Riddle at Reynolds Pool Party

My hair looked like a wet poodle. Not the cute kind — the kind that's been through a washing machine set to "destroy." I'd spent two hours trying to perfect the messy-wave look Maya said was "in right now," but now, standing at the edge of Reynolds' pool party, I just looked like a mess.

"Yo, Caden!" Danny shouted from the pool, splashing water everywhere like an overexcited golden retriever. "Get in here! The water's actually sick!"

I hesitated, my palms sweating against my phone. Pool parties were basically social minefields wrapped in chlorine and cheap snacks. Remove your shirt = reveal your pasty torso. Don't remove it = look like that one weird kid who brings a book to everything. Lose-lose situation.

And then there was Jordan, floating on an inflatable flamingo like she owned everything, her dark curls somehow perfect despite the humidity. She caught my eye and waved. I awkwardly raised one hand back, definitely not smooth.

"What's up, nerd?"

I spun around. Kyle. The bull of sophomore year, currently shirtless and way too comfortable with his own testosterone. "Nice hair, by the way. Did a bird attack you this morning?"

His friends snorted. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Classic me.

"Leave him alone," Jordan said from behind me, sliding off her flamingo. Her voice was calm but sharp. "Also, that haircut cost more than your entire wardrobe, so."

Kyle blinked, actually surprised. "Whatever." He grabbed a pool noodle and swam away.

"Thanks," I mumbled, face burning.

"No problem." Jordan tilted her head. "You know, my aunt calls me Sphinx. Cause I'm always asking weird questions and never giving straight answers."

I laughed. "That's oddly specific."

"It's a whole thing." She stepped closer. "So here's my question: are you gonna stand there all day looking like you're calculating escape vectors, or are you gonna cannonball with me?"

"I don't really do—"

"Too late!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the edge. "THREE, TWO—"

We hit the water together, chlorine rushing up my nose, everything suddenly chaotic and perfect. When I surfaced, Jordan was laughing, her wet hair plastered to her face, and my own catastrophic waves were finally ruined beyond caring.

"See?" she said. "Not that deep."

My palms were still wet, but now it didn't matter. The riddle of the day, solved: sometimes you just have to jump in already.