Chasing Mechanical Bulls

The vitamin D horse pills sat on the kitchen counter like a dare I wasn't brave enough to accept. "For your bones," Mom'd said, sliding the bottle toward my cereal bowl like it was some kind of peace offering. I'd rather have had seventeen bucks and a ride to anywhere but here.

Here being the Fitzgeralds' backyard, where half the junior class was currently pretending not to watch me drown socially.

Swimming had never been my thing—not the sport, but the act itself. Too much skin, too much exposure, too many opportunities for something to go wrong. I'd spent three months strategically avoiding Jason Chen's pool party invitations with increasingly flimsy excuses. But tonight, the universe had caught up with me, courtesy of Maya sliding into my DMs with: "tonight. fitzgeralds. be there or i'm telling everyone you still sleep with a stuffed animal."

So here I was, fully clothed and clutching a red Solo cup like a lifeline, while everyone else splashed in the Fitzgeralds' inground pool like they'd all been born with gills.

Then I saw it.

The mechanical bull.

It sat in the corner of the patio like some ridiculous trophy, inflatable padding and everything. Some rental company's answer to suburban teenage boredom.

"You gonna ride that thing?" Jason materialized behind me, dripping wet. His perfect teeth flashed in the patio lights. "Or just stand there looking like you're about to throw up?"

The old me would've mumbled something about having to leave early. The old me would've drifted toward the snack table and spent the next two hours aggressively eating chips. But something about the bull—maybe the way it sat there, completely ridiculous and completely unbothered by its own absurdity—made something shift inside me.

"Watch me," I said.

I didn't think about it. If I had, I would've talked myself out of it. But there's something about being seventeen and constantly underestimated that makes you do stupid, brave things. I handed Jason my cup, strode over to the bull, and swung my leg over its padded back.

The operator raised her eyebrows. "First time?"

"Do your worst," I said, like I'd been doing this for years.

She didn't start gentle. The bull jerked forward, and I grabbed the rope with both hands, my body pitching sideways. Someone screamed—maybe me, maybe someone from the crowd that had gathered. But then something clicked. I leaned into the movement instead of fighting it, finding rhythm in the chaos, my legs squeezing tight, every muscle I'd developed from three years of silently resenting swim team practices suddenly making sense.

I stayed on for twelve seconds. It doesn't sound like much, until you're sixteen years old and everyone's watching and suddenly you're not invisible anymore.

When I finally flew off, I landed on the inflatable mat with a thud that knocked the wind out of me. But I was laughing. The crowd was cheering. Jason was high-fiving me like we'd been best friends since kindergarten.

And Maya—Maya was watching me with this look in her eyes that made something stupid happen in my chest.

"Not bad," she said, reaching down to help me up. Her hand was warm and slightly damp from pool water. "Want to go again?"

The vitamins could wait. I'd deal with Mom tomorrow. Tonight, I was too busy feeling like I might actually know who I was becoming.