Breathing Underwater

I felt like a zombie—half-aliving through finals week, surviving on three hours of sleep and caffeine that definitely wasn't working anymore. But here I was, at Jenna's pool party, because apparently celebrating the end of junior year was mandatory when your best friend was the social director of your friend group.

The water looked better than people. Better than pretending to care about who was dating who, better than forcing smiles that didn't reach my eyes. I dove in.

Swimming had always been my escape. Underwater, the noise faded—no expectations, no awkward small talk, just the rhythm of my own breathing and the way my arms cut through the blue. Lap after lap, until my muscles burned and my brain finally shut up.

"You've been down there for like, ten minutes," someone said from above.

I surfaced, wiping water from my eyes. Jenna.

She sat on the pool edge, legs dangling in the water, not scrolling through her phone for once. That was weird—Jenna lived on her phone. Lately, I'd been low-key spying on her socials, trying to figure out why she'd been distant. Why our conversations had become all surface.

"You okay?" she asked, actually looking at me.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I treaded water. "You've been weird lately."

Jenna laughed, but it sounded tired. "Yeah, well. My parents are splitting up."

The words hit me harder than any final exam ever could. I froze.

"Why didn't you—"

"Tell you?" She shrugged, picking at a loose thread on her towel. "You've been so stressed about finals and college apps. I didn't want to dump more on you."

I felt like the worst friend ever. I'd been so wrapped up in my own zombie-state, obsessing over why she was pulling away instead of actually checking in. I'd been treating her like a supporting character in my drama, not a real person going through something real.

"Jenna," I said, swimming to the edge. "I'm here. For whatever you need. Even if I'm operating on two brain cells right now."

She smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. That's what friends are for."

Maybe being a zombie wasn't permanent. Maybe you just needed to remember how to come up for air.