Bear Market Bullies

My dad's been obsessing over the bear market all year, spiraling about his clients' portfolios tanking while I'm just trying to survive sophomore year without completely embarrassing myself. Which is exactly what happened when the school mascot—some poor kid stuffed into a sweaty bear costume—tripped over his own giant furry feet during the pep rally and face-planted at my feet.

"No shot," Marcus whispered beside me, practically doubled over. "Bro really ate it."

I mean, I felt bad laughing but the vibe was honestly unhinged. That's when coach Hayes—everyone calls him The Bull behind his back, and not affectionately—slammed his clipboard against the gym floor. The echo shut everyone up real quick.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," he roared, and the word thunder fit him perfectly. "No focus. No discipline. You think this is funny? You think life's gonna hand you participation trophies?"

His eyes landed on me. "Kai. Since you're so entertained, maybe you should show us what you've got at the meet tomorrow."

The problem wasn't the competition. I could hold my own in the water, decent enough to make varsity. The problem was that I'd been lowkey panicking before every race since the incident last season—when I'd inhaled half the pool during a turn and had to get dragged out, sputtering and humiliated while everyone pretended not to stare.

I stayed late at the pool that night, practicing my starts until my skin pruned and my muscles burned. The water felt different somehow—less like something to fear and more like something to master. When I finally pulled myself from the pool, dripping and exhausted, I realized I wasn't thinking about the bear market or Coach Bull's expectations or what anyone would say if I choked again.

I was just thinking about how good it felt to be strong enough to try again.

The next day, I won my heat by half a second. Not earth-shattering, not make-the-headlines impressive. But when I climbed out of the water, my dad was there, phone silenced in his pocket. And Coach Bull actually nodded—like, genuinely nodded, not the terrifying approval I'd been craving my whole life, but something better. Real respect, earned the hard way.

"Solid swim, Kai," Marcus said, bumping my shoulder. "No cap, that was fire."

The bear market was still there. Coach was still intense. But somewhere between the fear and the proving myself, I'd found something that actually mattered—confidence that didn't depend on anything but myself.