The Truth About Last Summer

Chloe's Instagram post from the county fair went viral at exactly 7:43 PM. I know because I was staring at my cracked **iPhone**, refreshing every twelve seconds like a loser, while she captioned the photo: "best night ever with my favorite people 💕"

I wasn't in it.

Three months ago, I'd told everyone I'd ridden the mechanical **bull** at that fair. I'd described how I'd stayed on for a full minute while the operator cranked it to maximum difficulty, how a crowd had gathered, how I'd flexed for the cheering masses. Tyler had nodded slowly, eyes narrowed like he was processing something. Sarah had called me "literally insane." I'd felt invincible.

The truth? I'd chickened out. Watched from the fence while some middle schooler rode it for forty seconds and bailed. But admitting that felt like social suicide in sophomore year, when everyone was constantly curating their personalities like Pinterest boards.

Now Chloe was dating Tyler. They'd probably bonded over how hilarious it was that I lied about something so stupid.

My mom's **dog**, Buster, jumped onto my bed and drooled on my homework. He was a rescue mutt with anxiety issues and zero loyalty—he'd sell me out for a piece of cheese. But at least he didn't have Instagram.

"You're a good boy," I told him, scratching behind his ears. "You're not fake."

My phone buzzed. A group chat notification:

Tyler: bro u coming to jasons party?

I typed out: yeah.

Deleted it.

Typed: nah not feeling good.

Deleted again.

The truth was, I didn't know who I was anymore—one part genuine, three parts performance art. Buster rolled onto his back, exposing his belly like he didn't have a care in the world. He was just being a dog. No persona. No audience.

I opened Instagram, found Chloe's post, and commented: "that bull thing was actually Tyler who rode it lol i just said it was me to sound cool 🤦‍♂️"

My thumb hovered over send. Then I pressed it.

Buster sneezed.

Three dots appeared instantly. My heart hammered. Then:

Chloe: omg lol we know

Tyler: yeah we were there bro saw u standing by the fence the whole time

Sarah: we were just being nice 😭

I stared at the screen. They'd known. All along. And they hadn't annihilated me socially. They'd just... let it be.

My shoulders dropped three inches.

"Okay," I said to Buster, who was now chewing on my history homework. "Being yourself might not actually kill you."

He ignored me, because he was a dog, and dogs have better priorities.