Chlorine and Chaos

The community pool was my personal hell, but also the only place I could earn enough for concert tickets. I'd been a junior lifeguard for exactly three days, and already I'd seen things no one should ever see—like Mrs. Henderson's water aerobics class, or Tyler Jensen's attempts to impress Sarah by swimming butterfly in the shallow end.

"You're doing great, just keep your head up," I called to some kid doing a pathetic doggy-paddle. Meanwhile, Tyler was now "accidentally" splashing Sarah every thirty seconds. It was painful to watch, but also weirdly impressive dedication.

Then I saw it: a cat. A very confused, very wet orange tabby standing at the edge of the pool, looking like it regretted every life choice that led to this moment.

"There's a CAT!" someone screamed, and suddenly everyone was running toward the far end of the pool because apparently cats are more terrifying than the time someone threw up in the deep end.

I jumped into action—or tried to. My whistle got tangled in my hair, and I face-planted on the wet concrete. Smooth. Meanwhile, the cat was having none of this chaos and calmly proceeded to walk along the pool's edge like it owned the place.

Tyler, in an attempt to be the hero, grabbed a net and lunged. The cat hissed, Tyler slipped, and suddenly I was watching my coworker bobbing in the water while the cat sat on a lounge chair, grooming itself like nothing had happened.

I jumped in, clothes and all. The water was shockingly cold against my skin. Tyler was flailing, somehow still managing to look embarrassed even while nearly drowning. I grabbed his arm and towed him to the shallow end where he could stand.

"I was trying to HELP," he sputtered, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. Sarah was laughing so hard she was practically crying. The cat was now asleep on someone's towel.

"Nice one, Aquaman," I said, suppressing a smile. Tyler glared at me, then started laughing too.

Later, as I sat in the guard chair, dripping and exhausted, Sarah brought me a towel. "That was actually pretty heroic," she said. "Even if you looked like a drowned rat."

"Drowned rat? I prefer "mercore in training." I smiled. "The cat though—that cat is the real MVP here."

She laughed, and for the first time all summer, I felt like maybe I belonged. Even if I was wet, covered in chlorine, and had almost drowned my coworker. Some days are just like that.