“No problem,” Selene squeaked.

That night, the town held its annual Moonlight Float. Inflatables of every shape and size bobbed on the dark water, strung with battery-operated lanterns. Selene clung to a lopsided watermelon float—a chipped, inflatable relic Maya had dubbed “The WettMelon.”

“I moved here three weeks ago,” he said. “I’ve been sitting in my room, thinking everyone already has their friends, their stories. That nobody leaves space for a new guy.”