The first time Max Thunderman met Melanie Martinez, she shocked him. Literally.

He had been six years old, climbing the jungle gym at the park, completely focused on his latest evil plan: stealing his sister's spot as their parents' favorite. He had it all figured out—if he could pull off something impressively villainous (but not too villainous), his mom and dad would finally admit that he was obviously the superior twin.

But then, right as he was about to put phase one into action (which mostly involved dumping a bucket of sand onto Phoebe's head), something sharp zapped his arm.

"Ow!" Max yelped, spinning around. His gaze landed on a tiny girl with wild curls and an oversized hoodie, standing a few feet away. Her hands were clenched into fists, and tiny sparks danced between her fingertips.

"Sorry!" she blurted, eyes wide. "I didn't mean to—sometimes it just—"

Max blinked at her, rubbing his arm. "Did you just electrocute me?"

Melanie's shoulders hunched. "A little?"

Instead of running away or calling her a freak—like some of the other kids had done before—Max just stared at her, curiosity replacing his initial annoyance.

"Cool."

Melanie hesitated. "Cool?"

"Yeah. I mean, I shoot lasers out of my hands, so I get it. Powers are weird sometimes." He tilted his head. "Are you, like, part alien or something?"

She giggled—an actual giggle, like she couldn't believe he just said that. "No! I just—" She hesitated, then wiggled her fingers, sending out a small spark. "Electricity. It happens when I get nervous."

Max smirked. "So you were nervous when you zapped me."

Melanie's face burned. "Shut up."

He laughed. "Okay, fine. But you owe me now."

"Owe you for what?"

"For zapping me. That was, like, a solid three out of ten on the pain scale."

She frowned. "Wait, what's the scale?"

"One is stubbing your toe. Ten is getting hit by a bus."

Melanie stared at him. "You've been hit by a bus?"

"Not yet, but I'm planning for the future."

She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but before she could decide, Max plopped down on the grass and patted the spot next to him. Hesitantly, Melanie sat.

"So, what do I owe you?" she asked.

Max thought for a moment, then grinned. "You have to help me with my evil plan."

Melanie blinked. "You have an evil plan?"

"Obviously."

"Does it involve setting something on fire?"

"Not this time."

She considered him, then shrugged. "Okay. But if I get caught, I'll just electrocute you again and run away."

Max's grin widened. "See, I knew I liked you."

That was the start of it—the first of many schemes, many disasters, and many, many shocking moments (both literal and otherwise).

Years later, when they were older and life got harder, when whispers in the hallways replaced playground teasing and insecurities grew bigger than jungle gyms, Max would still be there.

And every time Melanie felt like she was losing control, Max would remind her, in his own sarcastic and slightly chaotic way, that she never had to face it alone.

When Max Thunderman was eight years old, he decided that thunderstorms were boring.

Sure, they were loud, and yeah, lightning was cool, but once his parents made him come inside, there wasn't much to do besides watch Phoebe be an annoying goody-two-shoes and pretend he wasn't secretly a little scared of the thunder shaking the house.

So when a storm rolled in one summer evening, Max did what any future supervillain would do—he grabbed a flashlight, a stash of snacks, and snuck out to his top-secret hideout in the backyard: the rickety old treehouse no one used anymore.

What he didn't expect was to find someone already there.

"AHHH!"

"AHHHHHH!"

Max nearly dropped his flashlight as a small figure shrieked at him from the corner of the treehouse. He fumbled with the light, shining it toward the intruder—only to find a very familiar face curled up in a blanket, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Melanie?" he blurted.

Melanie Martinez sat cross-legged in the corner, her hoodie pulled over her head and a flashlight of her own clutched tightly in her hands. Her curls were frizzier than usual, and the moment she moved, Max saw little sparks flickering at her fingertips.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was coming to hang out in my treehouse," Max said, stepping inside. "What are you doing here?"

Melanie huffed, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I didn't know it was yours."

"Well, it is," Max said proudly, plopping down on the wooden floor. "It's my evil lair."

She raised an eyebrow. "Your evil lair?"

"Yep."

Melanie rolled her eyes. "It's a treehouse, Max."

He gasped dramatically. "How dare you."

Despite herself, Melanie giggled, but then a crack of thunder rattled the sky. She flinched, curling into herself as her hands sparked again.

Max noticed.

"You scared of storms?" he asked, more curious than teasing.

Melanie scowled. "No."

Another boom of thunder. Another flicker of sparks.

Max gave her a look.

"...Okay, maybe a little," she admitted, sinking further into her blanket. "Thunder's too loud. And sometimes when I get scared, my powers freak out, and then—"

She waved her hands, as if that explained everything.

Max watched the way the tiny sparks danced between her fingers, the way her shoulders tensed like she was trying to hold herself together.

"That's not so bad," he said finally.

Melanie frowned. "What?"

"Your sparks." He shrugged. "They're kinda cool."

She stared at him, searching for any sign of sarcasm. But Max wasn't making fun of her. He was just... saying it. Like it was a simple fact.

She looked down at her hands. "Most people think they're weird."

"Most people are boring."

Melanie peeked up at him. "Are you boring?"

"Obviously not."

Another boom of thunder, but this time, Melanie barely flinched. Max, however, had another idea.

"Hang on," he said, digging through his backpack. After a second, he pulled out a bag of gummy worms and tossed it onto her lap.

Melanie blinked at it. "What's this for?"

"Distraction," Max said, grabbing a handful for himself. "If you're eating, you won't be thinking about the storm."

Melanie hesitated, then ripped open the bag and popped a gummy worm into her mouth.

They sat there for a while, passing the bag back and forth, listening to the rain hammer against the roof of the treehouse. Every time the thunder rolled in, Max would start talking about something completely random—his latest evil plan, a ridiculous story about Billy getting his head stuck in the banister again, or a detailed argument on why capes were not a dumb villain accessory.

By the time the storm started to pass, Melanie wasn't thinking about the thunder anymore.

"Hey, Max?" she said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

She hesitated, then gave him a small, shy smile. "Thanks."

Max, of course, just smirked. "For what? Giving you my snacks? Because I will expect payment for that."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "You're the worst."

"And yet, you're still here."

Melanie didn't reply, but for the first time all night, her hands weren't sparking.

And in the dim glow of their flashlights, surrounded by the last fading rumbles of thunder, she realized something—maybe storms weren't so scary when you had someone willing to sit through them with you.

Melanie Martinez wasn't sure why she'd agreed to come over to the Thundermans' house after school. It had been a rough day — whispers in the hallways, snide comments from classmates, and that gnawing feeling of never quite fitting in. Even though she tried to brush it off, the weight of it was suffocating.

But Max had invited her over, and despite his constant teasing, he had a knack for knowing when she needed a distraction.

They were in the Thundermans' backyard now, surrounded by the faint hum of cicadas and the warm glow of the setting sun. Max was lounging on the grass, tossing a ball in the air while Melanie stood by the pool, staring at the rippling water. Her fingers twitched as she absentmindedly summoned small crackles of electricity between her hands.

"You look like you're about to conduct a science experiment," Max said, breaking the silence. "Should I be worried?"

Melanie forced a laugh. "Only if I accidentally fry the pool pump."

Max grinned. "Hey, as long as I don't get electrocuted, we're good."

But his lighthearted comment triggered something inside her — a sudden, sharp memory she had tried to bury.

She was eight years old, standing at the edge of a different pool. Kids were pointing and laughing.

"Freak!"

"Electric girl's gonna short-circuit!"

"Careful, she might zap you!"

The words echoed in her mind, growing louder and louder. She had been messing around with water and electricity back then too, trying to impress the other kids. But when they turned on her, her emotions spiraled out of control. The surge of energy had been too much. She'd lost control and accidentally shocked herself, collapsing in front of everyone.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave, and before she knew it, her hands were glowing with crackling energy. The sparks danced dangerously close to the water.

"Melanie?" Max's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "Hey, are you okay?"

But she couldn't hear him. The electricity intensified, sparks flying from her hands. Her breathing became shallow and erratic. Tears blurred her vision as the memory of that day consumed her. The humiliation, the pain, the fear—it was all too much.

"Melanie!"

Suddenly, Max was in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. "Breathe," he said firmly. "Look at me."

She tried, but the panic clawing at her chest was relentless. The electricity crackled louder, and a bolt shot dangerously close to the pool.

Max didn't flinch. "Hey, hey, listen to me. You're not there anymore, okay? You're here. With me." His voice was calm but steady. "You're safe. Just let it go."

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to control the surge of power. Max tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Deep breath, Mel. In and out. Come on."

She forced herself to follow his instructions, inhaling shakily and exhaling slowly. The electricity flickered, then faded, until her hands were still.

Max let out a breath. "There you go. See? No sparks, no explosions. Just you."

Melanie's knees buckled, and Max caught her, guiding her to sit on the grass. She buried her face in her hands, her body trembling.

"I-I lost control," she whispered. "Just like before. I almost—"

"But you didn't," Max said firmly. "And you're not that kid anymore. You're stronger now."

She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "Why do you even care?"

Max shrugged, his usual smirk softened by genuine concern. "Because you're my friend, Sparky. And friends don't let friends blow up backyard pools."

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped her. "You're such an idiot."

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," he teased.

Melanie wiped her face, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. Max might be a pain most of the time, but in that moment, he was exactly what she needed. And for that, she was grateful.

At eight years old, Max Thunderman decided he was going to take over the world.

Or, at the very least, his elementary school.

He had everything planned out—his villain name (still a work in progress), his evil lair (the Thundermans' basement when his mom wasn't looking), and his first big scheme (replacing the school's morning announcements with an ominous broadcast declaring himself Supreme Ruler of Third Grade).

There was just one problem.

His teacher, Mr. Howard, wouldn't let him sit in the back of the classroom.

"Max, you sit up front so I can keep an eye on you," Mr. Howard had said, pushing him toward the second-row seat he'd been stuck with all year.

It was an outrage. A villain of his caliber should be lurking in the shadows! He needed the back row—where the real evil masterminds sat.

Max grumbled as he slumped into his seat, arms crossed. He was in the middle of planning his revenge when someone plopped down beside him.

"Hey, Max."

Max glanced over to find Melanie Martinez dropping her backpack onto the desk next to his. She looked as exhausted as he felt, her wild curls sticking up in every direction like she'd just finished running from the world's scariest game of tag.

"You look terrible," Max said helpfully.

Melanie shot him a tired glare. "Thanks."

"What happened?"

She groaned, resting her forehead against her desk. "Derek happened."

Max frowned. Derek Watterson. The most annoying kid in their class.

"What'd he do?"

Melanie lifted her head, looking irritated. "He said my hair looks like a tumbleweed, then told me that if I ever get struck by lightning, I'd explode."

Max clenched his jaw. He had plenty of experience dealing with annoying kids, but something about Derek messing with Melanie made his blood boil.

"Want me to put hot sauce in his juice box?" Max asked casually.

Melanie snorted, but then hesitated, tilting her head. "Wait... you can do that?"

Max smirked. "Oh, I have ways."

Before Melanie could respond, a new voice interrupted.

"Ugh, why do you always sit next to him?"

Max sighed dramatically. He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was—Cassidy Reed, the class know-it-all and self-proclaimed leader of their grade (which was a lie, because Max was obviously going to be the one in charge).

Melanie sat up a little straighter. "Because I want to," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Cassidy wrinkled her nose like she'd just smelled something gross. "But he's Max Thunderman. You do know he's, like, weird, right?"

Max grinned. "Flattered, really."

Cassidy ignored him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'm just saying, Melanie, you could sit anywhere else. Like, literally anywhere."

Melanie rolled her eyes. "And I'm just saying, I don't want to sit anywhere else."

Cassidy scoffed, but before she could argue, the bell rang. She gave Max one last look of disgust before strutting off to her seat.

Max turned back to Melanie, eyebrows raised. "Wow. That was kinda awesome."

Melanie shrugged, but he could see the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks. "She's annoying."

"Yeah, but you basically just declared loyalty to my evil empire, so."

Melanie snorted. "Oh, did I?"

"Yep. You're stuck with me now. Hope you're ready for a life of crime."

She giggled, shaking her head. "Fine. But only if you promise to put hot sauce in Derek's juice box."

Max's grin widened. "Melanie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

And from that day on, they were a team.

No one quite understood why Melanie, the girl with lightning at her fingertips, always chose to sit next to Max. And no one understood why Max Thunderman, future supervillain, always had a soft spot for her.

But if you asked Max?

He'd just smirk and say, "Every villain needs a sidekick."

When Max Thunderman was ten years old, he nearly lost his title as Evil Genius Extraordinaire.

And it was all because of Melanie Martinez.

It had started as a simple, foolproof plan—take control of the neighborhood snowball fight, establish himself as Supreme Commander of Team Max, and crush all opposition (mainly Phoebe, because she was an insufferable goody-two-shoes who always acted like she was in charge).

Everything had been going great. Max had built the most epic snow fort imaginable—complete with a moat (a trench filled with extra snow) and an arsenal of perfectly packed snowballs. His team—Billy, Nora, and a few neighborhood kids—were ready to dominate.

And then Melanie defected.

Traitor.

"Melanie," Max hissed from behind the fort's walls. "What are you doing?"

She grinned at him from across the battlefield, standing beside Phoebe with a smug expression. "Joining the winning side."

Max gasped. "You're siding with Phoebe?!"

Melanie shrugged. "She bribed me with hot chocolate."

Max turned, glaring at his little sister. "NORA! WHY DIDN'T WE THINK OF BRIBES?!"

Nora huffed, crossing her arms. "You said our team was above bribery."

Max groaned. "I SAY A LOT OF THINGS, NORA!"

Across the battlefield, Phoebe smirked. "You ready, Team Awesome?"

"Lame," Max coughed into his glove.

"ATTACK!" Phoebe shouted.

Chaos erupted. Snowballs flew from every direction. Kids dove behind makeshift barriers. Billy somehow managed to throw a snowball at himself.

Max was in the middle of launching a rapid-fire attack when he spotted Melanie sprinting across the battlefield. She was fast—darting past snow explosions, dodging incoming attacks, her wild curls bouncing as she ran.

Max narrowed his eyes. She's up to something.

Then he saw it—the giant, massive snowball she was carrying.

Oh, no.

"SHE'S GOT A SNOW NUKE!" Max yelled, pointing at her.

Melanie cackled. "Say your last words, Supreme Commander!"

Max braced himself as she launched the snowball with deadly accuracy—

And hit him directly in the face.

The impact knocked him backward into the snow, and for a moment, everything was silent.

Then—

"MAX IS DOWN!"

"RETREAT!"

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!"

His own team abandoned him.

Traitors. All of them.

Max groaned, wiping snow off his face. "I hate you."

Melanie stood over him, hands on her hips, absolutely beaming. "No, you don't."

He glared at her. "You betrayed me."

"Technically, I never promised to be on your side," she pointed out, offering him a hand.

Max stared at it for a second before begrudgingly taking it. She pulled him to his feet, still grinning like she'd just won the lottery.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Max muttered.

"Oh, so much."

He wiped snow from his hair, scowling. "You're evil."

Melanie smirked. "I learned from the best."

And despite himself—despite his ultimate defeat—Max couldn't help but smile.

Because, sure, she was an infuriating, backstabbing menace...

But she was his infuriating, backstabbing menace.

And even as the other kids celebrated their victory, Max realized something.

He didn't actually mind losing.

Not if it meant she was the one who beat him.

Melanie Martinez's twelfth birthday was supposed to be perfect.

At least, that's what her mom kept saying.

The decorations were pink and gold everything (which was not Melanie's idea), there was a giant unicorn cake (also not her idea), and way too many people her mom insisted on inviting. But Melanie didn't really care about all that—she just wanted to have a good time with