Bear in the Deep End

The neon green bucket hat sat on my head like a radioactive mushroom. My aunt swore it was 'vintage aesthetic,' but I looked like a traffic cone with self-esteem issues.

"You're not actually wearing that, right?" Tyler asked, loud enough for half the bus to hear. He was the kind of guy who'd been hot since sixth grade and knew it.

"It's sun protection," I mumbled, pulling the brim lower.

The lake house party. The social event of the summer. And here I was, looking like I'd been dressed by a colorblind grandmother.

Everyone was already in the water, splashing and screaming like they were in a soda commercial. I hung back, adjusting my stupid hat, watching them. Mia was there, of course. She was doing this thing where she floated on her back, hair spreading like dark ink, completely unbothered. Meanwhile, I was over here having an existential crisis about headgear.

"Marcus! Get in here!" someone yelled. "Unless you're chicken?"

Classic. The oldest trick in the book.

I kicked off my flip-flops. The hat stayed on – if I was going down, I was going down with dignity.

The water hit my waist, then my chest. Cold enough to steal my breath. I waded deeper, past the splashing middle schoolers, past the clique of Instagram-perfect girls floating on flamingo floats. And then I saw it.

Something dark moving underwater. Something huge.

"BEAR!" someone screamed.

Pandemonium. People scrambling over each other, thrashing toward shore. I stood frozen, waist-deep, as a massive dark shape broke the surface.

It was a bear-shaped pool float. A twelve-foot inflatable grizzly, painted with an expression of pure existential dread.

Mia erupted in laughter beside me. She'd swum over while I was paralyzed. "You should see your face."

I looked at her, really looked, water dripping from her eyelashes, and started laughing too. Hard, stomach-cramping laughter that had nothing to do with the inflatable bear.

"Your hat," she said, between breaths. "It's actually kind of iconic."

"Iconic?" I raised an eyebrow.

"In a 'confidence so high it circles back to weird' way." She splashed water at me. "Anyway, thanks for not leaving me here alone with the bear."

The neon green mushroom was still on my head. I was still the awkward kid who'd almost jumped out of his skin at an inflatable animal. But Mia was still talking to me, and for the first time all day, I wasn't thinking about the hat.

Sometimes the scariest things are just inflatable. And sometimes, you just have to jump in anyway.