Thunder at the Deep End

The hat was my cousin's frat cap—bright orange, said CHAD across the front in block letters. I was wearing it because my mom had butchered my hair that morning and I looked like a buzzed chicken. Now I was at Maya Chen's pool party, looking like a discount version of a guy named Chad, praying no one would notice me.

The pool was already chaos. Someone had brought a golden retriever named Buster who kept barking at the water slide like it had personally offended him. Every time someone screamed going down, Buster would lose it, which only made everyone scream more, which made Buster scream more. It was a feedback loop of chaos.

Then came the lightning.

Not real lightning—that would've been too easy. It was Marcus, calling out "lightning round" for chicken fights in the pool. He was already paired with Sophia, his hands practically fused to her waist. I was standing by the snack table, pretending to be deeply interested in a bag of Doritos, when Maya herself walked up to me.

"You gonna swim or just model that weird hat all day?"

My brain short-circuited. "I, uh, don't have a suit."

Maya rolled her eyes. "So? Everyone's jumping in clothes. Marcus's dad's the only one who cares and he's inside watching golf."

She splashed water at me. It hit the hat with a soft plap.

"Take it off," she said. "What's under there?"

"A tragedy."

She laughed. Then something happened—the sky actually opened up. Real lightning, purple-white and spider-web across the darkening sky. Thunder shook the ground. Someone screamed. Buster lost his absolute mind and bolted—straight toward the pool, leaping in with the grace of a confused cannonball.

Maya grabbed my arm. "Help me get him out!"

We both jumped in—me, Chad hat and all, and Maya in her sundress. The pool erupted into chaos. Everyone screaming, laughing, splashing. Buster thrashing around like he'd discovered water was not, in fact, his enemy. The hat came off in the commotion.

I didn't even think about it.

We got Buster to the stairs, where he shook himself off, spraying everyone. We were both dripping, breathless, my wrecked hair exposed to the world.

Maya looked at me, water dripping from her eyelashes. "There's nothing wrong with your hair, Chad."

"My name's not—"

"I know." She grinned. "It looks fine. Better than fine."

The real storm broke then—rain sheeting down, everyone running for the house screaming. Maya took my hand. We ran together through the downpour, hatless, breathless, her dog following behind us like he'd planned the whole thing.