Lightning Over Chlorine

Maya stood at the edge of the pool party, clutching her phone like it was a life raft. Jordan's house was packed — basically half the sophomore class, all in various states of swimsuited confidence. Maya was in her one-piece, the one her mom said was "practical but cute," which was basically code for "you won't embarrass yourself too much."

Her phone buzzed. Mom, naturally: Did you take your vitamin D gummies? You know how you get in winter.

Maya rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt. YES, MOM, she typed, then shoved the phone deep in her beach bag. This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to come. Who needed vitamin reminders when you were busy hyperventilating about social suicide?

"Hey, you gonna stand there all night or actually get in?" It was Sam. Sam, with their stupid perfect hair and Sam, who Maya had been lowkey obsessed with since October.

"Uh," Maya said, brilliant as ever. "Just. Waiting for the right moment?"

"Pool's not gonna get warmer," Sam grinned, and then — catastrophe — they SPLASHED her. Cold water everywhere, Maya squeaking like a total loser, dignity evaporating.

She wiped her face, ready to fake-laugh it off, when something caught her eye. Jordan's cat, Marshmallow, a fluffy monstrosity that hated everyone, was perched on the patio table, watching her with what looked distinctly like judgment.

Maya froze. Something about that cat's gaze — like it knew. Like it knew Maya was faking it, knew she didn't belong here, knew she was just waiting for someone to expose her as a fraud.

"You good?" Sam's voice softened.

And then Maya heard it — her actual, honest-to-god laugh. Because what was she doing? Standing at a pool party, having an existential crisis because a cat roasted her?

"Yeah," she said, and actually meant it. "Yeah, I'm good. Just got owned by Marshmallow over there."

Sam followed her gaze, then cracked up. "Dude, that cat hates everyone. You should feel honored."

The sky chose that moment to open up. Lightning cracked, white-purple brilliance painting everything sideways. Someone screamed. Then everyone was running, laughing, grabbing towels, pooling under the patio overhang as rain sheeted down in wild applause.

Maya ended up squished between Sam and Marshmallow (the cat, deeply affronted, was now being cradled by Jordan). Water dripped from her hair, her swimsuit, her fingertips. She looked at Sam, who was grinning like they'd just won the lottery.

"Worst party ever?" Sam offered.

"Best," Maya said, and felt it down to her toes. "Absolutely the best."