Poolside Protocol

The humidity in Maya's backyard hung thick enough to chew. I stood at the edge of her above-ground pool like a total idiot, clutching my towel like it was a life raft.

"Yo, Devon! You gonna vibe or what?" Tyler called from the water, splashing enough to soak my fresh Jordans. I'd spent forty-five minutes on my hair this morning—coils laid just right, edges crisp—and now I looked like a drowned rat before even touching the water.

Maya's cat, a fluffy orange menace named Cheeto, sat on the patio licking its paw like it owned everything. The cat had more confidence than I'd ever have.

"I'm good!" I yelled back. Too loud. Everyone glanced over. Great.

Nina shot me that look—the one that said *really?*—from her lounge chair under the palm tree. Her laugh carried over the music. She was wearing that bikini she'd bought last week, the one we'd spent hours debating online. She looked incredible. I looked like I was guarding the pool from invisible sharks.

The real problem wasn't the water. It was the shirt.

Under my tank top, my back looked like a bear had tried to hug me but got bored halfway through. Fresh scars, still pink, from surgery three months ago. I'd been bear-hugging my secret all school year—scoliosis, metal rods, the whole spine-straightening adventure. Nobody knew.

"Devon, come ON!" Tyler was doing that thing where he wouldn't shut up.

Nina slid off her chair and walked over. She'd been my crush since seventh grade, when she'd defended me from Jackson's immature jokes about my height. Now she stood close enough that I could smell her coconut sunscreen.

"You okay?" she asked, voice lowered so the others wouldn't hear.

I stared at the water rippling in the pool. At Cheeto abandoning his paw-cleaning mission to stalk a lizard. At Tyler doing a cannonball that sent a wave sloshing over the deck.

"My back," I said. "It's... messed up."

Nina nodded like I'd just said something normal. "My brother has rods too. From his snowboarding accident last year."

She pulled her hair over one shoulder, revealing a thin scar running down her spine. "We can be scar buddies."

Something loosened in my chest. I shucked my shirt and dove in.

The water hit me cool and perfect. Nina dove in after me, surfacing with a splash directly in my face.

"Took you long enough," she grinned, wiping water from her eyes. "You're not half bad at this existing thing."

"Not half bad?" I splashed back. "I'm killing it."

Cheeto hissed at a stray droplet and retreated to safety under the palm fronds. High school was ridiculous. But I figured I could handle it—scars, awkward moments, and all—as long as I had people who got it.

Even if I'd never live down the Jordans situation.