Market Crash at the Pool Party

Maya's hair refused to cooperate. She'd spent forty-five minutes trying to tame the frizz, but the humidity had other plans. Great. Just great. The biggest pool party of the summer, and she looked like she'd been electrocuted.

"You look fine," her little brother Leo said from the living room, not looking up from his video game. "Dad's in a bear market mood anyway. He won't notice."

Maya rolled her eyes. Their dad, a day trader who lived and died by stock market fluctuations, had been dragging them all week with his "correction" horror stories. Last night at dinner, he'd spent twenty minutes explaining how bull markets climb the wall of worry while bear markets slide down the slope of hope—whatever that meant.

"Whatever." Maya grabbed her phone. "I'm leaving. Tell him I'll be back by eleven."

The backyard was already packed when she arrived. Someone had dragged an old TV outside, connected via a ridiculously long orange cable that snaked through the shrubbery. They were watching music videos, shouting over the splashing.

Maya spotted CJ near the shallow end, talking to some seniors. Her stomach did that thing it always did when he was around—like gravity had shifted. She'd been crushing on him since seventh grade, when he'd defended her from that bully Jason in the cafeteria.

"Hey!" Her best friend Priya appeared, dripping wet. "Finally! Come in!"

Maya hesitated. Her hair. Her swimsuit. Everything felt wrong.

"I—"

Then CJ turned and saw her. Actually saw her. He waved.

"Maya!" he called. "We were just talking about you. That history project you helped me with? Saved my life."

Her feet moved before her brain could overthink it. She dropped her towel on a lounge chair and slipped into the water. Cool relief. The anxiety washed away with every stroke.

They ended up on the deck, CJ sitting way closer than necessary, both of them watching some documentary about animals someone had put on. They were learning about grizzly bears when the conversation turned.

"So," CJ said, all casual like his heart wasn't probably pounding too. "You doing anything this summer? Besides, like, existing and stuff?"

Maya laughed. "Maybe. Depends."

"On?"

"On who asks."

He grinned. The kind of grin that made everything inside her go warm and liquid.

"Well," he said. "Consider it asked."

Her hair was a disaster. She probably smelled like chlorine. And her dad would definitely be in some kind of market mood when she got home. But looking at CJ, Maya decided she didn't care about any of it.

Sometimes, she thought, you just had to dive in. Bull or bear market, frizz or no frizz—you either made a splash or you watched from the edge.

She was done watching.