The Hat, The Pool, The Everything

The pool glittered like a giant blue sapphire under the July sun, and I felt like I was about to throw up. Which, honestly, would've been an improvement over my current situation: standing at the edge of Jessica's annual summer bash, clutching my dad's old fishing hat like it was a flotation device.

"You good, Sam?" Marcus asked, appearing beside me with a red Solo cup. "You look like you've seen a zombie."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned. "I'm fine. Just. You know. Peopling."

Marcus, who'd been my best friend since sixth grade when we both got detention for rewiring the classroom's HDMI cable to play Minecraft, didn't push it. That's why he was Marcus.

The hat had started as a joke freshman year—I'd forgotten my sunscreen at band camp, and the fishing hat was all they had at the gas station. But somehow it became my thing. My armor. Take off the hat, and I was just Sam, the girl who overthought everything and said "literally" way too much. Put it on, and I was... well, still Sam, but with mysterious shadowy vibes.

My phone buzzed. MOM: Don't forget your vitamin D!! It was sitting on my nightstand at home, next to the seven other vitamins she'd decided I was deficient in after watching a documentary.

"Jessica's looking at you," Marcus said.

"She's looking at everyone. She's the host."

"She's looking at you like she wants you to take off that hat and get in the pool."

The pool. Where people were splashing and laughing and being normal teenagers. Where you had to be seen. Where you couldn't hide.

"I can't," I whispered. "What if—"

"What if you actually have fun?" Marcus grinned. "Crazy concept, I know."

Something in his tone made me pause. Marcus, who'd spent all of seventh grade being called Cable Guy after the incident, who'd shown up to homecoming wearing a fedora because he thought it looked cool. Marcus, who'd stopped caring what people thought sophomore year, and somehow that made everyone like him more.

The water looked inviting. The hat felt heavy.

"Fine," I said, pulling it off. "But if I socially embarrass myself, I'm blaming you."

"Deal," Marcus said, as we walked toward the pool together. "Also, you might want to fix your hair. The hat gave you some serious static."

I laughed. "Literally hate you."

"Literally love you too, Sam."

And for the first time all summer, the pool didn't look so scary anymore.