The Pool Party Apocalypse

I looked like a zombie. Literally. Three hours of sleep, finals week eating my brain, and now here I was at Tyler's end-of-year pool party, standing on the edge of everything.

My hair had other plans. The humidity made it expand like a frizzy cloud around my head. I'd spent forty-five minutes trying to tame it, but nature — and my genetics — had other opinions.

"You good, Maya?" Jordan asked, floating in the water with that effortless grace that made everything look easy. They were surrounded by the popular crew, laughing at something I couldn't hear from my lonely perch on a patio chair.

"Just, uh, taking a break," I lied. My dog, Buster, was waiting at home, probably sleeping on my pillow. Honestly? I'd rather be there. At least Buster didn't make me question my entire existence.

The water shimmered, blue and perfect and terrifying. Everyone seemed so comfortable in their skin, so sure of who they were. Meanwhile, I was still figuring out if I was even allowed to take up space.

Then I saw it — Tyler's golden retriever, Max, bounding toward me with a tennis ball in his mouth. He dropped it at my feet, tail wagging like his whole life depended on me throwing it.

"Max thinks you're cool," said someone behind me. I turned to find Jordan, wet hair plastered to their forehead, grinning. "He's got good taste."

I threw the ball. Max launched himself after it, completely unbothered by social hierarchies or who was watching. Just living his best life, chasing what he wanted.

"Wanna come in?" Jordan asked. "The water's actually not that deep once you're in it."

And maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking, maybe I was just done overthinking everything, but I kicked off my flip-flops and jumped.

The zombie feeling washed away. My hair got wet and wild and I didn't even care. For the first time all year, I actually felt real.