English class. That junior who I'd almost asked to homecoming before realizing I didn't actually possess that level of courage. The new guy, Mateo, who I'd been lowkey staring at in AP Bio for three weeks straight.

And then it happened—that thing that only happens when you're already socially compromised.

A crack split the air. Not the reassuring kind of thunder that rolls in like, 'Hey, just passing through.' The violent kind, the kind that sounds like the sky's about to rip itself open.

**Lightning** flashed so bright everything turned white for a second. Someone screamed. And then the sky just opened up—rain coming down in sheets, that sudden downpour that makes everyone forget whatever they were doing and just start running.

"Pool's closing!" the lifeguard shouted through a megaphone.

Everyone scattered. Lucas grabbed his stuff, Mateo bolted toward the parking lot, and within thirty seconds, I was standing alone in the rain, still in my swimsuit, completely dry because I'd never actually jumped in.

And then I started laughing.

Just—laughing. Because what was I even scared of? The water? Looking stupid? Both of those things were already happening.

I jumped in.

The pool was empty, rain falling everywhere, the sky still doing its dramatic **lightning** thing every few seconds. I swam actual laps, terrible form, zero technique, not caring that I'd never make a team or impress anyone.

When I finally got out, Mateo was standing under the overhang, watching. He didn't say anything, just handed me a towel.

"You looked like you were having fun," he said.

"Yeah," I said, dripping water everywhere. "I guess I figured out that nobody's actually watching as closely as I think they are."

He smiled. "Well. I was watching."

Maybe there's something to be said for terrible timing. The storm ruined everything, and somehow, that made everything okay.

I didn't become athletic that day. But I stopped letting the fear of looking ridiculous hold me back from living. That's gotta count for something, right?