Pyramids in the Deep End

The summer before sophomore year, the pool became my entire world. Not because I loved swimming—I barely doggy-paddled—but because lifeguarding was the only job I could get without "real experience." Which is how I found myself staring at a **pyramid** of Red Solo cups that someone had constructed on the picnic table, perfectly balanced, three rows high, mocking my existence.

I traced the lifelines on my sweaty **palm** and tried to look authoritative. Kids screamed. Parents complained about the temperature. My brother had texted me five times about some **vitamin** supplement startup he'd discovered, convinced it was our ticket to early retirement. "It's not a pyramid scheme, Mia," he'd insisted, which obviously meant it was absolutely a pyramid scheme.

Then Jason showed up. Jason, whose mere presence made my brain malfunction like a corrupted file. He sauntered toward the **pool**, all confident smiles and effortless cool, while I immediately became the world's least convincing authority figure.

"Hey," he said, pulling up a chair beside my lifeguard stand. "Nice view from up there."

"Yeah," I managed, channeling absolute awkwardness. "I mostly just watch people almost drown and wonder why everyone's so bad at following simple rules."

Jason laughed. Actual laughter. Not pity laughter. My soul left my body.

We talked for two hours while I technically should have been scanning for drowning victims. We talked about his **bull** of a history teacher who gave essay tests on Fridays. We talked about how weird it was that our parents' generation couldn't figure out how to use emojis correctly. We talked about everything except the fact that I was developing what might possibly be actual feelings.

The sun set behind the **palm** trees, turning the pool water into liquid gold. Jason stood up.

"I'm having people over Friday," he said, almost casual. "You should come. Bring your brother—maybe he can explain this vitamin thing to my mom. She's into that stuff."

My heart performed actual gymnastics. "Yeah. I'll be there."

As he walked away, I caught sight of the Red Solo cup pyramid finally collapsing in the wind, cups scattering everywhere like my entire sense of composure. Some days, you're the lifeguard. Some days, you're the one drowning.

Friday couldn't come fast enough.