Sweaty Palms & Orange Streaks

Maya's palms were literally sweating. Like, actually dripping. She gripped the red Solo cup harder, her knuckles turning the color of the cheap punch inside.

"You coming in or what?" Jenna called from the pool, her new orange-streaked hair glowing neon under the string lights. "Water's actually not gross for once."

Pool parties. The ultimate social minefield. Do you swim? Do you sit on the edge looking chill? Do you pretend you're just there for the snacks? Maya had been hovering in the transition zone for twenty minutes—casual leaning against the patio furniture, strategic bathroom breaks, the works.

Behind her, the massive palm tree cast these dramatic shadows across the deck. She'd spent half the summer reading in its shade, hidden from the world while everyone else was at the beach or doing literally anything cool.

"I'm good," Maya said, but her voice came out weird. Squeaky. Perfect.

Jenna pulled herself out of the pool, water streaming down her arms, droplets catching the light like tiny stars. She'd been Maya's best friend since second grade, but sometimes it felt like Jenna had received some secret manual for high school that Maya had definitely missed.

"You're overthinking again," Jenna said, tossing an orange cushion at her. "I can literally see your brain doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you convince yourself everyone's watching when literally no one cares." Jenna flopped onto the chair next to her. "Bro, half these people are on their phones. The other half are arguing about Spotify playlists. You could strip down to a dinosaur costume and they wouldn't notice."

Maya snorted, then quickly covered her mouth. Jenna raised an eyebrow. "Was that... was that a laugh? In this economy?"

"Shut up."

"See? You're already more fun than you were five minutes ago." Jenna stood up and held out her hand—her actual palm, open and waiting. "Get in. The water's actually perfect and I promise nobody's looking at your thighs."

Maya stared at her hand. The night air was thick with chlorine smell and distant bass from someone's Bluetooth speaker. Somewhere in the distance, the palm fronds rustled like they were laughing at her.

She took Jenna's hand.

"Fine. But if anyone makes fun of my splash—"

"They won't," Jenna said, pulling her up. "Now let's go before the DJ plays another Cardi B song and I lose my mind."

Maya's toes touched the water. Cool, shocking, alive. She took a breath and let go.