Goldfish in the Deep End

The pool party at Ryder's house was exactly the kind of social disaster scenario that made my skin feel like it was three sizes too small. Ryder's nickname was Bull for a reason – the dude was built like a brick wall and had the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Last week, he'd literally dunked Marcus in the chocolate fountain at the winter formal because Marcus had the audacity to wear the same color tie.

I sat on the edge of the diving board, legs dangling in the water, watching everyone else living their best lives. Swimming through the social hierarchy at Westwood High was exhausting enough on dry land – throw in bikinis and chlorine, and I was ready to yeet myself into the sun.

Then I saw her. Luna. The girl I'd been lowkey obsessed with since September, when she'd defended me from Mr. Harrison after I forgot my chem lab report for the third time. She was floating in the shallow end, looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else.

I decided to channel my inner spy. Not like, creepy spying – just, observing from a tactical distance. I slipped off the diving board and drifted toward the shallow end, pretending to be fascinated by the pool filter.

"Nice technique," Luna said, and I almost swallowed half the pool.

"Uh, what technique?"

"The way you're swimming laps around actually talking to anyone," she said, and I realized she'd been watching me too. "You look like a goldfish that's realized it's in a bowl but hasn't figured out how to escape yet."

I laughed, because she wasn't wrong. "That's basically my entire personality."

"Same," she said, paddling closer. "Bull's been trying to get me to play chicken fight for twenty minutes. I've been pretending I don't know how. Which is obviously ridiculous since we're in swim club together."

"Wait, you're in swim club?"

"Since I was seven. I just hate being the center of attention." She flicked water at me. "Hey, you want to get out of here? There's this amazing bubble tea place two blocks over."

My heart did that embarrassing fluttery thing. "Absolutely. But we're sneaking out, right? Bull will make us participate if he catches us."

"Oh, we're definitely spying our way out," she grinned. "Follow my lead."

We slipped away like teenagers who'd just discovered that the best way to survive high school was finding your people and ghosting the rest. The goldfish had finally figured out how to jump the bowl – and the deep end wasn't actually that scary after all.