Saltwater & Static

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating, gross and damp against the denim of her shorts. She gripped her phone tighter, watching the battery percentage dip below 5% and wishing she'd brought a charging cable like her mom had suggested. But no, she'd been too cool for that, too focused on picking the perfect outfit for Jordan's beach bonfire.

The bonfire crackled ahead, orange sparks drifting toward the **water** like fireflies with a death wish. People were already there—Jordan, definitely, probably looking effortlessly gorgeous in that way that made Maya simultaneously want to be her best friend and also maybe disappear into the sand. This was it. Junior year. The time when everyone was supposed to figure out who they were, while Maya was still mostly just... confused.

"Hey!"

Maya jumped, nearly dropping her phone. It was Alex from AP Bio, grinning with those perfect teeth that definitely required more than just good genetics. "You coming?"

"Yeah," she managed. "Just... admiring the view."

"The ocean or Jordan?" Alex raised an eyebrow, and Maya felt her face burn hotter than the bonfire.

"The ocean," she lied, but they both knew it was at least 40% Jordan-related.

They walked toward the group together, the sand cool between Maya's toes. She reached into her pocket and her fingers brushed against the emergency **vitamin** C gummies she'd brought—because nothing said "I have my life together" like being prepared for scurvy at a beach party. It was stupid, but it was her thing. Her mom was all about wellness culture, and somehow it had transferred to Maya like osmosis or something.

"Maya!" Jordan called out, waving. "Finally! We were about to send a search party."

The group shifted to make room, and Maya found herself sandwiched between Alex and someone she recognized from detention but didn't actually know. The conversation was about some drama she'd missed, something involving cheating and Instagram and screenshots. Maya nodded along like she understood, trying to look engaged instead of like she was mentally calculating how long until she could reasonably leave without looking lame.

Then Jordan was right there, handing her a drink. "You good? You look kinda intense."

Maya's phone chose that exact moment to die, black screen reflecting her startled expression. "Oh my god, I—"

"Classic," Alex said, but not mean. "Want to use my charger? I've got a cable in my bag."

For a second, Maya considered saying no. But then she thought about her sweaty **palm**s and how she'd been overthinking everything all night, and she just... didn't. "Actually, yeah. That would be amazing."

Alex fished out the charger and Maya plugged in her phone, watching the little lightning bolt appear like a promise. Around her, the conversation shifted to something else, and for the first time all night, Maya didn't feel like she was performing. She was just... there. With people. Being normal.

Maybe that was the whole point. Not having it figured out, but being okay with not having it figured out. The vitamin gummies could wait. So could the dead phone. Right now, the fire was warm, Jordan was smiling at her from across the circle, and Maya's palms were finally dry.