Chlorine Dreams & Static Hearts

The summer before sophomore year, Maya's mom insisted she take this chewable **vitamin** every morning. 'It'll help with the stress,' she'd said, as if a neon-orange gummy could fix the fact that Maya didn't have a squad, didn't have a boyfriend, and barely had the courage to raise her hand in math class.

Now she stood at the edge of Jenna's **pool** party, wearing a swimsuit that felt way too much like actual skin, watching everyone else bob in the turquoise water like they'd been born there. Jenna—head cheerleader, human embodiment of confidence—launched herself off the diving board, perfect form, perfect everything.

Maya considered faking a text. I'm so sorry, something came up. But then she'd be that girl. The one who couldn't even show up.

She noticed another girl sitting alone on a pool chair, scrolling through her phone with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb. The girl looked up, caught Maya's eye, and did that tiny nod teenagers do when they're acknowledging mutual awkwardness.

'That show?' The girl pointed at Maya's phone, which displayed a paused episode of 'Midnight Radio,' that niche sci-fi series everyone's **friend** group supposedly watched but no one actually did.

'Oh my god, you watch it too?' Maya's voice cracked. 'I thought I was the only one.'

'I literally just binged all three seasons because my **cable** got cut and I needed something to stream,' the girl said. Her name was Riley, and she had the kind of laugh that sounded like she meant it.

They spent the next hour dissecting plot theories while everyone else did pool games. Maya learned that Riley had just moved here, that she painted her nails black but always chipped them immediately, and that she was possibly the funniest person Maya had ever met.

When Jenna cannonballed near them, splashing water everywhere, Maya didn't even flinch. She was too busy watching Riley demonstrate exactly why the season two finale was a betrayal to everything good in storytelling.

Later, as they sat on the concrete edge, feet in the water, Riley said, 'This vitamin water tastes like actual despair.'

Maya laughed so hard she almost choked. 'Trade you for my vitamin gummy? It's supposed to help with stress but mostly just tastes like artificial orange.'

'Deal,' Riley said, and when their fingers brushed, Maya felt something shift—not a crush, exactly, but the quiet certainty that she'd found something real.

Her phone buzzed: Mom checking in. Are you making friends?

Maya typed back: Actually, yeah.

And for the first time all summer, she didn't feel like she was faking it.