Chlorine Lies and Orange Pills

The invitation sat on my phone screen like a dare. Marco's pool party. Saturday. 2-6.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair had revolted overnight — frizz exploding like I'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket, curls rearranging themselves into some kind of avant-garde disaster art installation. Mom shouted from the kitchen that she'd bought those hair vitamins I'd begged for, the expensive ones from the TikTok where that girl with impossibly shiny waves swore by them.

"They're supposed to make it grow faster and look healthier," I muttered to the mirror, applying my third attempt at taming the chaos.

By Saturday afternoon, I stood at Marco's back gate, heart hammering like I was about to walk into final exams instead of a party. The sound of laughter and splashing drifted through the fence. Everyone would be there. Everyone who mattered, anyway.

I'd spent the morning researching pool party etiquette like my life depended on it. Two-piece or one-piece? Bring a towel or assume they have extras? What if I forgot something obvious and spent the whole time looking like I'd never been outside before?

"Hey!" Marco's little brother opened the gate, already wet and dripping. "You made it."

The backyard transformed into something magical. String lights crisscrossed above the pool, even though it was still daylight. Music played from somewhere — actual good music, not that stuff our parents thought we liked. People sprawled on lounge chairs, eating chips and talking in that easy way people do when they've known each other forever.

And then I saw her.

Jasmine sat by the deep end, surrounded by like three boys who looked genuinely interested in whatever she was saying. Her hair fell in these perfect beach waves that probably happened naturally because the universe was unfair. She wore this vintage-style swimsuit that looked somehow effortless and intentional at the same time.

"Vitamin D deficiency is actually super common," she was saying as I got close enough to hear. "That's why I started taking these supplements instead of worrying about sunscreen every single second. Balance, right?"

She pulled a small orange bottle from her bag — the same brand my mom had bought for me. The same exact hair vitamins.

"Wait," I said, without actually deciding to speak. "You take those too?"

Jasmine looked up, and for a second I forgot how to breathe. "Oh my god, yes! Have you noticed a difference? My hair grew like an inch last month."

"I literally just started," I admitted, and somehow we were talking about hair care routines and then music and then how Marco's dad always makes too much food at these things.

Later, when we were both in the pool, chicken fighting on opposite teams because Marco insisted it was mandatory, she looked over at me and grinned. "I'm glad you came, by the way. I was hoping you would."

The water felt perfect. My hair was definitely a mess, chlorine turning it into some kind of weird texture situation. But I didn't care. "Yeah," I said. "Me too."