The Pool Tablet Heist

Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket, vibrating against her thigh like an anxious heartbeat. The group chat was exploding with notifications—everyone was at Jordan's pool party, and she was stuck at home, grounded for reasons her parents refused to explain beyond 'we'll talk about it later.' Whatever that meant.

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, fingers twisting through her dark curly **hair**. Two hours she'd spent straightening it that morning, only for humidity to make it frizz up like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. Typical. The straightener had cost her entire month's allowance, and she'd still ended up looking like a poodle.

The house was weirdly quiet. Her parents were in their bedroom, speaking in hushed whispers that stopped whenever she walked past. Something was definitely up.

Downstairs, the TV was on pause, frozen mid-scene. Her dad had been attempting to organize the mess of cords behind the entertainment center again. A thick black **cable** snaked across the floor like a dead animal, and Maya almost tripped over it before catching herself. The cable box sat on its side, wires spilling out like intestines. Her dad's DIY project had gone sideways, literally.

'Need help?' she called out, but her parents didn't respond.

The sliding glass door to the backyard caught her attention. Through it, she could see the **water** in their above-ground pool shimmering under the summer sun. Blue and perfect, just sitting there unused. Her phone buzzed again—another photo from the party. Jordan had one of those fancy in-ground pools with LED lights and a waterfall. Everyone was splashing around, laughing, living their best lives while she was stuck in suburban purgatory.

Then her bedroom door clicked open.

'Maya?' Her mom stood there, eyes red like she'd been crying. 'We need to tell you something.'

Her heart kicked into overdrive. Were they getting divorced? Moving? Had someone died?

'Your grandmother's sick,' her mom said quietly. 'Really sick. We're going to visit her this weekend—just you and me. That's why we grounded you, so you wouldn't make other plans.'

Maya's throat tightened. Her grandmother—her Nana, who taught her how to bake cookies and let her stay up late watching movies—was sick? Suddenly, the pool party seemed worlds away. The straightened hair, the perfect tan, all of it—none of it mattered.

'She's in Ohio?' Maya managed.

Her mom nodded. 'We'll leave tomorrow morning.'

Maya looked past her mom, out at the backyard. The **water** rippled in the breeze. It would still be there when she got back. The party would be over, summer would roll on, but Nana—Nana might not be.

'Can I have a minute?' Maya asked.

Her mom closed the door softly.

Maya picked up her phone and typed into the group chat: 'Can't make it. Family emergency.' Then she set it down and walked to the mirror. Her **hair** was a mess—wild, unmanageable, imperfect. Just like life. She smiled at her reflection, really smiled, for the first time all day.

Some things were worth missing a party for.