Thunderstruck at the Homecoming Game

Marcus's mom had butchered his hair. Like, actually destroyed it. What was supposed to be a subtle trim turned into a disaster that made him look like a buzz-cut victim of a tragic accident.

"It'll grow back," she'd said breezily, while Marcus stared in the mirror, horrified.

Now here he was, Friday night, standing by the snack bar at the homecoming game, running a hand over his pathetic stubble and sweating through his flannel. Chloe was across the gym, looking perfect in her vintage sweater, laughing with her friends. Marcus had been crushing on her since freshman orientation, but he'd never actually managed to say more than three words to her without his voice cracking.

His best friend Jake nudged him. "You gonna spy on her all night or actually talk to her?"

"I'm not spying," Marcus protested, even though they both knew he totally was. "I'm... observing. For strategic purposes."

Jake rolled his eyes. "You're being creepy. Just go over there."

Easy for Jake to say. Jake had hair that actually cooperated with him and had successfully asked three girls to homecoming this month alone. Marcus was still recovering from his failed attempt to ask Sarah to the movies last week, which had ended with him accidentally knocking over a display of birthday cards at the bookstore.

Suddenly, the gym lights flickered. A storm had been brewing all day, and now thunder rattled the windows. The principal announced over the PA that everyone should move to the cafeteria until the weather passed.

In the chaos of shuffling students, Marcus found himself pressed against the wall near the trophy case. And there was Chloe, standing right beside him, her hair static-frizzy from the storm, looking strangely nervous.

"Hey," she said, catching him staring. "You're Marcus, right? From English?"

His stomach did that lightning-fast swoop thing. "Yeah. Hi."

"I like your hair," she said, and he almost laughed because she was obviously lying, but then she added, "It's brave. I wish I could do something different with mine but I'm too chicken."

Before he could respond, the school mascot — a senior in a bull costume — came galloping past, knocked over by a group of rowdy juniors. The bull head went flying off, revealing a sweaty-faced guy yelling profanity. Everyone cracked up, including Chloe, and Marcus found himself laughing too.

"That's Kevin from my math class," she said. "He's going to be so embarrassed Monday."

"Yeah," Marcus said. "Total disaster."

"Hey," she said, looking at him sideways. "You want to grab pizza tomorrow? My treat, since you almost got trampled by a bull."

Outside, real lightning flashed, illuminating her smile.

"Yeah," Marcus said, his voice not cracking even a little. "I'd like that."

And somehow, looking at her grin and the rain streaking the gym windows, his terrible haircut didn't seem like such a tragedy anymore.