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Lightning Over Chlorine

lightninghatfriendsphinxpool

Maya pulled the brim of her bucket hat lower, wishing she could disappear into its shadow. The pool party was loud with music and splashing freshmen, and she'd been standing by the snack table for twenty minutes pretending to be deeply interested in a bag of Doritos.

"You look like you're solving the riddle of the Sphinx over here," said Riley, sliding up beside her. Her best friend since fourth grade, now somehow transformed into a varsity jacket-wearing stranger who'd barely texted back all summer.

"Just thinking," Maya muttered, though the truth was she'd been replaying their last conversation — the one where Riley had said maybe they should hang out with different crowds this year, because, like, people were already talking.

A crack of **lightning** split the sky, purple veins threading through gray clouds. The pool crowd screamed and scattered toward the covered patio. Maya didn't move. Rain started falling, warm and sudden, plastering her hair to her face.

Riley laughed — actually laughed, not fake Instagram laugh — and kicked off her flip-flops. "Remember when we were eleven and swore we'd swim in your pool during every storm?"

"Until my mom caught us and literally grounded us for a month."

"Worth it." Riley grabbed Maya's hand. "Come on. Nobody's watching."

They sprinted toward the **pool**, diving in fully clothed as the rain turned torrential. Underwater, everything was muffled and blue and weightless — no freshmen to impress, no varsity expectations, just the two of them suspended in chlorinated suspension.

When they surfaced, gasping, Riley's waterproof mascara was running down her cheeks like war paint. "I missed you," she said, before she could stop herself. "The new crowd is exhausting, Maya. It's like performing, all day."

Maya shoved her wet **hat** back. "Then don't perform."

Riley looked at the partygoers huddled under the patio, then back at Maya. "Yeah. Okay. But you're taking off that hideous hat first."

They treaded water as the storm passed, floating under the first stars, not saying anything at all.