I woke up the next morning to the sun shining in from the clock tower's face.

I felt weak. My stomach growled and I remembered that I hadn't eaten anything since an early dinner the night before. I pulled myself to my feet and instantly, I became light headed. Something wasn't right.

I can't really remember anything until I walked through the door. My mom was on her cell phone with the police in the front room.

Kicking off my sneakers I stepped onto the carpet. I had no clue how to talk to my mother when she was this worried. I should have waited until she saw that I was home. Instead, I walked to the chair she was sitting in and gave her a hug around the shoulders, using her head as a headrest. Dropping the phone, mom burst into tears, holding me close. With no words to fully explain my feelings, I started crying too.

Dad ran through the kitchen door and paused in shock. I turned to greet him.

"Where were you and why didn't you call me? Your father and I were worried sick about you." mom said through her tears.

"I got hit by lightning," the words were barely believable even for me.

"Are you alright? We need to take you to the hospital."

"I'm okay," I said, "I just have a really bad headache."

"Why don't you go lie down," my mom said, "I'll make you some breakfast and then you can relax."

I reached into my bag for my phone. The screen had cracked and many of the wires were visible. It looked like I had run over it with a semi. Mom's face went white. I explained what had happened last night when I accidentally killed my phone.

I could no longer withhold my tears. My dad held me close, stroking my hair as I sobbed into his shoulder. Every third or fourth tear contained a tiny bolt of electricity. I was not hurt by them though I feared my dad would be. This realization only made me more upset.

"It's okay," mom said, joining the moment by gently placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No it's not!" I yelled into my dad's shoulder, "It's not okay. I can't even cry without hurting anyone."

I broke away from my parents and ran up the stairs into my bedroom with all the angst of the seventeen-year-old I was. This kind of garbage didn't happen to girls like me. This shouldn't have been possible. All I wanted was to go and hang out with my friends at homecoming like every other kid at my high school.

Just then, the doorbell rang. My heart fell into my stomach as I noticed the time. 10:00. I heard my dad tell Josh that I had a rough night last night and that I was still feeling under the weather today. My date's response sounded understanding though I knew he must have been disappointed.

I couldn't sleep. There was too much to worry about. Staring out my window, I watched the sky turn a cotton candy pink as the sun began to set. I watched moms taking pictures of their daughters in their yards as many of my peers were heading off to homecoming. I should have called Josh and apologized. I broke out a piece of notebook paper and a pen and started to write.

Josh,

I owe you an apology. Sorry I didn't call or text you.

I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash can by my desk. Ripping out another notebook page, I decided to try to write again.

Josh,

Let me explain. I was struck by lightning on Friday night, and I felt awful on Saturday.

I ripped up the paper into a million pieces of confetti. How was he going to believe that even if it was the truth?

I heard a knock at the door. Thinking fast, I found some snow gloves in my closet and slipped them onto my hand before turning the metal door knob. My mom was standing in the doorway holding the home phone with the receiver to her shoulder.

"It's Garrison."

Awkwardly, I took the phone with my heavily gloved hand and lifted it to my ear. When I remembered that the phone was plastic, I removed the gloves and held it normally.

"Hello?"

"Hey Tess"

"Hi"

"You okay?" he asked.

"I've been better," I said, "Why aren't you at the dance?"

"They had a local photographer take pictures."

"That's rough," I said.

"Well, there's always senior pictures I guess."

The sound of his voice was exactly what I needed. We talked for an hour until his family called him for dinner.

"Well, I've gotta go," he said, "Do you think you'll be to school Monday?"

"I don't know yet," I said.

"I hope so," I could hear him smiling through the phone.

"Thanks for calling." I said.

"See you Monday."

"See ya."