chlorine and courage

Maya's lifeguard whistle felt like a paperweight around her neck. Three weeks into her first summer job at the Pinecrest community pool, and she still felt like an imposter. The popular kids from school—Jason's crew—were always here, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls.

"Yo lifeguard, we need more napkins!" Jason called, doing that annoying half-wave thing.

Maya grabbed a stack, her hand shaking. In the snack booth mirror, she caught her reflection and froze. Bright green spinach from her lunch wrap was wedged between her front teeth. She'd been smiling at everyone for twenty minutes.

Heat rushed to her face. She scrambled to pick it out with her fingernail while pretending to organize straws.

"Need some help there?"

Maya jumped. It was Leo, that quiet kid from her English class. He wasn't with Jason's group—usually sat solo under the umbrella.

"I was..." Maya started, then shrugged. "Humiliating myself, apparently."

Leo grinned. "Last week? I walked around with my shirt inside-out all day. Nobody said anything until seventh period."

A laugh escaped before Maya could stop it. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious." Leo leaned against the booth. "My little sister's cat ate my homework. Like, literally shredded it. Teacher thought I was lying. I had to bring her the pieces as proof."

"That's actually kind of iconic."

"Right?" Leo pushed off the booth. "Hey, some of us are going to the water park tomorrow after close. No jerks allowed. You should come."

Maya hesitated, glancing at Jason's group by the diving board. They seemed smaller from here.

"Yeah," she said, surprised by her own confidence. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The whistle around her neck didn't feel so heavy anymore.