When Lightning Strikes the Mound

Marcus stood on the pitcher's mound, his heart racing faster than a fastball. Junior varsity baseball tryouts, and he'd already walked three batters. Coach Miller's clipboard was basically his death warrant at this point.

"You okay, kid?" Coach yelled from the dugout. "You look pale as a ghost."

Marcus nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. His mom had made him swallow some vitamin D supplement that morning, claiming he looked "peaky." Whatever that meant. Now his stomach felt like it was doing gymnastics.

Storm clouds gathered overhead. The air crackled with that heavy electricity that makes your hair stand up. Parents in the bleachers were packing up, but Coach Miller insisted on "one more inning."

Marcus wound up for his pitch—then BAM. Lightning struck the backstop fence. Sparks flew everywhere. The sky turned this weird purple-green color, and suddenly Marcus felt different. Like, really different.

His arms bulked up. His jersey ripped at the shoulders. He could see individual threads spinning in the air. When he squinted at the opposing batter, the guy's skeleton was visible through his skin.

"Whoa," someone whispered. "Is Marcus... glowing?"

Coach Miller's jaw dropped. "Did that lightning just—"

Marcus wound up again. This time, the ball exploded from his hand like a cannon. It practically disintegrated the catcher's mitt. The batter screamed and dove into the dirt. Home plate fractured down the middle.

Everyone stared. Marcus's hands were literally crackling with blue energy. His vitamin-enhanced blood was basically a lightning conductor now.

Then the unthinkable happened. The school mascot—a guy in a bear costume—stumbled onto the field, probably trying to distract everyone from the chaos. But the bear suit caught fire from the static electricity coming off Marcus.

"BEAR DOWN!" the mascot yelled, frantically patting out the smoldering fur. "I mean, bear DOWN! Literally!"

The baseball team lost it. Even Coach was cracking up. Marcus stood there, still crackling with leftover energy, grinning like an idiot.

He'd made the team, but more importantly, he'd survived middle school's most embarrassing moment with style. The lightning strike gave him superpowers for like twenty minutes, sure, but the real victory? Finally being the guy everyone remembered at graduation for something awesome instead of for throwing up in the cafeteria during sixth period.

Small wins.