Poolside Surveillance

Maya positioned herself behind the potted palm, stealth mode activated. Not that anyone noticed—everyone was too busy being effortlessly cool at Jasmine's pool party. Maya was there on a reconnaissance mission, aka spying on Caleb from the nutrition club.

Her phone buzzed. Mom, checking in. "Did you drink your spinach smoothie?" Ugh. Maya had chugged the gross green sludge before leaving because her mom was on a "fuel your body" kick. Now Maya felt like a walking salad.

Caleb emerged from the pool house, towel-drying his hair. Maya's stomach did that weird flip thing. He headed toward the padel courts, grabbing a racquet from the rack. Right. Padel. The sport everyone at Westbridge played except her.

"Maya!" Jasmine called from her inflatable flamingo. "Get in here!"

Social pressure mounting. Maya stepped toward the pool, then froze. Her bikini top felt too small, her thighs too real. This was why she'd been avoiding pool parties since seventh grade.

Caleb looked over. Their eyes met.

Maya bolted. Just started running toward the exit gate, humiliation burning her cheeks. Smooth. Real smooth.

"Hey!" footsteps behind her. "Maya, wait up!"

She slowed. Caleb stood there, dripping wet, holding an extra racquet.

"You play?" he asked.

"Padel? No. I—" She gestured vaguely. "I don't belong here."

Caleb laughed. "Jasmine's parties are literally the most awkward thing ever. I only come for the free food." He looked at her seriously. "Wanna learn? It's basically tennis but easier."

Maya looked at the padel court, then back at the pool where everyone was pretending to have the time of their lives.

"Yeah," she said, and something in her chest unlocked. "Yeah, I do."

Her mom would be proud. All that spinach fuel was finally coming in handy.