Riddles by the Pool Edge

The humidity hit Maya like a wall when she stepped through the sliding glass door. Carter's End-of-Summer Bash was already in full swing — Spotify playlist bumping, chlorine mixing with coconut sunscreen, the whole vibe giving major "this is what normal teenagers do" energy.

Maya's thumbs found her **iPhone**, muscle memory from approximately four thousand nights exactly like this one. Well, not exactly like this one. At those nonexistent parties, she wasn't constantly refreshing a group chat that had gone silent twenty minutes ago. The little bubbles stopped appearing right after she said she'd be running late.

"Yo, Maya!" Carter materialized, board shorts dripping, that effortless charisma that made everyone love him and Maya simultaneously want to be his best friend and also disappear into a hole. "You made it! Water's perfect."

The **pool** glittered like something from a movie poster, string lights reflecting off the surface. Bodies moved through the water, laughter rippling across the backyard. Maya stood at the edge, toes curled into the concrete, suddenly hyper-aware of her bathing suit choice and the fact that she'd never once been described as "effortless" anything.

Then she saw Javi sitting alone on the patio furniture, legs pulled up in what her yoga-obsessed mom called **sphinx** pose — forearms resting on knees, back straight, watching everything like he was studying for a test on Social Interaction.

Something clicked. That was her in three years if she didn't figure out how to people.

Maya made a split-second decision, possibly influenced by the spiked punch her sister warned her about or just straight-up panic. She jogged toward the deep end and just — launched.

**Running** full speed at pool edges wasn't smart. She knew this. Her brain had time to process approximately three regrettable choices before she hit the water.

Surface breaking, chlorine burning her nose, Maya heard genuine laughter — not at her, but with her. Javi had abandoned sphinx pose, standing at the edge, grinning.

"Finally," he said. "I was wondering who'd make the first ridiculous move. You looked like you were mentally calculating exit strategies." He extended a hand. "I'm Javi. Professional wall-observer, former social anxiety having-it-too. Want the socially acceptable tour?"

Maya's **iPhone** buzzed in her pocket — the group chat blowing up with "where r u" and "pool's lit" — but she left it there. Some riddles didn't need answers right away.