The Storm Before the Strike

Maya's grip on the bat was sweaty, and not just because the air was thick with that heavy, storm-coming silence. The baseball diamonds behind the rec center were empty—everyone else had bailed when the sky turned that weird purple-green color. But Maya needed this. Needed to swing at something.

"You're gonna get yourself struck by **lightning**," said Zara, sitting on the bleachers with her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like she wasn't technically trespassing. "Your mom's gonna kill you if she finds out you're still here."

"She's working late. Double shift at the hospital." Maya adjusted her stance, visualizing the pitch. "Anyway, I need the practice. Tryouts next week."

"You're already the best first baseman the school's seen since, like, forever." Zara's voice softened. "This isn't about **baseball**, Maya."

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket. Probably Jordan. Probably asking why she wasn't at his party tonight, why she'd ghosted him after he'd spent weeks making it obvious he wanted to be more than friends. She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for any of it—high school, expectations, everyone acting like being fifteen meant you had to have your entire life figured out.

The first drop of rain hit her arm like a warning shot.

"I should go," Maya said, but didn't move.

"Yeah, you should." Zara stood up, frowning at the sky. "Also, I think the **cable** guy is finally coming tomorrow. Your dad said he'd fix the internet since we've been stealing WiFi from the neighbors for like, three months."

Maya laughed. "Finally. I can't believe we survived this long with buffering TikToks."

"Priorities, honestly." Zara's grin faded. "But seriously, Maya. Jordan's a good guy. You don't have to—"

"I'm not ready." Maya's voice cracked. "Is that okay? Is it okay that I don't know what I want?"

Something flickered in Zara's eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or relief. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay."

The first real crack of thunder shook the ground. A jagged line of lightning split the sky, and for a second, everything was bright as day. Bright as possibility.

Maya dropped the bat and grabbed her bag. "Race you to your house?"

"You're on."

They ran through the warm rain, and Maya didn't check her phone once. Some storms weren't meant to be outrun. They were just meant to be felt.