Poolside Riddles

The summer before freshman year, I discovered that swallowing a gummy vitamin with water while staring at my reflection in the mirror counted as practicing confidence. My mom said the B-complex would help with stress, but honestly, the only thing stressing me out was whether Maya—from my biology class—would notice I existed at Jared's pool party.

The pool itself was basically a social battlefield. Jared's older brother, Tyler, had designated himself the supreme ruler of the deep end, while freshman desperate for social currency clustered around the shallow end like confused ducklings. I'd been hovering near the snack table for twenty minutes, pretending to deeply consider a bag of stale Doritos.

"You look like you're spying on someone," said a voice behind me.

I jumped. It was Sasha, the girl who wore a black bikini and sat in the corner reading philosophy books like some kind of enigmatic sphinx. Nobody knew what her deal was, which made her fascinating.

"I'm not—I was just—" I stammered.

She grinned. "Relax. I'm kidding. You're just obviously in your head about something."

How did she know that? It was like she could read the awkward radiating off me in waves.

"So," Sasha said, sliding onto the lounge chair next to mine, "what's the deal with you and Maya? I saw you looking at her like three times."

I felt my face burn. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who knows what to look for." She flipped a page in her book. "So here's the thing—Maya's been through a lot this year. Her dad got sick, and she's basically been the parent to her little sister since January. She doesn't have space for someone who's going to make everything about her."

I stared at her. "How do you know all that?"

"Because I pay attention," she said. "Also, her Instagram is pretty much an open book if you actually look at the captions instead of just double-tapping the selfies."

I felt like such an idiot. I'd been so caught up in my own nervousness that I hadn't even thought about what Maya might be going through.

"Thanks," I said finally. "For, you know, telling me."

"No problem." Sasha closed her book. "You seem decent. Just—maybe try being her friend first? The rest sorts itself out."

Maya walked over then, holding two sodas. She offered one to me. "Hey. You want to get out of here? This party's kind of bear-ish, if you know what I mean."

I looked at Sasha, who raised an eyebrow like she knew exactly what was about to happen. And then I looked at Maya, who was smiling like maybe she'd been hoping I'd say yes.

"Yeah," I said, taking the soda. "I'd love that."

Later, walking with Maya toward her house, I realized that confidence wasn't something you could swallow with a vitamin or practice in a mirror. It was just showing up, paying attention, and being brave enough to say yes when life offered you something real.