Chlorine Dreams and 1%

Maya hovered at the edge of the pool party like a ghost, her phone clutched in a death grip at 12% battery. The screen glowed with 47 unread notifications—everyone was *here*, while she was merely *present*. Her mom had pushed those obnoxious gummy **vitamin** supplements on her all week. "You need vitamin D, Maya! You never go outside!" The irony wasn't lost on her now.

Across the pool, Jordan leaned against the patio furniture in his faded **bear** hoodie—well-worn, paint-stained, undeniably cool. They'd been in bio together since September, and Maya had spent approximately zero seconds not thinking about his hands.

Her **iphone** buzzed one last time before surrendering to the black screen of doom.

Panic. Then clarity.

Without her digital crutch, Maya was forced to actually *look* at people. The way Gemma's laugh carried across the water, genuine and unfiltered. How Tyler's crew cut was already growing out in fuzzy patches. The chlorine smell that somehow promised everything would be okay.

Jordan slipped into the **pool**, surfacing near the edge where Maya stood frozen. He shook water from his hair like a golden retriever, droplets scattering everywhere.

"Hey," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey," Maya managed. Her heart performed gymnastics.

"You gonna stand there all day or actually get in?"

She hesitated. The Maya from three minutes ago would've retreated into her phone, scrolled through Instagram, convinced herself she didn't belong here. But 12% battery had become 0%, and sometimes the universe forces your hand.

"Yeah." She slipped off her sandals. "Yeah, I'm getting in."

The water shocked her system—cold, electrifying, real. Jordan grinned, and something in her chest unfurled. Maybe her mom was right about the fresh air thing. Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Race you to the other side," Jordan challenged.

"You're on."

And for the first time all day, Maya wasn't thinking about her phone at all.