Three Seconds of Thunder

My goldfish—appropriately named Flash because he lasted exactly three seconds before dying—was currently floating sideways in his bowl on my nightstand. Great. Another funeral I'd have to fake my way through while my mom posted about it on Facebook with that crying emoji.

"You coming to track practice?" Maya yelled from downstairs, sounding like she'd already consumed three energy drinks. Maya, who had been my best friend since we accidentally swapped lunches in fourth grade and discovered we both had the same weird obsession with pickles.

"Yeah!" I shouted back, grabbing my phone. Three notifications from Jordan. Jordan, who sat behind me in chem and smelled like vanilla and expensive hair products. Jordan, who I'd been practically running away from since the homecoming dance incident.

Outside, the sky looked like someone had taken a gray marker to it—those weird clouds that mean either nothing or everything. Perfect weather for my life.

Track practice was its usual chaos. Coach Miller was in one of his moods, screaming about "digging deep" and "leaving it all on the field" while we all secretly checked our phones under our knees. I was doing laps, my brain running through approximately 47 different scenarios of what would happen if I actually replied to Jordan's texts, when it happened.

Lightning.

Actual, literal lightning struck the field's light pole, and the entire stadium went dark. Someone screamed—pretty sure it was Tyler, which was honestly iconic—and then everyone was laughing and running toward the locker rooms in the chaos.

I ended up squeezed under the concession stand overhang with Jordan. Because the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

"Hey," Jordan said, vanilla scent cutting through the rain-smell and teenage sweat. "I've been trying to talk to you."

"I know," I said, my heart doing something that felt suspiciously like what Flash must have felt right before he went belly-up. "I've been... avoiding that."

"Why?" Jordan's phone lit up with a notification, casting blue light on their face. "Is it about the dance? Because I thought we had a moment."

We did have a moment. That was the problem.

"Yeah," I admitted, while rain poured down and someone's playlist started playing from somewhere—sounding like muffled bass in the distance. "I overthink everything. Like, everything-everything. My emotional regulation is garbage, Jordan."

Jordan laughed, and it was this genuine sound that made something in my chest unclench for the first time in weeks. "Same, though. Want to maybe hang out without all the..." They gestured at the storm, the chaos, the entire situation "...this energy?"

"Yeah," I said, and I wasn't running anymore. "Yeah, I'd like that."