Pool Party Panic

The invitation had been sitting in my messages for three days. Jackson's annual summer pool party. The social event of the season. And I was definitely going. Probably. Maybe.

"You're overthinking again," my best friend Priya said, reading my mind over FaceTime. "Just wear the new swimsuit. You look fire in it."

Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one who'd been crushing on Jackson since seventh grade, back when he still had braces and played Pokémon Go during lunch.

The swimsuit in question featured a fox on the hip — sly, clever, everything I wasn't. But I'd bought it anyway, hoping some of that fox energy would transfer to me through osmosis.

Saturday arrived. I showed up fashionably late (by accident, I'd circled the block three times). Palm trees lined the driveway, their fronds swaying like they were laughing at my nervousness.

Inside, half our grade was already there. Music blasting. People swimming. Jackson emerged from the pool, water dripping from his hair, and my stomach did that thing where it forgot how to be an organ.

"Hey! You made it!" He waved me over. "Come swimming!"

I hesitated. The pool looked deep. Public. Very much not my bedroom floor where I'd been practicing cool entrances.

Then I saw Maya — Jackson's ex — standing by the snack table, looking gorgeous in a bikini that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She whispered something to her friends and they all giggled.

Suddenly the pool party energy shifted. Maya started walking toward me, her expression calculated, and I knew exactly what was happening. This was the part where she'd remind everyone of that embarrassing moment from sixth grade that I'd successfully repressed.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned and started running. Past the snack table. Past the speakers. Out the gate and down the street, clutching my towel like it was a lifeline.

"Hey! Wait up!"

I slowed down. Jackson was behind me, somehow already out of the pool and tracking me down. His bare feet slapped against the pavement.

"You good?" He caught up, breathless.

"Yeah, just... needed some air."

"Maya can be a lot, I know." He leaned against someone's mailbox. "She's been acting weird all summer."

I stared at him. Was this really happening?

"Anyway," he continued, "I was gonna say... I like your fox swimsuit. It's cute. You should actually come in the pool next time instead of fleeing the scene."

My face burned. He'd noticed. Before I could respond, his phone buzzed.

"Duty calls," he sighed, reading the text. "My mom needs me home early. Family stuff. But seriously, come back inside. The party's better when you're actually at it."

He started jogging back, then turned. "Oh, and you left your phone by the chips."

"Thanks!"

"No problem. Also..." He grinned. "You're not exactly built for running. Maybe stick to swimming next time."

He laughed as he took off, and I couldn't help smiling back. Maybe next time I'd actually get in the pool. Fox suit and all.