Dead Inside at the Party

The pool water glowed that fake electric blue, the kind that looks good on Instagram but feels like chemicals on your skin. I stood at the edge, orange soda in hand, watching everyone else live their best lives while I stood there feeling like a total zombie.

Three hours of sleep will do that to you.

Maya splashed me from the pool, sending a wave of chlorinated water over my sneakers. "Live a little, Jensen!"

Easier said than done when your former best friend was currently making out with your ex by the diving board. Classic Caleb move, honestly. I'd been dead inside since Friday night when I found out through a leaked screenshot that they'd been talking for weeks.

"Your turn," someone said behind me.

I turned to find this guy I'd seen around school but never actually talked to. Jordan. The one with the bear tattoo on his forearm that everyone whispered about because how did he even get that at sixteen? He held out this plastic bottle of something that definitely wasn't soda.

"I don't do—"

"It's water," he said, deadpan. "Not everyone at this party is trying to get wasted."

I took it. Cold condensation against my palm. "Thanks. I think."

Jordan leaned against the side of the pool, watching Maya and Caleb with this expression I couldn't read. "They're exhausting, aren't they?"

"Who?"

"All of them." He gestured vaguely at the whole scene. "Like, why does everything have to be so much? Every feeling, every moment, every hashtag-worthy event has to be performed for an audience. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only real person here and everyone else is just going through the motions."

Zombie. The word hit me different coming from him.

"Yeah," I said, finally understanding. "Exactly."

We stood there in comfortable silence while someone's phone blasted that song that's been stuck in everyone's head for weeks. The orange sky was fading into purple, that perfect summer evening lighting that makes everything feel important even when it's not.

"You know what," Jordan said, kicking off his shoes. "Let's just jump in. Clothes, soda, all of it."

I looked at my carefully curated outfit, at the people watching, at Caleb who'd finally noticed I existed again.

Then I handed Jordan my orange soda, took a running start, and cannonballed into the deep end.

Water everywhere. Chaos. Laughter that was actually real this time.

Sometimes you have to create your own moments instead of waiting for someone else to include you in theirs.