Splash Point

Maya's iPhone buzzed in her sweaty palm, screen cracked but still glowing with that notification she'd been waiting for all summer. Pool party at the Chen's. You coming?

She stood at the edge of the concrete, toes curled at the precipice. The pool shimmered like liquid sapphire, kids her age bobbing in the blue, laughing like they didn't have a care in the world. Meanwhile Maya was fully clothed, heart doing gymnastics at the thought of actually stepping into the social deep end.

"You gonna stand there all day or what?"

She jumped. It was Leo, dripping wet, hair plastered to his forehead in a way that should've looked ridiculous but somehow didn't. He held out an orange slice—actual fruit, at a pool party, like some kind of health-conscious alien.

"Thought you might need this," he grinned. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Maya took it, fingers brushing his. Her face burned hotter than the July sun. "I'm good. Just. Thinking."

"About jumping in?"

"About how I can't just jump in." She gestured at herself—fully dressed, phone clutched like a lifeline. "I didn't bring a suit. I didn't think I'd actually. You know. Be invited."

Leo's expression softened. "Dude, nobody actually plans these things. Last week we ended up having a banana split eating contest in the driveway. It's not that deep."

She bit into the orange, tart juice flooding her mouth. "That's easy for you to say. You're like. You. You just exist and people like you."

Leo laughed, actually laughed. "Maya, last month I accidentally called my teacher 'mom' three times in one week. I'm just loud about being weird. You're quiet about it. Both ways work."

She almost smiled. Almost.

"So." He stepped closer, dripping on her sandals. "You gonna keep holding that phone like it's your only friend, or you gonna come in? The water's actually not terrible. And if it sucks, I'll give you the other half of this orange."

Maya looked at her iPhone, then at the pool, then at Leo waiting like her answer actually mattered. She set the phone on a dry chair—cracked screen and all—and took a deep breath.

"Fine," she said. "But if I drown, I'm haunting your weird orange-eating self forever."

"Deal."

She jumped. The water was cold and shocking and absolutely perfect.