Pool Party Survival Guide

The backyard shimmered with pool lights reflecting off the **water**, casting everything in this electric blue glow. Maya stood by the snack table, clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline, while someone's phone blasted a bass-heavy track that vibrated in her chest.

"Hey, **fox**."

The word landed next to her, sudden and warm. Maya turned to find Devon leaning against the sliding glass door, all crooked grin and varsity jacket even though it was literally eighty-five degrees. Her stomach did that annoying thing where it forgot how to be an organ.

"Did you just call me fox?" she managed, hoping she sounded more chill than she felt.

"Like, sneaky smart fox." He pushed off the doorframe. "You totally cheated at cornhole earlier. I saw you.

"She didn't even deny it. "Your throws were tragic. Someone had to win."

Devon laughed, and it was annoyingly genuine. "Fair. But speaking of winning, you coming to my **baseball** game tomorrow? Coach is finally letting me pitch."

The question hung there, heavy and expectant. Everyone knew Maya had quit the team last month after That Practice where she'd frozen during a drill and Coach Miller had asked if she was sure she belonged on the mound. She'd walked off the field and never looked back.

Before she could answer, a golden retriever came tearing through the crowd, dodging between teenagers with the precision of someone who'd done this before. It headed straight for the pool, paws skidding on wet concrete, and launched itself into a cannonball that sent **water** everywhere.

"CHOCOLATE!" someone screamed, and suddenly three different people were scrambling after the **dog**, who was living his best life paddling toward a cluster of floating glow sticks.

Maya turned to Devon, water droplets glistening on both their arms now, and the moment was just ruined enough that she could actually breathe.

"You know what?" she said. "I think I will."

"Yeah?" His smile did that thing where it reached his eyes.

"Yeah. But I'm bringing a sign that says ' Devon's pitches are tragic.'"

"Deal." He gestured toward the chocolate retriever saga unfolding by the pool stairs. "Wanna go rescue the dog before he eats all the glow sticks?"

"Obviously. Someone has to save you from yourself."