Deep End Surveillance

The pool deck at 6 AM smells like chlorine and questionable life choices. I'm tying my goggles when Maya catches my eye across the lane ropes, doing that little head tilt thing that means everything is chill between us. Ever since the party last weekend—where I definitely didn't have a panic attack in the bathroom—we've been in this weird vibe space. Not fighting, but not solid either.

Coach Miller's got the TV mounted in the corner playing the morning news, same as always. The coaxial cable behind it has been hanging loose for months, curling around the wall bracket like a dead snake. Lowkey drives me crazy every time I see it. I'm tempted to just fix it myself, but that would require interacting with Coach about something other than my split times, and honestly? Hard pass.

"Hart! You're drifting!"

I push off the wall, diving into the cool blue. Swimming has always been my thing—the one place where my brain actually shuts up. No overthinking every social interaction, no wondering if everyone secretly finds me annoying. Just me, the water, and the rhythmic thrum of my own heart.

But today, my head's not in it. During breaststroke drills, I notice the cable again. Something's different. It's pulled taut now, running behind the storage cabinet instead of dangling loose. Weird.

After practice, I pretend to be digging through my bag for something I definitely didn't forget, watching from my peripheral vision as Maya reaches behind the cabinet and plugs something into the cable connection. Then she presses her ear against the wall, like she's listening for something.

What.

She's been acting off all week—distracted, skipping lunch, bailing on our study session yesterday. I'd assumed she was just over me and our entire friendship situation. But this? This is some proper spy behavior.

I wait until she leaves the pool deck before creeping over. There's a small device attached to the cable—some kind of audio receiver, maybe? No, wait. It's a WiFi extender. Her house is in a dead zone, so she must be boosting from the school's network to talk to someone without using her data. Or to avoid her parents monitoring her usage?

The realization hits me like, actually extremely hard. Maya's not pulling away from me. She's dealing with something heavy enough that she has to sneak internet access at 6 AM just to handle it.

I hear the door click open.

Maya freezes when she sees me standing there, hand halfway to the extender like she's been caught stealing something. For a second, nobody says anything. The pool hums softly in the background.

"I'm not gonna snitch," I say finally. "But also, that setup is tragic. I could literally show you how to VPN from your phone in five minutes."

She exhales, shoulders dropping. "My mom's been monitoring everything since my grades dropped. I'm just—I'm trying to figure some stuff out without her knowing."

"Gotcha." I pause. "But like, if you needed help with the figuring stuff out part, you know I'm down, right? Not to be weird about it."

Maya studies me for a second. Then she smiles—actually smiles, not the fake one she's been wearing all week.

"Yeah. I know."

We walk out together, and I don't even mind that my hair smells like chlorine for first period. Some things are worth it.