Pool Party Protocol

Jordan adjusted the bucket **hat** for the third time, pulling the brim low. It wasn't working. The confidence boost they'd hoped for? nonexistent. The backyard of Sarah's house was packed—people from school, people they'd never met, all shimmering with sunscreen and summer energy. Jordan felt like an intruder. A fraud.

"You good?" asked Marcus, sliding over with that effortless grin that made everything look easy. "You've been standing by the snack table for twenty minutes."

"Yeah," Jordan lied. "Just... strategizing."

"Strategizing what, exactly?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Your approach to the **spinach** dip?"

Jordan looked down at their paper plate. The dip sat there, green and accusing them of overthinking something as simple as eating.

"Ha ha."

"Just messing with you, bro." Marcus clapped their shoulder. "Go talk to people. You're literally **spy**-ing on everyone from the snack station."

The word hit harder than it should have. Jordan WAS spying. Sending real-time updates to Mateo, who couldn't make it: "Sarah and Travis are flirting AGAIN," "Marcus just attempted a cannonball and failed," "Chloe is wearing the same dress as last week's party." Intel gathering. Reconnaissance. Anything but participating.

The **pool** erupted in screams as someone got pushed in. Jordan watched the splash, the laughter, the way people seemed to know exactly where they belonged. Who they were supposed to be with.

What was Jordan's protocol here?

They wandered toward the back fence, where a small pond glowed with fairy lights. A single **goldfish** drifted near the surface, orange against the dark water, turning in slow circles.

"Thought you'd be over here," said a voice.

Jordan jumped. It was Kayla from chem class, leaning against the fence, scrolling through her phone with one hand and holding a Solo cup with the other.

"Oh. Hey." Jordan adjusted the hat again.

"Hiding out too?" Kayla didn't look up from her screen.

"I'm not hiding."

"Same." Kayla snorted. "We're just... tactically positioning ourselves. Strategically observing."

Jordan laughed. "Exactly."

"These parties are exhausting," Kayla said, finally pocketing her phone. "Like, why do we all agree to show up and pretend we're having the time of our lives?"

"Because that's what you're supposed to do?" Jordan offered.

"Yeah, but..." Kayla kicked at a pebble. "Sometimes I feel like I'm watching everything from behind glass. Like everyone else got the manual on how to teenager and I'm just winging it."

Jordan stared at her. That. Exactly that.

"I thought I was the only one," Jordan said quietly.

"No way." Kayla shook her head. "Look at them." She gestured toward the pool, where Travis was now dramatically reenacting something with an audience of five. "Everyone's performing. We're just the only ones admitting it."

The goldfish surfaced again, breaking the water with a tiny ripple.

"So what's your strategy?" Jordan asked.

"Same as yours." Kayla tilted her cup toward him. "Stay ten minutes longer than feels comfortable. Leave before it gets weird. Call it a win."

Jordan nodded. "Solid protocol."

They stood there in silence for a moment, watching the party swirl around them. Connected in their shared awkwardness.

"Hey," Kayla said. "You want to get out of here? There's a bodega down the street. We could get slushies."

Jordan smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

As they walked out, Jordan texted Mateo one last update: "Mission abort. Found a co-conspirator. Actual fun might be happening."

The hat stayed on, but Jordan didn't pull it down quite so low anymore.