The Summer We Almost Died (Twice)

Pool parties were basically my personal version of hell. Show up, stand around looking awkward while everyone else played two truths and a lie with their trauma, and pray nobody noticed you were down bad.

But Maya had insisted. "Bro, you've been ghosting everyone all summer. You need this." So there I was, standing by the snack table, nursing a warm orange soda, watching my classmates splash around in someone's backyard pool like they were in a music video.

"You gonna swim or just drown in your vibes?" Maya appeared beside me, dripping wet, her hair slicked back.

"Hard pass," I said. "Last time I went swimming, my period started in the middle of Marco Polo. Never again."

She rolled her eyes. "That was literally seventh grade. Get over it."

"Not happening."

The conversation was interrupted by hysterical laughter from across the yard. Tyler's new golden retriever puppy had grabbed someone's towel and was doing victory laps around the pool. The dog was chaos incarnate—knocking over drinks, barking at its own reflection, basically living its best life while everyone tried and failed to catch it.

"That dog is going to destroy everything," I muttered.

"That's the point," Maya said. "It's not that deep. Not everything has to be a whole thing." She looked at me sideways. "You know what your problem is? You think everyone's watching you. News flash: nobody cares."

Ouch.

"Wow, thanks for that.

""I'm your friend, I'm supposed to be real with you." She softened. "Look, Tyler's parents aren't home. His older sister said she'd buy us pizza if we help clean up afterward. We can just chill. No pressure."

I hesitated. The fence gate creaked open, and someone screamed.

A massive brown bear waddled into the yard like it owned the place.

"WHAT IS THAT?" someone shrieked.

"That's a BEAR," Tyler yelled, scrambling out of the pool. "EVERYONE INSIDE! NOW!"

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. People were tripping over each other, grabbing towels, abandoning shoes. The bear made a beeline for the snack table—which still had my untouched orange soda and an entire family-size bag of chips.

"My food!" Tyler cried.

"Bro, your LIFE," Maya said, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the house.

We ended up squeezed into Tyler's bathroom with five other people, listening to the bear destroy the snack table through the open window. The chaos dog was barking its head off somewhere in the distance.

"I can't believe this just happened," I whispered, pressed against Maya's shoulder.

"I can't believe that bear ate all the chips," she said. We both started laughing, hysteria bubbling up. "Did you see its face? It looked so satisfied."

"Best. Pool party. Ever."

Later, after animal control came and went, and Tyler's sister came through with the emergency pizza she'd ordered from her phone in her bedroom, we all sat on the back deck watching the sunset.

"So," Maya said, "about earlier—you gonna tell me what's actually going on? Or do I need to invite another bear to get you to talk?"

I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized she'd been trying to reach out all summer. I was the one making everything complicated.

"Yeah," I said. "Let's talk."

Maybe pool parties weren't so bad after all. Or maybe it just took a bear to make me realize I wasn't as alone as I thought.