Screen Deep, Body Shallow

Maya's thumbs flew across her iPhone screen, double-tapping another perfect beach sunset while her actual toes dangled in lukewarm pool water. The neighborhood end-of-summer party raged around her—laughter, splashing, someone blasting Drake through a Bluetooth speaker that crackled on every bass drop.

"Earth to Maya?" Kelsey flopped onto the pool chair beside her, dripping chlorinated water onto Maya's favorite denim shorts. "You've been scrolling for twenty minutes. Jay's literally over there trying to catch your eye."

Maya locked her phone without looking up. Her stomach did that familiar fluttery thing—half excitement, half terror. Jay Fernandez, varsity track star, actually looking at *her*? The same Maya who'd spent three years building an Instagram aesthetic that screamed *I have my life together* while her real life felt like walking through pudding.

"I'm not ready," she muttered. "What if I say something stupid? What if he realizes I'm not—"

"Not what?" Kelsey raised an eyebrow. "Not the girl who curates the most aesthetic feed in tenth grade?"

Maya's phone buzzed. Another notification. Another like. Another tiny dopamine hit that felt increasingly hollow. She stared at the pool where people were *actually living*—messy, imperfect, unflattering angles and everything.

"You know what?" Maya stood up, heart pounding like she'd been sprinting. She grabbed her iPhone—then hesitated.

Running was easier. Literally. She'd been running from uncomfortable moments since middle school, building elaborate exits in her head, practicing smooth ways to disappear.

Tonight, she stayed.

Maya walked toward the pool's edge where Jay stood talking to some friends. Her hands shook. She didn't check her reflection in her phone camera first. Didn't compose a caption in her head. Just stood there, feeling ridiculously tall and awkward and alive.

"Hey Jay," she called out. Her voice cracked. Whatever. "Race you to the other side."

He blinked, then grinned. "You're on."

When Maya dove into the pool, iPhone left safely on dry land, something shifted. The water rushed into her ears, muffcing everything except the sound of her own heartbeat—fast, real, and absolutely unfiltered. For the first time all summer, she wasn't performing. She was just... swimming.

Later, dripping and shivering, Maya grabbed her phone from the chair. Thirteen notifications.

She turned it off.

"Maya!" Kelsey called from the deep end. "Marco!"

"Polo!" Maya yelled back, and actually meant it.