Poolside Protocol

The community pool shimmered like liquid diamond, but Maya felt like a zombie in her flip-flops. Her mother's wellness kick had her chowing down on vitamin gummies that stained her tongue orange, and her summer sociaI life was officially pathetic.

"You coming in?" Jake called from the deep end. He was doing that thing where he floated with his nose just above water, looking annoyingly effortless.

"Just tying my suit," Maya lied. Her bikini top was already double-knotted. What she was actually doing was calculating the exact trajectory to avoid the cable stretched across the pool deck — the one everyone said marked the boundary between cool kids and

okay-so-maybe-she'd-overthought-this.

"Earth to Mayaaa."

A cannonball splash soaked her towel.

"Rude!"

"Life's rude." Jake paddled over, dripping pool water everywhere. "Also, that vitamin tongue situation? Not a vibe."

Maya wiped her mouth frantically. Jake's favorite hoodie was already waterlogged from his earlier attempted dive. He looked like a golden retriever who'd discovered sprinklers.

"My mom thinks I'm deficient in, like, everything."

"We're all deficient in something." He floated onto his back. "Take it from someone who failed algebra twice."

Maya sat on the edge, feet dangling. The water was shockingly cold against her toes, electric in a way that made her breath catch.

"I thought you were tutoring?"

"Zombie mode, honestly." He splashed water at her. "Cable TV's been out since Tuesday. My brain is mush."

Maya laughed before she could stop herself.

"So..." Jake treaded water, suddenly interested in the cracks in the concrete. "Since we're both deficient and bored and stuff — you want to play categories?"

"Like, for real?"

"For real. Unless you're scared I'll crush you at breakfast cereals again."

Maya slid into the pool. The water wrapped around her, cool and terrifying and perfect.

"In your dreams, loser."