Poolside Protocol

The humidity hung heavy like a secret no one wanted to keep. I stood at the edge of the **pool**, chlorine stinging my nose, watching Tyler make his way through the crowd like he owned everything. Including, unfortunately, my confidence.

"You gonna **swim** or just stand there looking like you're calculating the water's pH level?" Maya nudged me, grinning. She knew exactly why I was frozen. Tyler. The same Tyler who'd called me 'calculator girl' since seventh grade. The same Tyler who was now three feet away, shirtless, laughing with his friends.

The thing about navigating teenage social dynamics is that sometimes you feel like you're constantly underwater, holding your breath, waiting for permission to surface. I'd spent all summer transforming myself – new clothes, new hair, new practiced indifference – but somehow Tyler still made me feel like that middle schooler hiding behind her textbook.

Then I saw it. Tyler's phone, unattended on a lawn chair while he cannonballed into the deep end. The perfect opportunity. I'd been **spy**ing on his social media for months anyway – why not see what he actually posted when no one was watching?

"Don't do it," Maya warned, but I was already sliding toward the chair, heart hammering like I'd just finished a lap race.

What I found wasn't what I expected. No embarrassing posts. No mean jokes about me. Instead, his notes app was open: 'Ask Maya's friend about the calculus homework. She's actually smart. Why am I such a **bull** in front of her?'

My stomach did this complicated flip. All summer I'd thought he was making fun of me, but apparently I was the one he couldn't talk to. The fear went both ways.

I locked his phone and slid it back exactly where I'd found it. When Tyler surfaced, dripping wet and grinning, I didn't run away. I didn't overthink it.

"Calculus tutoring," I said, casual as I could fake it. "Ten dollars an hour."

He stared at me, water dripping from his hair. "Seriously?"

"Unless you'd rather fail." I shrugged, walking toward the diving board like I hadn't just been holding my breath all summer.

"I'm in," he called after me.

Some things you learn by swimming. Some things you learn by spying. And some things you only learn when you stop holding your breath and just dive in anyway.