Poolside Recon Mission

The party at Tyler's house was supposed to be low-key, but you know how that goes. By the time I rolled up—fashionably fifteen minutes late, because I'm not desperate—his backyard had transformed into full-on Summer Instagram fodder territory.

I spent the first twenty minutes playing my favorite game: spy. Not the cool James Bond kind. The pathetic kind where you lurk by the snack table watching Jordan laugh at Kyle's terrible jokes, pretending to check your phone while actually refreshing their story for the third time. Mental note: stop being a creeper, Maya.

"You look like you're plotting murder," said Chloe, dropping onto the lounge chair beside me. Chloe, who had somehow become my best friend since seventh grade, even though she's basically a golden retriever in human form—relentlessly cheerful, loyal to a fault, and incapable of reading a room.

"Just thinking about how Jordan's cat hates me," I lied, because the truth (that I was obsessively monitoring a crush's social interactions) was too embarrassing to say out loud.

"Mr. Whiskers doesn't hate you. He's just... particular." Chloe cracked open a soda. "Unlike that dog Tyler's family got. That thing would cuddle with a burglar."

We watched as Kyle, completely oblivious to Jordan's barely-concealed boredom, attempted to execute a cannonball off the diving board. The splash sent a wave of pool water toward our chairs.

"Smooth," I said.

"Tragically smooth." Chloe nudged me. "You know what you need?"

"To transfer schools?"

"To get in the pool. You've been hiding over here all night. It's weird."

She wasn't wrong. I'd spent months watching from the edges—of conversations, of friend groups, of Jordan's life—and the worst part was that I'd convinced myself it was safer that way. But safety is just fear with better marketing.

"Fine." I stood up, stripping off my cover-up. "But if Kyle tries to talk to me, I'm leaving."

"Deal." Chloe grinned, grabbing my arm. "Race you in?"

The water was exactly the right temperature—cool enough to be refreshing, warm enough that you didn't gasp. I came up sputtering, pushing hair out of my face, and there was Jordan, swimming over with that perfect smile that made my stomach do gymnastics.

"Finally decided to join us?" Jordan asked. "I was beginning to think you were allergic to fun."

"Allergic to Kyle's cannonballs, maybe," I shot back, and then we were both laughing, and for the first time all night I wasn't spying on anything. I was just here.

Chloe shot me a thumbs-up from across the pool. Some golden retriever energy, I thought, grinning. Sometimes you need the loyal friends, the chaotic energy, and the terrifying possibility of actually being seen.

Maybe next time I wouldn't wait by the snack table. Maybe.