Poolside Apocalypse

Maya stood at the edge of the **pool**, chlorine stinging her nose, clutching her solo cup like it was a lifeline. Jake's end-of-summer bash raged around her—screaming sophomores doing cannonballs, Spotify blasting something bass-heavy that vibrated through her chest.

She'd been crushing on Jake since AP Bio, when he'd let her copy his homework without asking questions. Now he was across the deck, arm around Taylor's shoulders, laughing at something Maya couldn't hear.

"Yo, Maya!" Jake called, spotting her. "You gonna stand there all night or actually get in?"

"Working up to it," she managed, which wasn't a total lie. Her bikini felt wrong—too much skin, not enough confidence.

The night took a turn when someone suggested zombie tag. Everyone started lumbering around, arms outstretched, groaning "braaaaaains" with varying commitment. Maya got tagged immediately by some freshman she didn't recognize, but instead of being dramatic about it, she just went with it—joined the horde, dragging her feet and moaning.

That's when it happened. She tripped over her own flip-flops and faceplanted into the snack table.

Papaya everywhere. The tropical fruit Jake's mom had cut up because she's "trying to be healthy" exploded across Maya's chest and shoulder. The whole deck went dead silent. Then laughter—not mean laughter, just the chaotic kind that happens when something's so ridiculous you can't help it.

Jake appeared through the crowd. "You good?"

"Papaya," Maya said, scraping fruit off her collarbone. "It's my new fragrance."

"Nice." His eyes crinkled. "You've also got spinach in your teeth."

"Are you kidding me right now."

"No, for real." He reached out, plucked a green leaf from her smile. "There. Better."

Someone shoved Maya's **hat**—her lucky thrift-store fedora she'd brought for later—onto Jake's head. He looked ridiculous, papaya-stained and wearing a fedora at a pool party.

"You know," Jake said, adjusting the hat, "you're actually kind of cool for not freaking out about all this."

Maya looked at him—really looked at him—and realized she didn't need to impress anyone who required performance to be impressed.

"Jump in with me?" she asked.

They hit the water together, screaming like absolute **zombie** maniacs, and for the first time all night, Maya wasn't worried about being cool. She was just being.