Lightning at the Zombie Pool

I stood by the pool, feeling like a total zombie after three hours of Maya's Sweet Sixteen. The social pyramid at Lincoln High had crowned Maya queen, and here I was, hovering near the snack table like some awkward background character.

"Hey! Earth to Jordan!" Zara yelled, cannonballing into the water. "Get in here!"

I hesitated. The pool looked amazing—glowing with underwater lights, surrounded by palm trees—but my brain was stuck in overthink mode. What if my hair frizzed? What if someone noticed my one-piece was last season's Target special?

Then I saw Tyler, the guy I'd been lowkey crushing on since bio lab, standing alone by the deep end. Looking as lost as I felt.

CRACK.

Lightning split the sky, illuminating everything in this crazy purple flash. The pool shimmered like liquid silver. Someone screamed—playfully—and suddenly everyone was splashing, laughing, dancing as the storm rolled in.

"Whatever," I muttered, and dove in.

The water was perfect. Cool and refreshing, washing away the anxiety, the overthinking, the constant mental tally of who was sitting where and what it meant for the social hierarchy.

Tyler looked over, grinning. 'Bout time you joined the party.'

We treaded water together as real lightning flashed again, closer this time. We talked about nothing—homework, the weird zombie movie we'd watched in English class, how Mr. Henderson's pyramid scheme of extra credit was basically extortion.

'Maybe we should study together sometime,' he said, all casual.

'Maybe,' I said, trying to play it cool while internally screaming.

The lifeguard blew the whistle—storm warning. Everyone scrambled out, grab- bing towels, running toward the covered patio. But for a minute there, floating in that glowing pool, I wasn't the quiet girl in the back row. I wasn't overanalyzing every microexpression.

I was just Jordan. And that was enough.