The Last Pool Night

The neighborhood pool gate screeched when Marcus kicked it open. He didn't care. It was 2 AM, humid as hell, and we'd just graduated middle school yesterday — practically grown, even if my mom still made me clean my room.

"You sure about this?" I whispered, because if Coach Miller heard us, we were dead. He lived two houses down and had ears like a damn bat.

Marcus just grinned, that crooked smile that got him out of detention three times last month. "Live a little, Noah. We're zombies anyway after finals."

Couldn't argue there. We'd spent June cramming, then June crying over grades, then June pretending we weren't terrified about high school. Three months feeling like the walking dead.

The pool stretched out black and perfect, streetlights catching ripples that looked like liquid silver. Marcus stripped to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile beside the chipped lounge chairs where someone had carved D + J forever, which was honestly tragic.

Behind the pool fence, the baseball field loomed. I'd spent every spring there since fifth grade, Marcus at shortstop, me in right field, both of us terrible but convinced we'd go pro. That dream died somewhere between algebra and puberty.

"Race you," Marcus said, and cannonballed.

I jumped after him, water shocking me awake like nothing had in months. We surfaced laughing, splashing each other like we were ten again, before the world got complicated and he started hanging with the popular kids and I got weird about it.

Treading water, I asked the thing I'd been thinking all summer. "You excited for freshman year?"

Marcus paddled to the edge, leaned back. His voice got quiet. "Honestly? I'm scared."

I stared at him. Marcus was never scared. Marcus was the one who convinced me to sneak out, who talked back to teachers, who once stole a grape soda from the cafeteria and acted like it was a heist.

"Everyone expects stuff," he said. "My dad wants baseball, my mom wants honors, everyone thinks I'm this confident guy but I'm just faking it."

I swam over and sat beside him. The night air hit my wet arms. "I thought you forgot about me. With the new friends and everything."

He laughed, but it wasn't mean. "Dude, you're my best friend. Those guys are cool, but they don't get it like you do."

Something rustled in the woods beyond the baseball field. We both froze.

"Bear," Marcus whispered, eyes wide.

"There aren't bears in the suburbs, you drama queen."

"There's literally been sightings, Noah. My neighbor saw one last week." He scrambled out, grabbing his clothes. "We gotta go."

I followed, laughing as we tripped into our shorts, clutching our shoes, running toward the gate like the actual zombie apocalypse was chasing us. We didn't stop running until we collapsed on his front lawn, chests heaving, staring up at stars we pretended we could name.

"We're idiots," I said.

Marcus grinned, breathless. "Yeah. But we're idiots together."