Poolside Secrets

The party was already popping when Jaz arrived at Chen's **pool**, fashionably late in her opinion (though probably just awkwardly on time). The inflatable **pyramid** of colorful pool floats bobbed in the water like some tiered cake of teenage social hierarchy — bottom tier: the try-hards, middle tier: the cool-but-not-THAT-cool, top tier: Chen and her inner circle presiding over their chlorine kingdom.

Jaz squeezed her lime wedge into her **papaya** mango punch (Chen's mom was being "so aesthetic" with the exotic fruit bar) and wished she could glitch out of existence. She'd been two minutes at this party and already overthought her outfit, her hair, her entire vibe.

Then she saw it — or rather, him. Marcus, from pre-calc, crouched behind the pool house, phone raised like he was documenting something. Jaz had been lowkey obsessed with him since he'd roasted Mr. Harrison's unfair pop quiz back in September.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Jaz found herself channeling her inner **spy**, creeping behind the rosebushes like she was in some undercover mission. It was giving main character energy, or maybe just main embarrassment.

Marcus lowered his phone, looking sus as hell. Jaz's heart did cartwheels. Was he plotting something? Was he secretly recording people for his TikTok?

"What are you doing?" she whisper-yelled.

Marcus jumped like she'd electric-slap surprised him.

"Yo! You almost made me drop—"

He turned, and Jaz saw what he was really filming. Not the party. The pyramid of cans and bottles accumulating behind the pool house. Chen's older sister was wasted, stacking empties with intoxicated precision.

"My mom's a counselor," Marcus whispered, eyes full of something Jaz hadn't expected — not judgment, but responsibility. "Chen's aunt asked me to get proof. For the intervention."

The pyramid of evidence. The papaya punch masking the taste of coconut rum (which Jaz suddenly realized with dawning horror probably wasn't JUST coconut). The spy mission that was actually a rescue operation.

Jaz looked at Marcus — really looked at him — and felt her crush solidify into something realer.

"So," she whispered back. "You need a partner in crime?"

Marcus grinned, and it was genuinely everything. "I thought you'd never ask."

Together, they documented the evidence, co-conspirators in the warm July night, while inside, the party raged on, completely oblivious to the spies in their midst and the quiet heroism happening poolside.