The Poolside Disconnect

Marcus's summer had been a spectacular flop so far. His parents had finally sprung for that inground **pool** everyone else had gotten, like, three summers ago, but the timing couldn't be worse—right when he'd been promoted to varsity **baseball** and was supposed to be spending every waking moment at batting practice. Instead, he was stuck playing lifeguard for his little sister and her friends while his Instagram stories collected dust.

"Marcus! Your dad says the **cable** guy is here!" his mom yelled from the kitchen, making him jump and practically spill his lukewarm Monster onto the patio stones.

Great. Another thing to interrupt his extremely busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing.

But then he saw the cable guy—this college-aged dude with tattoos and an actual cool haircut. And the guy's girlfriend was waiting in the truck, blasting music that definitely wasn't allowed on Marcus's carefully curated workout playlist.

"Sup," the guy said, fist-bumping him like Marcus wasn't wearing his dad's old cargo shorts and a middle school field day shirt. "You play?" He nodded toward the baseball glove Marcus had brought out to break in.

"Varsity," Marcus said, trying to sound casual. "Third base."

"Nice. I played shortstop till I blew out my knee." The guy grinned. "Hey, wanna help me with this? I'll show you how to hotwire the pool filter if your parents ever try to ground you."

Marcus's sister and her friends were practicing their synchronized swimming routine (which was honestly just them flopping around dramatically) in the shallow end. The cable guy's girlfriend was now dancing on the patio. And somehow, Marcus was learning life hacking skills from a guy who'd just met him ten minutes ago.

By the time they left, Marcus had three new playlists, the guy's number for when he wanted to "actually practice," and his sister had convinced the girlfriend to be a synchronized swimming judge. The pool filter worked better than ever, and Marcus's summer wasn't looking so disastrous after all.

Sometimes the best connections weren't the ones you planned for. And sometimes your parents' timing wasn't the worst thing in the world. Almost. He still would've preferred batting practice.