Poolside Spy Games

My dad's bucket hat sat pulled low over my eyes, my personal shield against the blazing sun and, more importantly, against *Her*.

I was playing **spy**, basically. Not the cool James Bond kind. The awkward teenager hiding behind a strategically positioned magazine kind, stealing glances at Maya across the **water** of Carter's massive in-ground pool. She was perched on the edge, feet dangling in, laughing at something some guy said—probably something dumb, if I knew Carter's friends.

"You look like you're plotting world domination," my best friend Riley said, dropping onto the lounge chair next to me. "Or maybe just plotting how to talk to Maya without throwing up."

"I'm not gonna throw up," I lied. My **palm** was sweating against my phone case. "I'm just... observing. Gathering intel."

"You've been gathering intel since seventh grade, Zara. The intel says she's single and keeps looking over here when she thinks you won't notice."

I almost dropped my phone. "She's WHAT now?"

"I said what I said." Riley popped open a soda. "Also, you know this party is basically the school social **pyramid** in swimsuit form, right? You're literally sitting on the bottom tier."

"I'm comfortable here. The air is thinner. Less pressure." I adjusted my hat, pulling it even lower. "If I go over there, I'll say something weird. Like ask her what her favorite conspiracy theory is. Or accidentally quote Wikipedia."

"So, normal you stuff."

"Exactly."

And then—because the universe has terrible timing—Maya was walking over. **Water** dripping down her legs, swimsuit glittering in the sun, heading straight for me and my terrible hiding spot.

"Hey." She stood there, smiling like she didn't know she was at the top of the metaphorical pyramid. "Nice hat."

"Thanks." My voice squeaked. "It's for... sun protection. Very practical."

"Cool." She shifted, looking at my empty chair. "Mind if I...?"

"Please." I practically levitated.

We sat there for twenty minutes. We talked about her dog (a chaos gremlin named Pickles), my conspiracy theory phase (she thought it was cool, actually), and how much we both hated Carter's music playlist. When she grabbed my hand to show me a TikTok, my sweaty palm didn't matter anymore.

"Tomorrow," she said, standing up, "you're not wearing the hat, right? I wanna see your eyes."

I nodded, unable to form words.

"Good." She smiled. "Because I've been trying to catch your eye all summer, Zara."

I watched her walk away, Riley grinning like a maniac beside me.

"Spy game over," they said. "Mission accomplished."