Chlorine & Truth

The vitamin D gummies sat on my dashboard like a judgment from my mother. 'Don't forget,' she'd texted. 'You're pale as a ghost.' Thanks, Mom. Really pumping up my confidence here.

Marcus's pool party was already popping when I pulled up. I could hear the bass through the car windows—some new trap song everyone was obsessing over. My hands were practically shaking on the steering wheel because, get this—I'd been invited. Me. The girl who ate lunch in the library for three semesters straight.

"You coming?" Sarah's voice made me jump. She was leaning against my door, dripping wet, bikini bright against her skin. Sarah, who I'd been lowkey obsessed with being friends with since freshman year.

"Yeah. Just. Parking situation." So smooth. Truly.

She laughed, but not mean. "The pool's warmer than your car, promise."

The backyard was chaos in the best way. People cannonballing, someone blasting music, those little finger sandwiches that fancy moms always make. I stationed myself near the snack table because that's what anxious people do—we hover near food.

That's when I saw it. A cat. A scrawny orange tabby crouched under the hedge, watching the party like it was analyzing human behavior for a documentary.

"That's Mango," Marcus appeared beside me with two sodas. "Showed up last week. Lives under the deck now."

"Cool." I took the soda because refusing would've been awkward. "So. This is... nice."

"Yeah." He leaned against the table. "Hey, you're in AP Lit with Sarah, right?"

My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to organ function. "Yeah."

"She thinks you're smart. Like, actually smart. Not fake smart." He nodded toward where Sarah was laughing with some seniors. "She told me you wrote that essay about mental health in The Great Gatsby. Said it made her cry."

The vitamin gummies suddenly felt very heavy in my pocket. I'd been so focused on wanting to be noticed that I hadn't considered what would happen if someone actually saw me.

"I mean," I shrugged, trying to play it casual, "it was just... depression is pretty central to the whole novel, right? Nick's basically watching Gatsby spiral from the sidelines."

"Exactly." Marcus's eyes lit up. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Nobody else gets that deep with it."

Sarah jogged over, water droplets clinging to her arms like diamonds in the sun. "Y'all having a deep conversation without me? Rude."

"We were talking about your literary analysis skills," Marcus said.

Sarah groaned. "Ugh, don't expose me." She grabbed my arm. "Come on. Pool's not gonna swim itself. Also Mango looks like he's judging everyone and I need a witness."

I let her pull me toward the water, toward the noise and the splashing and the terrifying possibility that maybe—just maybe—I belonged here.

The vitamin D could wait. I had bigger things to figure out. Like whether to cannonball or ease in slowly. Like whether Sarah was just being nice or if this was the start of something real.

I jumped. The water was shocking and perfect and loud, washing away the doubt, at least for now.