Riddle at the Deep End

I wasn't supposed to be at the community pool. Not after the Incident last summer when I'd accidentally knocked over the snack stand while trying to impress Sarah Martinez with my baseball skills. But here I was, lifeguard duty, because apparently the universe has a sense of humor.

The pool was empty except for her—the Sphinx of the Deep End. She'd been there every day that week, perched on the edge in a wet swimsuit, staring at the water like it held the meaning of life. Or like she'd forgotten something important in the deep end. Possibly both.

"You're going to burn," I said, approaching with the sunscreen bottle like it was a peace offering. Occupational hazard, plus she looked like she'd been marinating in UV rays for three hours.

She didn't look up. "The cable guy's supposed to be here at three."

"It's a pool, not Spectrum."

She finally glanced at me, and yeah, okay, I understood why everyone called her the Sphinx. Her expression was completely unreadable, like she knew something I didn't and found it mildly amusing. "My dad's the cable guy," she said. "He's fixing the pool filter. There's a cable loose somewhere in the system."

Oh.

"I'm Leo," I offered.

"Maya."

We sat there for twenty minutes while her dad worked on something behind the pump equipment. Maya told me about how she'd moved here three months ago and how she'd accidentally joined the swim team because she didn't know how to say no to the coach. I told her about the baseball Incident and how I was pretty much banned from anything involving balls and proximity to other people.

"That's not even the worst thing I've heard," Maya said, which honestly? Felt like a win.

Her dad emerged from the pump room eventually. "Fixed. You kids can swim if you want."

Maya stood up and stretched. "Want to see if there are really cables loose in the deep end?" She asked it like a challenge.

"I'm the lifeguard. I'm supposed to prevent drowning, not investigate it."

"Live a little, Baseball Disaster."

So we jumped in. The water was freezing and perfect and she was right—there was a cable snaking along the bottom of the deep end, loose and swaying in the current like something from another world. We swam down to touch it, surfacing gasping and laughing, and okay, maybe I didn't exactly mind lifeguard duty after all.

"Same time tomorrow?" Maya asked, dripping wet at the edge of the pool.

"I'll bring extra sunscreen," I said.

The universe definitely has a sense of humor. But sometimes, apparently, it works in your favor.