Dead in the Water

The bass from Jordan's backyard speakers thumped against my ribs as I stood by the **pool**, clutching my red Solo cup like it was a life preserver. Senior year pool party. Instagram-ready moment. And me? Maximum awkward energy.

I'd been **running** on three hours of sleep and pure anxiety since finals week started. My GPA was borderline, my college applications were due, and my mom kept asking if I'd "found myself" yet. Spoiler: I had not.

Then I saw him—Lucas, floating motionless in the deep end, face up, eyes closed. For a solid three seconds, my brain went to the worst possible place. Actual zombie apocalypse vibes.

"Yo, is Lucas okay?" I whispered to Tasha, who was casually scrolling TikTok.

She didn't look up. "He's fine. Just in his zone."

His zone. More like his **zombie** mode. Lucas had been walking through school like the undead for weeks—pale, distant, responding to texts with single letters. The guy who used to make everyone laugh during lunch now sat at the edge of the courtyard, staring at nothing.

I set my drink down and somehow found myself wading into the pool. Cool water swallowed my legs as I moved toward him.

"Lucas?" I splashed some water at his face.

His eyes flew open. "What—"

"You looked dead."

He blinked up at the sky, then at me. "Maybe I am."

"What's going on with you?"

Lucas sat up, water dripping from his hair. "My parents are getting divorced. My dad moved out last week. I haven't told anyone."

The confession hung between us like smoke.

"I thought you were just... I don't know, being mysterious for Instagram," I admitted.

He laughed—actually laughed. "Bro, I'm barely functioning."

"Same, though."

"You? You're like, perfect."

"Lucas, I've been to three colleges this week and cried in a parking lot twice. We're all just pretending to know what we're doing."

He splashed me back. "So what now?"

"Now we stop being zombies. Now we actually talk about stuff."

"And we get out of this pool before your shoes are ruined."

"Yeah. That too."

Later, as we dripped pool water across the patio, Lucas didn't seem so distant anymore. Neither did I. Maybe that's what growing up actually meant—not having it together, but finding people who were falling apart right alongside you.