Orange Soda & Poolside Courage

Marcus stood by the solo cups, clutching his warm soda like a lifeline. The house party raged around him—bass thumping, people he'd known since middle school suddenly transformed into strangers with Snap streaks and vape smoke. His best friend since kindergarten, Jayden, was somewhere inside, probably talking to Sarah with the perfect hair.

Marcus slipped out the sliding glass door into the backyard. The November air bit his bare arms as he made his way to the pool's edge, where the water reflected string lights like trapped stars. He needed a minute. Three weeks into freshman year and everything felt wrong—friend groups shifting, inside jokes he didn't understand, the sudden pressure to be someone he wasn't sure he wanted to be.

"Nice night for it."

Marcus jumped. A girl sat on the pool ledge, legs dangling in the water, orange hair catching the patio lights. Chloe. She'd transferred in October and already had that mysterious aura that made everyone whisper in the bathroom line.

"Yeah," Marcus managed. "Just needed some air."

"Party"—she made air quotes—"gets loud. I'm out here conducting important research." She nodded toward the corner of the yard.

A cat crouched in the shadows, eyes reflecting gold. It wasn't just any cat—its face was split perfectly down the middle, calico on one side and black on the other. Like it couldn't decide who it was supposed to be.

"That's Biscuit," Chloe said. "My neighbor's cat. She shows up whenever there's people. Kind of an emotional support animal, except she supports exactly no one."

Marcus laughed. He couldn't help it. The cat stared at them with intense judgment, like it knew they were both hiding from the same thing.

"I feel like that cat," Marcus blurted, then immediately wished he could dissolve into the pool. "Like, half me wants to be inside having fun, and the other half wants to hide under a porch."

Chloe studied him. "The sophomore bear hibernation instinct. Valid."

"The what?"

"Second-year bear," she said, like it was obvious. "In nature, young bears spend their first learning to bear. By their second year, they're just tired. They want to sleep and eat berries and not deal with bear drama."

"Is that real?"

"Absolutely not," she grinned. "I made it up five seconds ago. But you believed it, so now it's science."

Marcus smiled—for real this time. The knot in his chest loosened. They sat there talking for twenty minutes about nothing: their weird English teacher, why school pizza should be classified as a weapon, whether plants had feelings. It was easy. It was nothing like the performative conversations inside.

When Jayden finally found them, he raised an eyebrow. "Dude, I've been looking everywhere. Sarah's friend Maya wants to meet you."

Marcus looked at Chloe, who was already standing up, dusting off her jeans. The moment was over. But as she walked toward the house, she turned back.

"Hey, Bear. Same time next party?"

Marcus felt something in his chest shift—light and terrifying and exactly right. "Yeah," he said. "Count on it."

The cat watched him go, clearly unimpressed. But Marcus didn't care. For the first time all night, he didn't want to disappear.