Sweaty Palms Sunday

The invitation had been sitting in my inbox for three days. **Pool party at Jasmine's** — the words glowed with potential social suicide or, possibly, the moment I finally stopped being invisible.

I stood by the edge of Jasmine's inground pool, clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline. Around me, the popular kids splash-fought and laughed. Someone blasted Doja Cat from a waterproof speaker. **Swimming** in my cargo shorts and the rash guard I'd begged Mom to buy — because no way was I going shirtless — felt like showing up to a formal dinner in a clown costume.

"Yo, Marcus!" Tyler yelled, water dripping from his perfect hair. "Get in here, the water's straight fire!"

I froze. My **palm**s were sweating so bad the cup was slipping. This was it. The moment. Either I got in that pool or I remained That Kid Who Stands At Parties forever.

Then I saw it — a calico **cat** perched on the fence, watching everything with judgment in its yellow eyes. It looked as out of place as I felt.

"That your cat?" Someone behind me asked. I turned to see Maya — the Maya, who had drawings all over her Converse and always smelled like watercolor paint.

"Nah," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "Just looks like it's questioning everyone's life choices."

She laughed, and it was this real sound, not the performative giggle the popular girls did. "Bold of it to come to a party full of dogs."

"True." I grinned. "Hey, you gonna swim?"

"Eventually." She kicked off her sandals. "I'm waiting for the right song."

"What song?"

"You'll know it when you hear it."

The DJ put on this old-school throwback, and Maya's eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand. "This is it. Come on."

Before I could overthink it, we were both jumping in. The water hit me like reality crashing through anxiety. When I came up sputtering, Maya was already there, hair slicked back, grinning like she'd just discovered something cool.

"See?" she said. "Not so scary."

I looked back at the fence. The cat was gone.

"Yeah," I said, actually meaning it. "Not so scary."

Later, I'd realize this wasn't some movie moment where everything changed forever. But for that afternoon, I wasn't invisible. I was just Marcus, in the pool, **swimming** with Maya while the **cat** watched from somewhere beyond the fence, and my **palm**s finally stopped sweating long enough to high-five Tyler when he dunked Jason.

Some days, that's enough.