Screen Off, Dive In

The pool party at Tyler's house was supposed to be legendary. According to the group chat, everyone who was anyone would be there, arms already aching from holding their phones at the perfect angle for aesthetic shots.

I positioned myself by the deep end, iPhone gripped like a lifeline. The blue glow reflected in my dark shades as I scrolled through the livestream of my own party, watching people document themselves documenting themselves. Meta.

"You're missing it," someone said.

I looked up. Fox. That's what everyone called her—real name forgotten somewhere around seventh grade when she'd shown up to school with orange-streaked hair and a smirk that said she knew something we didn't. She was perched on the pool edge, denim cutoffs dark with water where she'd kicked her legs in.

"Missing what?" I asked, though my eyes darted back to my screen. Someone had already posted a boomerang of cannonballs. I needed to post mine first.

"Everything." Fox slipped into the water with impossible grace. "Put it down. The water's actually warm for once."

"Yeah, no. I need to—" My thumb hovered over Instagram.

"Need to what? Prove you were here?" She swam backward, eyes locked on mine. "Newsflash: living through a screen isn't actually living."

Ouch.

But something about the way she said it—no judgment, just truth—made my fingers loosen. Tyler announced pizza arrivals. The stampede began.

That's when I did it. I set my iPhone on a dry towel, facedown, and slipped into the pool. The water shocked my skin then turned perfect, like the world had been holding its breath and finally exhaled.

Fox was there, treading water near the filter. "Took you long enough."

"Shut up," I said, but I was smiling. Really smiling, not the practiced half-smile I used for selfies. We swam laps as the sun dipped, talking about nothing and everything. When it was dark, when most people had left or were inside watching TikToks on full blast, we swam to the bottom and sat there, weightless, while the pool lights rippled blue above us like underwater stars.

Later, I'd pick up my phone again. Later, I'd post the night's photos. But for now, for the first time in forever, I was exactly where I was—no filter needed.