Poolside Hierarchies

The chlorine hits me before I even see the blue rectangle stretching out behind the chain-link fence. Another summer, another shift at the pool where I basically exist as a zombie in a red one-piece, blowing my whistle at kids who treat the deep end like their personal toilet bowl.

"You look dead," says Maya, dropping her bag on the lifeguard chair next to mine. She's my friend, or we were, until she started sitting at the pyramid of popular tables in the cafeteria last semester. Now she only talks to me when we're stuck working together.

"Ten hours of staring at water will do that to a person."

The pool fills up fast. The cool kids take over the shallow end, forming their social pyramid with Jake at the apex—golden boy, varsity lacrosse, absolutely insufferable. I watch them from my elevated throne, feeling like I'm observing a completely different species.

Something shifts in the water. A ripple that doesn't match the splashing. I squint through my zombie fog and see it—a little kid struggling in the deep end, caught in the invisible current that always forms near the filtration system.

I blow the whistle and dive in. The water swallows me cool and silent, and for a second, everything is peaceful. Then I'm grabbing the kid, kicking toward the surface, breaking through with both of us gasping.

The pool goes quiet. Even the pyramid hierarchy freezes. Jake actually stands up.

Maya meets me at the edge as I hand the kid to his grateful mom. "That was actually kind of badass," she says, and for the first time in months, she doesn't look like she's wondering why she's talking to me.

"Just doing my job."

"No seriously." She bumps my shoulder with hers. "Remember when we were twelve and you saved me from drowning at my aunt's pool party? You're always doing this. Being the hero while I'm over here worrying about which table to sit at."

The water drips from my hair, forming a puddle on the concrete. I look at Maya—really look at her—and notice the dark circles under her makeup, the way she's not actually sitting with anyone at the pyramid today.

"You okay?"

She shrugs. "Being popular is exhausting. I think I'd rather be a zombie lifeguard with you."

The whistle feels lighter around my neck. The sun breaks through the clouds, turning the pool surface into something shimmering and new. Maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.