Diving In

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, chlorine stinging his nose. This was supposed to be the party of the year—Jenna's end-of-summer blowout—but somehow he'd spent the last forty minutes holding the same red plastic cup, pretending to be deeply interested in the playlist.

His dad's fishing hat sat pulled low on his forehead, a pathetic shield against the world. When he'd grabbed it that morning, thinking it added mysterious vibes, his sister had literally laughed out loud. Now he was stuck with the fashion disaster of the century.

"Yo Marcus!" called Derek, the guy who somehow made everything look effortless. He and Jenna were swimming laps, looking like something out of a music video. "Get in or get out, bro—you're blocking the Instagram setup."

Right. The photo wall. Because what's a pool party without documenting every awkward moment for posterity?

Marcus's phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably his group chat wondering where he'd disappeared to. He'd been ghosting them all week, ever since he'd almost told Maya how he actually felt about her, then chickened out last second. Again.

"Marcus!" Jenna's voice cut through his spiral. She waved him over. "We need one more for chicken fights. Derek's being too tall about it."

He glanced around. Everyone was watching. The cute juniors, the seniors whose names he still didn't know, Maya, who'd shown up wearing that swimsuit that made his brain short-circuit.

This was it. The moment. Either he stayed the kid on the edge in the ridiculous hat, or he—

Marcus grabbed the hat off his head and chucked it onto a lawn chair. His hair was messy from wearing it all day, but whatever. He cannonballed into the deep end, water everywhere, surfacing to Jenna's legitimate cheers and Derek's approving nod.

"Finally!" Jenna paddled over. "You're on my shoulders. We're taking them down."

As she boosted him up, Marcus caught Maya watching him. She was smiling. Actually smiling.

His phone could wait. The group chat could wait. For once, Marcus wasn't on the edge of anything—he was right in the middle of it.