The Dog Who Knew Better

The invitation sat on my desk like a death sentence. Pool party at Tyler's house. Saturday. Bring a swimsuit.

I hadn't been to a pool party since seventh grade, when I'd shown up in board shorts that hit me above the knee and spent three hours pretending to check my phone while everyone else played chicken fights. Now a junior in high school, I'd successfully avoided any event requiring me to be shirtless in public. My abs were more "abstract concept" than "physical reality."

"You're going, right?" Marcus asked at lunch. He'd been my best friend since we bonded over shared Pokémon cards in third grade. Now he was on varsity track and had developed those hollows under his cheekbones that made girls swoon. "Everyone's gonna be there."

"Can't," I said, shoving tater tots around my tray. "I'm watching Mrs. Henderson's dog."

Which was technically true. Mrs. Henderson had asked me to petsit Barnaby, her ancient golden retriever, for the weekend. But I could've easily found someone else. I just couldn't risk Tyler's pool.

But karma has a way of finding you. Saturday afternoon, Barnaby slipped out the back gate when I grabbed the mail. By the time I tracked him through three backyards, there he was—tail wagging like a metronome on steroids—standing at the edge of Tyler's above-ground pool.

Music thumped from waterproof speakers. Laughter rippled across the water. And there I was, standing in Mrs. Henderson's floral apron (don't ask), holding a leash, while a dozen of my classmates splashed in the distance.

"Barnaby!" I whisper-yelled. "We need to go, bro! We are NOT prepared for this!"

But Barnaby had other plans. He spotted Tyler's younger sister, Emma, sitting alone on a pool float reading a manga. He waded right into the shallow end, doggy-paddling over like it was completely normal to crash a pool party.

Emma looked up, surprised. Then she laughed—this genuine, unselfish sound that made something in my chest do that fluttery thing it does when I see a really good meme.

"Is that your dog?" she called out.

I considered running. I considered faking a sudden medical emergency. But Barnaby was already lifting his wet chin onto her float, looking at her with those soulful golden eyes.

"Technically he belongs to Mrs. Henderson," I called back. "I'm just the logistics coordinator."

"Well, logistics coordinator," Emma said, patting the empty space beside her float, "you might as well come in. The water's fine. And Barnaby seems to think you need to relax."

I looked at my phone. No texts from Marcus saying everyone was asking where I was. I looked at the pool, where Tyler was doing a cannonball competition with his lacrosse teammates. I looked at Emma, who was still waiting, still smiling.

I took off my shoes. I waded in. And somewhere between Barnaby shaking pool water all over my clothes and Emma explaining why manga was superior to American comics, I forgot to be scared.

Maybe the dog knew what he was doing after all. Some friends you choose. Some friends find you. And sometimes, you just have to jump in.