The Last Summer Before Everything

I shuffled through the cafeteria like a zombie, my brain fried from three hours of baseball practice in ninety-degree heat. Coach Miller had us running bases until my legs felt like jelly, but that was better than going home to another round of我妈 asking me about colleges I wasn't ready to think about.

"Yo, Marcus!" Jake called from our usual table. "Pool party at Kyle's tonight. His parents are out of town. You coming?"

I paused. The old Marcus would've said yes without thinking. But the new Marcus — the one who'd spent the entire school year trying to figure out who he actually was when nobody was watching — hesitated. Kyle's parties were always the same: expensive drinks, people pretending to be cooler than they were, and me feeling like I was underwater the whole time.

"Nah," I said, surprised by how easy it was. "I'm good. Got stuff to do."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Since when do you turn down pool parties? You okay, man? You seem... off."

"I'm not off," I said. "I'm just done with pretending to care about stuff I don't actually care about."

I walked away before he could respond. Outside, the air smelled like cut grass and approaching rain. I pulled out my phone and stared at the texts from my friends, the notifications, the FOMO that had ruled my life for years. Then I did something unthinkable.

I put my phone on do not disturb.

That night, I sat on my roof with a notebook I hadn't touched in months, writing down everything I was scared to say out loud. No zombie routine, no fake enthusiasm, no performing for people who only liked the version of me I showed them at pool parties and baseball games. Just me, finally figuring out that the scariest thing wasn't being unpopular — it was being real.

Somewhere below, my phone buzzed with missed calls and texts. I didn't check. I was too busy finally meeting myself.