The Dead Pool Party

Maya's hair was supposed to be perfect. She'd spent forty-five minutes with the curling iron, creating cascading waves that said "effortless cool" — which was hilarious, because the effort had been anything but effortless.

"You good?" Jaz asked, leaning against Maya's bedroom doorframe. Maya's best friend looked ready for the party of the year: crop top, high-waisted shorts, that effortless confidence Maya had been trying to fake since seventh grade.

"Just... running through my mental checklist," Maya said, though her actual checklist had been running through her head for three days straight. Her iphone had buzzed twenty times since lunch with party updates from the group chat — who was bringing what, who was hooking up with who, the crucial social calculus that determined whether tonight would be amazing or a total disaster.

The zombie thing had started as a joke. Someone had said the seniors looked like the walking dead after finals week, and now everyone was going as zombies to Tyler's pool party. Maya had thrown together a costume: fake blood, torn clothes, the basic ensemble. But standing in front of her mirror, she felt more like a zombie than she wanted to admit. Exhausted from finals. Drained from the constant performance of being someone she wasn't.

"You look amazing," Jaz said softly. "And we're gonna have fun. Even if we just sit by the pool and make fun of everyone's terrible zombie impressions."

The party was exactly what Maya expected: too loud, too many people, too much everything. Tyler's backyard was packed, the pool glowing with underwater lights that turned everything blue and strange. Someone had brought speakers, and the bass thumped in Maya's chest like a second heartbeat.

She spent twenty minutes glued to her phone, refreshing instagram, checking how many likes her zombie selfie had gotten (seventeen — pathetic, honestly), when she heard it.

"Maya, are you gonna come in or what?"

It was Lucas, the quiet guy from her English class. He was already in the pool, wet hair plastered to his forehead, grinning like he didn't care about being uncool.

"I didn't bring a suit," she said. She hadn't wanted to swim. She'd wanted to exist on the edges, observe, survive.

"So jump in your clothes," he said. "Everyone looks like a zombie anyway. What's one more soaking wet, fully-clothed weirdo?"

Something in his voice — the complete lack of irony, the genuine invitation — made her set down her phone. Made her step closer to the pool's edge.

She jumped.

The water was cold and shocking and perfect. Her perfect hair was ruined. her zombie makeup was definitely running. Everyone was watching. But Lucas was laughing, and Jaz was cheering from the patio, and for the first time all night, Maya wasn't performing. She was just... there.

"See?" Lucas said, splashing water at her. "Better than refreshing instagram every three seconds."

Maya wiped water from her eyes. Her hair was a disaster. Her phone was safe on dry land, probably buzzing with notifications she didn't care about anymore.

"Yeah," she said, smiling so hard her face hurt. "Way better."