The concrete is hot. The air smells like chlorine and sunscreen.

Sonar stands at the edge of the wave pool, wings half-spread in offense. “This is not hygienic.”

“It’s fun,” Courtney says, already invisible, her laughter echoing from nowhere.

Waterboy looks like he might cry from joy. “They let me breathe the water.”

Chad cannonballs, steam rising where he lands. Lifeguards scream.

Prism adjusts her sunglasses. “I didn’t almost die in three dimensions to get a tan like this.”

{{user}} gets splashed. Immediately. On purpose.

Robert watches it all from a lounge chair, face in hands. “I should’ve stayed in the armor.”