Zombies at the Pool Party

Maya stood by the edge of the infinity pool, clutching her iPhone like a lifeline. The end-of-summer party raged around her—seniors who'd graduate in three days, juniors soaking up their last moments of superiority, and her, a sophomore who'd somehow scored an invite.

Everyone moved like zombies, eyes half-lidded from too many poolside naps, too much sunscreen, or just the general exhaustion of being seventeen in August. Maya scrolled through Instagram, refreshing her feed even though nothing new had appeared in forty-seven seconds.

"You gonna actually get in, or just stand there looking cute?"

Maya jumped. Jake. The Jake. Captain of the swim team, owner of the smile that made girls forget their own names. His hair dripped pool water onto the concrete, creating tiny puddles around his bare feet.

"I'm... I'm good," Maya managed, her voice doing that embarrassing squeaky thing it sometimes did when she was nervous. She held up her phone. "Just, you know. Capturing the memories."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "You're at the pool party of the year, and you're experiencing it through a screen? That's tragic, Maya."

Something orange caught her peripheral vision. A beach ball? No—someone's hair. Chloe, the senior girl who'd dyed her hair a violent tangerine color as some kind of post-finals rebellion. She was doing cannonballs off the diving board, completely unbothered, while her clique watched like they were evaluating a performance.

"Look," Jake said, suddenly serious. "You can stay out here being a zombie with your phone, or you can actually live this moment. These palm trees aren't going to frame themselves forever." He gestured to the majestic palms lining the pool, their fronds silhouetted against the pink sunset sky.

Maya looked at her iPhone, then at the water, then at Jake's expectant face. Something shifted inside her—like waking up from a long sleep.

She locked her phone. Set it on a dry towel. Took a deep breath.

"Push me in," she said.

Jake grinned. "Your funeral."

The water shocked her system—cold, chaotic, completely alive. She surfaced, sputtering, to find Jake laughing, really laughing, not performing for anyone. Chloe orange-hair and all was swimming toward her, yelling something about a chicken fight tournament.

For the first time all night, Maya wasn't watching the party. She was IN it. And it was so much better than any photo she could've taken.