Pool Party Protocol

The water in Maya's pool sparkled like someone had dumped actual glitter into it, which honestly wouldn't have surprised me. This was the kind of party where people didn't just show up—they curated their entrance like it was a red carpet event. Meanwhile, I was hiding behind a potted plant, calculating my survival odds.

"You look like you're about to throw up," said Jenna, sliding up beside me with a cat named Chairman Meow balanced on her shoulder like the world's chillest pirate. "Which, fair. The social hierarchy here is more complex than quantum physics."

"I'm not hiding," I lied, adjusting my swimsuit for the fiftieth time. "I'm strategically positioning myself."

"Uh-huh." Chairman Meow meowed in agreement, which felt unnecessarily judgmental coming from someone who regularly knocked glasses off tables for fun.

The real problem wasn't the pool or the people or even the fact that I'd accidentally worn the same bikini as Taylor, who had been side-eyeing me since she arrived. The problem was that my phone had died right before I could screenshot and post evidence that I was actually living a life. In 2024, if you didn't post it, were you even there? The answer was no. The answer was always no.

"Cable's out," Jenna announced, checking her phone. "Taylor's WiFi crashed and now half the party is losing their minds."

I watched Taylor and her friends huddled around a router like it was an alien artifact they needed to decipher. Suddenly, the ridiculous pressure to document everything evaporated. Without WiFi, the Instagram story threat level dropped to zero. Something inside me unclenched.

"Race you," I said, standing up and shaking off my social anxiety like it was pool water clinging to my skin.

"What?"

"To the deep end. Loser has to pet-sit Chairman Meow next weekend."

Jenna's eyes lit up. "You're on. But just so you know, he throws up when he's stressed."

I cannonballed into the water, surfacing to Jenna's splash right beside me, and for the first time all summer, I wasn't worried about how I looked or who was watching or what anyone would think. Chairman Meow watched from the edge of the pool, looking deeply unimpressed, and somewhere in the distance, people were actually talking to each other instead of their screens.

Sometimes the best things happen when everything else breaks.