Poolside Prophecy

My phone buzzed for the third time in five minutes. The cracked screen lit up with another 'where r u???' text from Marcus. I groaned and shoved the iphone deeper into my beach towel pile like it was contraband.

Pool parties at Jessica's house were basically social warfare, and I was severely outgunned. The water sparkled with that inviting blue glow that made swimming seem like the best idea ever, until I remembered I'd have to actually take my shirt off. In front of people. People like Chase, who was currently cannonballing off the diving board with zero shame while a golden retriever puppy barked hysterically at the splashes.

That dog—Barnaby—was having the time of his life living his best chaotic existence. Why couldn't that be me?

"Hey, you gonna stay human-shaped or actually get in?"

I jumped. Maya stood there, dripping wet, sunglasses pushed up on her head like a crown. We'd had that weird almost-thing at the start of sophomore year before I chickened out. Now she had this whole sphinx vibe going on—mysterious, half-smiling, like she knew something I didn't.

"I'm thinking about it," I lied. "Philosophically."

She laughed. "You've been 'thinking about it' for forty minutes, Sam. Your phone's basically overheating in that towel." She plopped down next to me, close enough that our arms almost touched. "What's actually up?"

The dog chose that moment to shake himself off directly next to us. We both got sprayed. Maya shrieked, I yelped, and suddenly the whole social hierarchy thing seemed stupid. We were just two wet teenagers laughing while a very proud dog stood there like yeah, I did that.

"Okay, fine," I said, wiping water from my face. "I overthink everything. You noticed. Congratulations."

"Everyone notices, genius." She stood up and held out her hand. "C'mon. I'll jump with you. We'll look ridiculous together. It'll be iconic."

Her hand was warm and slightly pruney from the water. I took it.

"Together?"

"Together."

We ran toward the pool, Barnaby barking at our heels like he was part of the mission. For three seconds of mid-air suspension, none of the other stuff mattered. Not the phone still buzzing with unread texts, not the social dynamics, not the overthinking.

Just us, hitting the water in a splash that Chase would definitely approve of.

Sometimes you have to jump to figure out you can swim.