Cannonball Confidence

Jordan's palms were sweating so bad he could barely grip his phone. Summer pool party at Chloe's house—the social event of the season—and he was currently hovering behind a deck chair like a total NPC.

"You gonna swim or what?" his best friend Mateo whispered, nudging him. "Everyone's waiting."

Jordan stared at the **pool**, its surface glinting like blue nail polish in the July heat. In the deep end, Chloe was laughing with Tyler—the varsity **baseball** captain whose forearms were basically a conspiracy theory. Tyler had just executed the perfect cannonball, and now everyone was looking at Jordan.

His brain was straight-up buffering.

"I... uh... need a minute," Jordan mumbled, which was weak. This was weak behavior.

"You've been fronting all year," Mateo said. "About how you used to swim competitively? This is your moment to lock in."

Right. The stories Jordan had been telling since freshman year—about his supposed previous life as a competitive swimmer upstate. Complete fabrication. He'd never even joined a swim team. But now here he was, painted into a corner of his own making.

He moved toward the pool's edge, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to break out. Chloe and Tyler were watching. Everyone was watching.

Then his little sister Maya emerged from behind the **palm** tree in the corner, holding Jordan's childhood stuffed animal—Mr. **Bear**, the ragged teddy bear he'd slept with until he was literally twelve.

"Jordan! Mom says you forgot Mr. **Bear**!" Maya yelled across the deck. Dead silence. Absolute devastation. "She said you can't sleep without him!"

It was over. His social life, officially cancelled. Tyler was smirking. Jordan felt his face burning hotter than the pavement.

But then Chloe started laughing—not mean laughing, but actual laughing. "OMG, Mr. **Bear**? That's actually kind of iconic."

"Wait," Tyler said, looking at Jordan. "You're that Jordan? The one who did the whole teddy bear presentation in English last year?"

Jordan nodded, confused. "Yeah?"

"That presentation was lowkey fire," Tyler said. "I totally bombed that assignment."

Chloe swam over to the edge. "So are you getting in or what? Or are you gonna let Mr. **Bear** down?"

Jordan looked at the pool, at the people waiting, at his sister still clutching the bear like a weapon of mass destruction. Something in him just—clicked. The pressure, the stories, the need to perform... it all felt suddenly ridiculous.

He jumped.

The water rushed up around him, cool and shocking and perfect. When he surfaced, sputtering and laughing, Chloe and Tyler were cheering. Maya dropped Mr. **Bear** on a lounge chair with a thumbs-up.

"Okay," Mateo called from the deck. "But next time? Maybe work on your form, bro. That was barely a 4/10 cannonball."

Jordan flipped him off, but he was grinning. Maybe perfect wasn't the point. Maybe cannonballs weren't supposed to be graceful.

Sometimes you just have to jump, even when your palms are sweating and your sister is holding your childhood hostage. Sometimes you make a splash, and sometimes you make a wave.

Either way, you're in the pool.