Washed Up

Maya stood at the edge of the pool, clutching her oversized **hat** like a shield. The brim curved down, hiding everything from her frizzy hair to her chin. Typical. Mom had insisted on the SPF 50 and "covering up," meanwhile the other girls were in bikinis that left basically nothing to imagination.

"You coming in?" someone called. Jake. The Jake who'd sat behind her in bio sophomore year, currently dripping wet and irritatingly gorgeous.

"My, uh, **vitamin** schedule," Maya muttered, pulling a bottle from her beach bag. "Gotta take these with food." A lie. She'd already taken them that morning, but suddenly her mom's holistic wellness obsession was her excuse for everything.

Jake swam closer, treading **water** like it was the easiest thing in the world. "We've got chips. And you've been standing there for twenty minutes looking like you're guarding the pool from crime."

Maya's face burned. Was she that obvious? This summer was supposed to be different—supposed to be the summer she became confident Maya, not hiding-in-the-corner Maya. So far, confidence Maya was a no-show.

Then she felt it—a wet nose against her leg.

**Buster**, her golden retriever who'd somehow escaped the backyard again, bounded past her and launched himself into the pool with spectacular enthusiasm. The resulting splash soaked Maya completely, hat and all.

The laughter started before she could stop it. Jake was cracking up, the other girls were pointing (but not in a mean way, for once), and Buster was happily doggy-paddling around like he owned the place.

"Well," Maya said, peeling her sodden hat off her head. "That's one way to do it."

"Come on in," Jake said, grinning. "Your dog's already having more fun than you."

Maya looked at her hat on the ground, her vitamin tablets in her bag, her dog living his best life, and Jake still treading water waiting for her. She took a breath and jumped.

The **water** was perfect. Maybe this summer wasn't a total wash after all.