Signal Found

Marcus stood at the edge of the Jacksons' pool, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The water sparkled with that impossibly blue tint that only existed in rich people's backyards, and somewhere beyond the patio, the generic pop bass thumped like a heartbeat he couldn't quite sync with.

"You coming in or what?" Jordan called from the deep end. She was everything Marcus wasn't: confident, graceful, probably a mermaid in a past life.

"Yeah, just, uh." Marcus gestured vaguely at his pocket. "Waiting for a text."

Lame. So lame.

The real truth? He was guarding his backpack. Inside sat his Nintendo Switch and, more importantly, the HDMI cable he'd brought to hopefully play Smash Bros later. Because nothing said "cool teenager" like carrying around three feet of rubber-coated wire everywhere you went.

His phone buzzed. Mom. Chauncey was having separation anxiety again. Chauncey was his orange tabby, the kind of cat who acted more like a dog and had zero respect for personal boundaries. The cat had spent the entire morning head-butting Marcus's shins, probably sensing his anxiety about this party.

Marcus typed back a thumbs-up, feeling that specific teenage cringe of being fifteen and still worrying about your pet's emotional state.

"Bro, you good?" It was Tyler, Jordan's boyfriend, paddling over. "You've been standing there for like ten minutes."

Something in Marcus snapped. Maybe it was the humidity, maybe it was Tyler's concerned face, or maybe he was just tired of performing anxiety he didn't actually feel.

"Actually," Marcus said, pulling the HDMI cable from his pocket and holding it up like a flag of surrender. "I brought this because I heard you guys have a projector. And my cat's probably having a meltdown at home without me, so I'm kind of in a rush."

Silence. Then Jordan laughed.

"Dude. You have an orange cat?" She swam to the edge. "My orange cat is literally the weirdest creature on earth. His name is Cheeto and he attacks vacuum cleaners."

"Chauncey cries at closed doors," Marcus admitted. "And brings me his toys when I'm sad."

Tyler grinned. "We're definitely playing Smash Bros. But first—you're swimming. Fully clothed if I have to push you."

Marcus jumped. The water was perfect, and for the first time all summer, he wasn't overthinking every micro-expression, every casual word choice. Sometimes the signal found you when you stopped broadcasting so hard.