Chlorine and Orange Soda

The orange soda was flat, just like my mood. I sat by the pool, legs dangling in the cool water, watching Maya laugh with her new friends across the deck. Three weeks ago, that would've been us—thick as thieves, attached at the hip, whatever cliché applied to best friends who did everything together.

Now she didn't even know I'd spent two hours straightening my hair.

"You look nice," a voice said behind me.

I jumped. It was Bear—Tom, technically, but everyone called him that because of that oversized hoodie he wore even in July. He'd been Maya's lab partner since September, the quiet guy who sat in the back of AP Bio.

"Thanks," I mumbled, suddenly self-conscious. "You're... here."

"Yeah. Maya invited me." He shuffled his feet. "Can I sit?"

I shrugged, and he settled onto the pool edge beside me. For a while we just watched the water ripple, listening to the distant splash of the cannonball contest.

"She talks about you," Bear said suddenly.

"Sure she does."

"No, really." He turned to face me. "She thinks you're mad at her."

"I'm not mad. I'm just... I don't know. We used to be close, and now—" I stopped myself. Why was I telling him this?

Bear nodded slowly. "Friendships change. That's what my sister says. Freshman year, her and her best friend drifted apart too."

"Great. So this is just... what happens?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you both just need to actually talk." He stood up, offering me his hand. "Come on."

"Where?"

"To get fresh orange soda. And then we're going over there, and you're going to talk to Maya."

I looked at his hand, then at Maya still laughing across the pool. My hair was starting to frizz in the humidity, and I probably had chlorine stripes on my legs.

But weirdly, I didn't care as much as I had five minutes ago.

"Okay," I said, taking his hand. "But if she doesn't want to talk, you're buying me pizza."