Orange Stains and Other Disasters

I was already regretting everything before I even got to the pool party. Mom had insisted I wear this bright orange swim trunks situation that she swore was "totally in this summer." Yeah, if this summer was 2004 and I was going to a rave.

"You look fine!" she'd called as I headed out. Fine. The universal mom translation for you look like a traffic cone but I'm too tired to argue.

Jordan's house was already bumping when I arrived. The backyard looked like something out of a teen movie – twinkling lights, actual decent snacks, and Jordan's golden retriever, Buster, doing laps around the pool like he was the one hosting. Everyone was already in, laughing and splashing, while I stood there in my orange nightmare, suddenly hyper-aware that I hadn't gone swimming since basically forever and my doggy-paddle was legendary for all the wrong reasons.

"Marcus!" Jordan waved me over, looking annoyingly put-together. "Finally! Get in here!"

I grabbed a spinach artichake dip from the snack table, anything to delay the inevitable. My hands were literally shaking. This was it – moment of truth. Either I'd drown or I'd humiliate myself. Possibly both.

Buster chose that exact moment to lose his mind. He came barreling toward me, full-speed, and I may have panicked. The dip went everywhere. Spinach dip all down the front of my orange trunks. Green on orange. A color combination that should be illegal.

"Buster! NO!" Jordan came running over, but the damage was done. I looked like I'd been attacked by a particularly aggressive salad.

And then – the worst part – Maya, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since seventh grade, walked over. She was wearing this navy one-piece and somehow looked effortless, while I looked like I'd lost a fight with a vegetable garden.

"Uh," I said intelligently. "There's dip. On me."

She stared at me for what felt like seven years, and then she started laughing. Not mean laughing – like, actual cracking up. "Okay, that's honestly kind of impressive. I didn't think anyone could make that dip look like war paint."

I cracked a smile despite myself. "It's a look, right?"

"It's definitely a look." She gestured toward the pool. "You coming in or what? Because I'm not getting in alone, and Jordan's already doing that thing where he tries to drown people 'as a joke.'"

So I jumped in. Still covered in dip. Still wearing the orange trunks from hell. And yeah, I doggy-paddled like my life depended on it, and yeah, Maya laughed at me, but she also stayed in the shallow end with me while I got comfortable. We spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing, while her brother's dog kept trying to steal people's towels and Jordan kept attempting (and failing) to do a flip off the diving board.

Later, when I got home and Mom asked how it went, I just said: "Actually? It was pretty good." Some days are disasters, and some days disasters are just beginnings in disguise.