The Pool Party Protocol

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching his phone like it was a lifeline. The WiFi out here was practically nonexistent, and the ethernet cable dangling from the backyard router looked like a sad, forgotten snake. Someone should really fix that.

Across the yard, Jason—the self-appointed king of tenth grade—was holding court on a inflatable throne, holding court like he was Pharaoh himself. The social pyramid at Lincoln High was real, and Jason sat comfortably at the top, while Marcus floated somewhere near the bottom, maybe in the secret underground chamber.

"Yo, Marcus!" Jason called out. "Quit lurking and get in the water! Unless you're scared?"

A few girls giggled. Marcus's face burned. This was it—the moment to either stay dry and awkward or take the plunge. He'd spent all year watching from the sidelines while Jason bull-dozed through everyone's confidence, making himself look big by making others feel small.

But something in Marcus snapped. Maybe it was the humidity, maybe it was the way Jason's minions laughed like trained hyenas, or maybe Marcus was just done being the quiet kid.

"Actually," Marcus said, his voice steadier than he felt, "I'm not scared of water. I'm scared of what's breeding in it. Have you seen Jason's sister's chlorine test results? Because I have, and we're basically swimming in science experiment."

Dead silence. Then someone snorted. Then someone else.

Jason's face reddened. "Whatever, man. You're just—"

"Just what?" Marcus walked to the pool's edge. "Just done pretending you're funny?" He cannonballed in, sending a massive wave toward Jason's precious throne.

As he surfaced, wiping water from his eyes, he realized something: the pyramid wasn't solid. It was just people standing on each other because nobody wanted to be first to jump off.

And sometimes you had to make your own splash to see who'd jump in with you.