Poolside Signals

Marcus gripped the cheap plastic chair at the community pool like it was his lifeline. Summer before sophomore year and he still didn't know how to talk to people. Not normal people, anyway. The ones who floated through life like they were born knowing exactly which emojis to use.

"Cable's out again," his friend Javier said, dropping into the chair next to him.

Javier, who lived in a house with actual air conditioning and parents who didn't argue about money through paper-thin walls. "I'll have to catch the game at the pool," Marcus mumbled back, focusing intensely on his chipped toenail polish. His sister's bottle.

The swimming area was basically social warfare territory. The popular kids claimed the deep end like it was their sovereign nation. Marcus stayed shallow, literally and figuratively.

Then she walked in. Chloe, from his English class. The one who wrote essays about existential dread and still got A's. She wore a t-shirt over her swimsuit and looked as uncomfortable as Marcus felt.

She sat two chairs away, close enough that he could smell coconut sunscreen. Close enough that his heart did that stupid thing where it forgot how to heart.

"You here for the baseball thing too?" she asked him.

Marcus froze. He knew about the game — everyone did, the town's summer league championship was apparently the most important event in human history. But he didn't care. He never cared about sports.

"I mean," he said, his voice cracking spectacularly, "I guess? My brother's playing."

Bold-faced lie. He didn't have a brother.

"Cool," Chloe said. "I hate baseball."

Wait.

"It's just," she continued, "everyone pretends to care so much. Like, why do we all have to perform enthusiasm for four hours of guys standing around?"

Marcus laughed before he could stop himself. It came out weird and loud. Several popular kids looked over.

"My dad says cable TV ruined everything," Chloe added, "but honestly? At least with cable you could change the channel."

The game announcement came over the crackly pool speakers. Everyone moved toward the TV setup near the snack bar. Everyone except Marcus and Chloe.

"I never really learned," Marcus said, the words tumbling out before he could overthink them. "Proper swimming technique, I mean. I just kind of... don't drown."

Chloe grinned. It transformed her face.

"Me neither," she said. "Race you to the deep end?"

And that was it. Marcus stood up, leaving behind his safe spot near the wall, and followed her toward the water where the popular kids usually ruled.

They didn't race. They just floated there, two people who were terrible at swimming and worse at pretending, as the baseball game played on a screen nobody was watching.

For the first time all summer, Marcus didn't feel like he was waiting for something real to start.