The Summer Everything Changed

Maya clutched her iphone so hard her knuckles turned white, thumb hovering over Caleb's Instagram story. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of losing her best friend since seventh grade because she'd said something stupid at lunch and now everything was ruined.

"You coming in or what?" called Jenna, floating in the middle of the pool. "Water's perfect!"

Swimming had always been Maya's thing—her escape, the place where overthinking couldn't catch up. But today her orange bikini felt too bright, like she was begging for attention she didn't want.

She waded in slowly, letting the cool water swallow her legs, then waist, then chest. Under the surface, everything muffled into this perfect blue silence where instagram stories and locker room whispers couldn't reach her. Until she heard barking.

Mrs. Hernandez's golden retriever, Buster, had squeezed through someone's left-open gate and was now trotting around the pool area like he owned the place, tail wagging, dripping wet. Someone shrieked. Someone else laughed. And then—

CRASH.

Buster, apparently excited by all the commotion, knocked over a folding table. Two liters of orange soda went EVERYWHERE. A sticky orange lake spread across the concrete like some radioactive disaster.

Maya surfaced just as Buster caught sight of her and bounded over, shaking his soaking wet fur directly onto her already damp shoulders.

"You okay?" someone asked.

It was Caleb.

Maya's heart did this stupid little flip thing that made her angry at herself. He was standing there in swim trunks, looking exactly like he had three weeks ago before everything got weird, holding out his hand.

"Yeah," she said, suddenly aware of orange soda splattered on her leg and dog water dripping from her hair. "Just living my best life."

Caleb actually smiled—really smiled, not that fake half-smile he'd been giving her all year. "Remember when Buster ate your science fair project in seventh grade?"

Maya snorted. "And you told Mrs. Johnson it was 'educational research about canine digestive patterns.'"

"Saved us from failing," he said, sinking down beside her on the pool edge. Their shoulders brushed. "Look, about what I said at lunch—"

"You were right," Maya interrupted. "I WAS being extra about the group project."

"And I was being a jerk about it," Caleb countered. "I missed you, Maya. This summer sucks without my favorite person to overthink everything with."

Their phones buzzed simultaneously on the pool deck—notifications from the group chat. Everyone at the party was taking videos of Buster's orange soda adventure.

"Wanna bail on this party?" Caleb asked, nodding toward the gate. "We could walk to the gas station. Get actual food that hasn't been traumatized by a dog."

Maya looked at her iphone, then at Caleb, then at the golden retriever now proudly wearing someone's abandoned sunglasses like they were his.

"Absolutely," she said. "Friend, we are OUT of here."