Thunder Pool Party

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The backyard chaos of Tyler's end-of-summer party swirled around him—laughter, splashing, and the bass of some playlist he pretended to know. He was that awkward kid who showed up because his mom said he needed to "get out there more."

"Yo Marcus, you gonna stand there all night or actually jump in?" called Chloe, the girl he'd been lowkey crushing on since seventh grade. She was treading water in the deep end, her hair slicked back, giving him that look that made his stomach do backflips.

"I'm good," he mumbled, even though the humidity was making his clothes stick to him like second skin.

Suddenly, the sky went purple. *Lightning* cracked somewhere distant, then closer. A collective gasp rippled through the party as thunder rattled the porch chairs. Everyone scrambled out of the pool, grabbing towels and phones. Marcus watched Chloe laugh as she shook *water* from her hair, droplets flying everywhere like glitter. She caught him staring and offered that half-smile that made his chest tight.

Great. Now he was the only dry person at a cancelled pool party. Smooth.

His phone buzzed. Mom: "How's it going, sweetie? Did you make friends?"

Marcus rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Then someone shouted, "Kitchen table baseball!" and suddenly the party shifted indoors. A couple of guys set up a plastic bat and crumpled paper ball, taking turns swinging between the island and counter. Marcus hovered near the fridge, pretending to examine a container of questionable-looking *spinach* dip like it held the secrets of the universe.

Chloe materialized beside him. "That stuff's been there since Memorial Day. Just saying."

Marcus laughed despite himself. "I was just trying to look busy."

"Yeah, I got that." She grabbed a soda. "So, baseball, huh? You play?"

"Nah. I'm more of a 'sit on the bench and try not to look awkward' kind of guy."

"Same," she said, and something in her voice made him look up. "I mean, I act like I've got it together, but I'm just pretending." She nodded toward the kitchen game. "That could be us out there, but I'd probably trip over my own feet."

The thunder rumbled again, quieter this time. Marcus realized his phone was still in his hand, Mom's last message unanswered. He slid it into his pocket without looking.

"Want to play?" Chloe asked, gesturing toward the makeshift baseball game. "We can be terrible together."

Marcus grinned. "Yeah. Actually, yeah."

As they joined the game, paper ball flying everywhere, Marcus thought maybe Mom had a point. Sometimes you just had to jump in—even if you couldn't swim and the party was technically over.