Lee's sneakers scuffed the cracked sidewalk as he trudged home, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders like a backpack stuffed with bricks. The sting of Coach Grayson's brush-off still burned, and the image of Ino giggling with Trevor looped in his head like a TikTok he couldn't scroll past.
It wasn't fair. Why did guys like Trevor get everything, playing time, popularity, girls like Ino, while Lee was stuck on the sidelines of life? He kicked a pebble, watching it skitter into the gutter.
If only he had influence, that golden ticket everyone else seemed to flash so effortlessly. He wanted to be somebody, to walk into a room and have people notice, to have his name mean something.
He let himself dream for a second, picturing a different life. What if his family was rich, like Trevor's? Or prominent, like Jaden's dad, who had his name plastered on the school's new gym?
Lee imagined pulling up to school in a sleek Benz, wearing kicks that cost more than his mom's monthly rent, with Ino smiling at him instead of some trust-fund jerk. He could see himself on the court, draining threes while the crowd chanted his name, Coach Grayson finally giving him the nod he deserved. Influence would fix everything, open every door, silence every doubt.
But reality crashed back like a missed shot at the buzzer. Lee's family wasn't rich or prominent. They were just… regular. His mom worked double shifts at the hospital, coming home with bags under her eyes and stories about rude patients.
His dad spent his days under cars at the auto shop, hands stained with grease that never quite washed off. They provided for Lee and his younger brother, Orlo, no question. Rent was paid, there was always food on the table, and Lee had a roof over his head.
He couldn't blame them, they were doing their best, grinding to keep the family afloat. But "best" wasn't enough in a world that only cared about clout. Lee hated himself for even thinking it, but sometimes he wished they were just a little richer, a little more connected. Just enough to give him a shot at the perks everyone else seemed to be born with.
At home, Lee flopped onto the sagging couch in the living room, the familiar creak of the springs greeting him like an old friend. Orlo, his 12-year-old brother, was already sprawled out, hogging the remote as usual. The TV blared some reality show about rich kids throwing tantrums over custom sneakers, which only soured Lee's mood further.
He grabbed a bag of off-brand chips from the coffee table, the kind his mom bought in bulk to save a few bucks, and crunched loudly, trying to drown out his thoughts.
"Yo, change this crap," Lee muttered, nudging Orlo with his elbow. "Put on some highlights or something."
Orlo rolled his eyes but flicked to ESPN, where a recap of last night's NBA games was playing. Lee leaned back, letting the sound of squeaking sneakers and cheering crowds wash over him. For a moment, he could pretend he was out there, ball in his hands, making plays.
But the fantasy faded as thunder rumbled outside, low and menacing. Rain started pattering against the windows, soft at first, then harder, like someone was throwing handfuls of gravel at the house.
"Ugh, here we go," Orlo groaned, hopping up to close the blinds. Lee followed, tugging the frayed curtains shut, the room growing dim as the storm picked up.
They settled back on the couch, the TV flickering slightly but still holding strong. LeBron was on the screen now, posterizing some poor defender, and Lee couldn't help but smirk. That could be him one day, if the world would just give him a damn chance.
Then, without warning, the TV cut to static, the harsh white noise slicing through the room like a knife. Lee sighed, already knowing what was up. "Antenna's messed up again," he said, tossing the chip bag onto the table.
The rain always knocked their janky rooftop antenna out of whack. It was a cheap fix, climb up, nudge it a bit, and the signal would come back. But it was annoying as hell, especially in a downpour.
"I'll get it," Lee said, hauling himself off the couch. Orlo didn't even look up, already scrolling on his phone, probably texting his group chat about some Fortnite drama. Lee grabbed his hoodie from the armrest, pulling it over his head as he stepped toward the back door.
The air outside was thick with moisture, the rain coming down in sheets now, drumming against the roof like a trap beat. He shivered, eyeing the small aluminum ladder propped against the house, its rungs slick with water. This was gonna suck.
He stepped into the storm, the cold rain soaking through his hoodie in seconds. The ladder wobbled slightly as he climbed, his sneakers slipping on the wet metal. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the antenna at the top, a rusty relic that looked like it belonged in a museum. "Just nudge it, Lee," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the rain. "Get it done, get back inside."
He reached the top, gripping the ladder with one hand as he stretched toward the antenna. His fingers brushed the cold metal, and he gave it a quick shove to the side. The static in his head, imagining the TV signal clearing up, kept him going.
One more nudge, and… there. Done. He started back down, careful but quick, eager to get out of the rain.
Then it happened. His foot slipped on a rung, the slick metal betraying him. Time slowed as he flailed, his hands scrabbling for the ladder, but it was too late. He fell, the ground rushing up to meet him.
He landed hard, his body twisting at a sickening angle. Pain exploded in his neck, sharp and blinding, like someone had driven a spike through his spine. He tried to gasp, but no air came.
His chest tightened, his vision blurring as warmth spread across his neck, blood, he realized dimly, leaking from ruptured veins and arteries. His heart thudded, slow and heavy, each beat weaker than the last. The rain kept falling, cold against his skin, as the world faded to black. This was it. He was done.
But then, his eyes snapped open. No pain. No rain. No hard ground digging into his back. He was… somewhere else. A soft bed cradled him, the mattress plush and warm, nothing like the lumpy twin he slept on at home.
The air smelled faintly of lavender, not motor oil or damp laundry. He blinked, disoriented, his heart racing but steady, like he hadn't just died. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating?
A figure leaned over him, and Lee's breath caught. She was stunning, like she'd stepped out of a movie set.
Her eyes were wide and shimmering, her hair cascading in soft waves, her skin glowing under the soft light of… wherever this was. Her expression was sad, almost heartbroken, but as she noticed his eyes open, her face lit up like a sunrise. "Lee!" she cried, her voice musical, warm, like a song you couldn't stop humming. She threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug so tight he could feel her heartbeat.
Lee's brain short-circuited. This girl, this angel, was hugging him, her body pressed against his, her chest squishing against him in a way that made his face burn. He didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't about to question it. Overwhelmed, he leaned up, his lips brushing her cheek in a clumsy, excited kiss, his heart screaming, This is my moment!
But then …crack! A sharp sting bloomed across his face, and he reeled back, stunned. The girl pulled away, her eyes narrowed, her lips twisted in a frown. "You perv," she snapped, her voice laced with disgust. "Trying to kiss your own sister? What's wrong with you, Lee?"