Poolside Recon

The chlorine stung my eyes, but I stayed underwater. This was my new thing—becoming a human submarine, invisible in the deep end of the Morrison's pool. Above me, through the rippling surface, I could see legs kicking, hear muffled laughter. Sometimes being sixteen felt exactly like this: holding your breath until your lungs burn, waiting for something to happen.

I surfaced, wiping water from my face. My iPhone sat on the pool deck like a nervous little brick, lighting up with notifications I pretended not to care about. Emma had posted three stories in the last hour. Each one felt like a tiny paper cut.

"You gonna spy on her all summer or actually swim?" Marcus called from the diving board. He was doing that thing where he bounced, testing gravity, preparing for something dramatic.

"Not spying," I said, which was a lie. "Reconnaissance."

Marcus laughed and executed a cannonball that sent a wave washing over my phone. I scrambled to save it, because the universe would actually end if my screen cracked before I could see what Emma was doing at Jake's party tonight.

Buster, the Morrison's ancient golden retriever, lumbered over and shook his wet fur directly onto my towel. This dog hated me. This was personal.

"Great, thanks, Buster."

The dog looked at me with those dopey eyes that definitely contained the wisdom of the universe—or at least knew that I was pathetic for checking my ex-best-friend's Instagram every seven minutes.

"You know," Marcus said, surfacing near the edge, "you're like a sphinx or something. All mysterious and brooding by the drain. But instead of riddles, you just have commitment issues."

"I don't have commitment issues," I protested. "I have standards."

"Your standard is literally 'must be Emma.'"

Buster chose that moment to steal my dive mask and trot away with it like a trophy. I scrambled out of the pool after him, dripping wet, feeling incredibly uncool.

Then my phone buzzed. Emma had posted another story—me and Marcus from last summer, mid-laugh, eating ice cream. The caption read: "found this. miss you stupid."

I stood there, dripping pool water, being slobbered on by a thieving dog, while Marcus smirked like he knew everything.

"Well?" he said. "You gonna text her, or just let the dog destroy your stuff?"

Buster dropped the mask at my feet.

"Both," I said, and picked up my phone.