Catalina's Last Summer

The orange paddle ball smacked against the wire fence — that satisfying *thwack* that meant you'd actually hit it right. Maya wiped sweat from her forehead, her braces catching the sun. She'd never played padel before summer camp, but somehow she'd gotten scarily good at it.

"You're insane at this," Leo said from the other side of the court. He was tall now. When did that happen? Sixth grade he'd been the shortest kid in their class, doing that thing with his hair to make it look taller. Now he was looking at her like he was actually seeing her.

Maya's stomach did that annoying flip thing. Not the butterfly feeling — that was for middle schoolers. This was different. Worse.

"Wanna hit the pool after?" Leo asked.

Her brain short-circuited. THE pool. The place where everyone hung out, where social rankings shifted in real time, where last summer Emma's strapless top had fallen down and she'd become either a legend or a cautionary tale depending on who you asked.

"Yeah," Maya heard herself say. "Just gotta check on Barnaby first."

Barnaby was the camp cat — an ancient orange tabby who appeared at random intervals to judge everyone silently. Maya had adopted him as her emotional support animal for the summer. He was currently asleep on her duffel bag, looking like a loaf of bread with attitude.

She found him later behind the cabins, chewing on something.

"Barnaby, no—"

Too late. The orange spit out a dead mouse at her flip-flops.

"Thanks, buddy. Really. That's exactly what I needed."

By the pool, everyone was already there. Emma and her minions holding court on the loungers, the cool guys playing chicken, someone with a Bluetooth speaker blasting that song that played everywhere. Maya felt suddenly thirteen again, standing at the edge of everything.

Then Leo waved from the deep end. "Maya! Get in here!"

She hesitated. Then someone tossed her an orange soda. It was cold, condensation dripping. She caught it.

Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.