Poolside Protocol

The invitation said "pool party," but Maya's brain heard "social suicide." Standing at the edge of Jessica's sparkling blue pool, she felt like she'd forgotten how to be a normal human being. Everyone else was already swimming, laughing, splashing like they'd been born in chlorine-scented water.

Maya tugged at her towel, suddenly hyper-aware of her one-piece against everyone's trendy bikinis. This is fine, she told herself. You don't have to get in. You can just... exist awkwardly on the periphery for three hours.

Then she saw it—a golden retriever puppy bounding through the back gate, followed by a frantic Jessica. "Buster! Not again!"

The dog, clearly unbothered by human social protocols, made a beeline for the pool and launched himself into a perfect cannonball. So much for being cool.

Maya found herself knee-deep in the water, helping Jessica corral the very wet, very happy dog. "Sorry," Jessica said, grinning as she toweled off Buster. "He's basically a furry terrorist."

"He's awesome," Maya heard herself say. And suddenly she was swimming—actually swimming—doing laps with half the party while Buster did enthusiastic circles around them.

Later, dry and wrapped in her towel, Maya overheard Tyler from chem class talking to his friends. "That new girl's pretty chill," he said. "Not trying to be some fox like everyone else here. Just real."

Maya smiled into her cup of fruit punch. Maybe high school wasn't so different from swimming—sometimes you just had to jump in, even when you had no idea what you were doing. And sometimes, you needed a very wet dog to show you how.