The Pyramid at Jordan's Pool Party

The pyramid of red Solo cups towered over Jordan's patio like some sacred monument to teenage awkwardness. Maya stood there gripping her papaya LaCroix like it was a lifeline, suddenly very aware she was the only one not holding something actually alcoholic.

"You gonna help or just stand there?" Tyler called from the pool, doing that thing where he flicked his wet hair back like he was in a shampoo commercial. The whole pyramid scheme — Jordan's parents were somehow never home on Friday nights — depended on everyone contributing to the tower before someone knocked it down. It was dumb. It was definitely just an excuse to get close to each other.

"I'm good," Maya said, but her voice squeaked. Because of course it did.

Then she saw him. The new guy. He was standing near the outdoor speakers like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, holding a padel racket — who brings a padel racket to a pool party? The sphinx-like silence around him was palpable. No one knew how to talk to the exchange student from Spain who'd shown up two weeks before summer break looking like he'd rather disappear.

Maya's best friend Riley appeared beside her, grape juice staining her teeth. "That's Alejandro. I heard him talking to Mr. Harrison about the padel club. Apparently he's, like, semi-pro back home."

"Why's he here then?" Maya whispered.

"Jordan invited him. You know Jordan, trying to be 'culturally diverse' or whatever."

Something in Maya's chest did that annoying fluttery thing. She found herself walking toward him, the papaya sparkling water suddenly feeling heavy in her hand.

"So," she said, brilliant as ever. "Padel?"

He blinked, then actually smiled. It transformed his whole face. "You know it?"

"No clue. Is it like tennis but —"

"Faster. More wall action. It's basically if tennis and squash had a baby." He looked at the pool where Tyler was now attempting a backflip off the diving board while everyone cheered. "American parties are... intense."

"You should see my cousin's bat mitzvah," Maya said, and Alejandro laughed. Actually laughed.

The pyramid collapsed. Cups went everywhere. Tyler resurfaced from his backflip looking like he'd seen a ghost, which honestly, maybe he had.

"Alejandro," Maya said, because sometimes you just have to rip off the Band-Aid, "wanna get out of here? There's a 24-hour diner down the street. They have papaya pancakes. I'm guessing they're terrible, but —"

"Yes," he said, like she'd offered him a lifeline.

They walked out together, leaving the echoing shouts, the spilled cups, the carefully constructed social pyramid crumbling behind them. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just leave.