Lifeguard Stand Secrets

The whistle around my neck felt heavier than it should. Maybe because I'd spent the entire summer pretending I knew what I was doing. Maybe because every time Marcus Richardson climbed out of the pool, water dripping like he was in some music video, my palm would sweat against my binoculars.

I wasn't even supposed to be using them. But technically, scanning for drowning victims was part of the job. The fact that Marcus was currently practicing for regionals in lane four was just a coincidence.

Okay, fine. I was basically a spy now. A low-rent, minimum-wage, socially awkward spy whose biggest operation was trying not to be obvious about watching the guy I'd had a crush on since seventh grade.

"You're doing it again," Lena whispered, flopping onto the lifeguard stand next to mine. She cracked open her bright orange vitamin water—that stuff that smelled like fake passionfruit and cost seven dollars at the snack shack. "The binoculars? Creepy."

"I'm scanning for hazards," I lied. "Professional vigilance."

"Right. Because the main hazard at the community pool is definitely Marcus's backstroke form." She took a long sip. "You know he's not gonna magically notice you from up here. This isn't a movie."

I knew she was right. That was the worst part.

Marcus had been swimming competitively since he was six. I'd only learned last year, after my dad said something about how everyone should know basic water safety and then signed me up for lessons at the Y where nobody knew my name. Now I worked here, which was basically the same as being a professional observer.

My phone buzzed in my bag. Mom reminding me to take my vitamins. I'd been throwing them in the trash behind the pool shed since June because they made me feel like throwing up, and I was already anxious enough without my multivitamin betraying me.

"Hey." Marcus was suddenly at the base of my stand, wet hair plastered to his forehead, dripping onto the concrete. "I, uh, noticed you at the coffee shop that one time. With the sketchbook?"

My brain stopped working. "What?"

"Your drawings. They're actually really good." He rubbed the back of his neck, kind of nervous? Was he nervous? "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd want to, like, get smoothies after your shift?"

Lena was losing her mind beside me, silently.

"Yeah," I said, and my voice actually didn't shake. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Marcus grinned. "Cool. See you at four."

As he walked away, Lena high-fived my arm. "See? No spy tactics necessary. Although," she added, nodding at my trembling hand, "you might want to work on the poker face before four."