Fox in the Palm Trees

Summer in Miami hit different when your mom decided hosting an exchange student was the move. Enter Camila from Brazil, who made everything in my bedroom look basic, including me.

"Try this," she said, slicing into a papaya like it was nothing. "In Brazil, we eat this for breakfast."

I'd never even touched a papaya. My breakfast was usually whatever Pop-Tart survived the apocalypse in our pantry. But when Camila looked at you with those amber eyes, you said yes to everything.

That Friday, she dragged me to Mateo's pool party. The whole school was there—kids who'd never looked at me twice suddenly splashing around in Mateo's infinity pool like they owned the place. I stood by the palm tree, phone in hand, watching like a total creep.

"You're not gonna swim?" Camila asked, already in her bikini, looking like she'd stepped out of a music video.

"Nah, I'm good."

"Liar."

She grabbed my hand, her palm soft against mine, and pulled me toward the water. That's when I saw him—Ryan, the guy I'd been lowkey obsessed with since seventh grade—talking to Sierra by the deep end. Sierra, who wore Gucci to school. Sierra, whose hair always looked perfect.

"I can't do this," I muttered, pulling back.

Camila rolled her eyes. "You're being a fox, Cleo."

"A what?"

"You know—sly, waiting in the shadows. But sometimes you have to pounce."

She was using Portuguese slang wrong, but somehow it made sense. I'd been spying on my own life from the sidelines, watching everyone else live it.

Ryan laughed at something Sierra said. My stomach did that thing it always did when he looked at her, which was never at me.

"One cannonball," Camila whispered. "I dare you."

"You first."

She grinned. "Bet."

Camila sprinted toward the pool and launched herself into the air, screaming something in Portuguese. The splash hit everyone—Ryan, Sierra, the whole popular crew. They all turned, dripping and surprised, and for once, nobody looked cool. Just wet.

I stood there for exactly three seconds before running and jumping in after her.

The water was perfect. Ryan smiled at me, actually smiled, like he was seeing me for the first time. Camila high-fived me under the surface, her eyes bright with conspiracy.

Later, we'd lie on chaise lounges eating papaya slices while the sun set, watching the palm trees cast long shadows across the pool deck. I wasn't invisible anymore. I wasn't spying from the edge.

Sometimes you just need someone to push you in.