When Lightning Strikes

Maya's heart was doing that thing where it felt like a trapped bird trying to escape her chest. Tyler from AP Chem had actually noticed her new haircut. He'd said, "Looks good, Ramos," and she'd somehow managed to respond with something resembling normal human speech instead of whatever garbled nonsense her brain was screaming.

That was three hours ago. Now she was at Quinn's house party, standing on the back porch while Tyler explained why his dog was basically a genius. The porch lights were off—solar powered, Quinn had said, and they'd been charging all day but wouldn't turn on. Whatever. The dim lighting was actually perfect. It hid the fact that Maya's hands were shaking.

"So," Tyler said, leaning against the railing. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to—"

CRASH.

Lightning split the sky, illuminating everything with the brilliance of a camera flash gone wrong. In that split second, Maya saw three things: Tyler's surprised expression, the massive **dog** charging through the open back gate, and the open bag of **spinach** dip some freshman had abandoned on the railing.

The dog—a golden retriever with zero respect for teenage romance moments—leaped. Spinach dip exploded. Maya's favorite **hat**, the vintage bucket hat she'd thrifted last month, went flying. Everything happened in slow motion, like one of those movie scenes where the protagonist embarrasses themselves so thoroughly that time itself stops to witness it.

More lightning flashed. The dog, now wearing spinach like a green facial, happily retrieved Maya's hat and presented it to Tyler with a proud woof.

"Oh my GOD," Quinn shrieked from the doorway. "That's Mrs. Henderson's dog!"

Maya wanted to dissolve into the porch boards. She wanted to become one with the architecture. But Tyler—Tyler was laughing. Not like, mean laughing. Like, actually laughing, head thrown back, shoulders shaking, until he was almost wheezing.

"That was," he gasped, "literally the most chaotic thing I've ever seen."

"I'm so sorry," Maya started, but Tyler interrupted her.

"Are you kidding? That was awesome." He wiped spinach dip from his cheek. "Way better than whatever boring thing I was about to say."

He looked at her—really looked at her, spinach in his hair and all—and grinned. "So. About that question I was asking before the dog happened."

Maya took a breath. Her heart was still racing, but now it felt different. Like electricity, like the storm that was building overhead, like the possibility that some disasters are actually just beginnings.

"Yeah?" she said. "What were you gonna ask?"