Chlorine and Courage

The invitation had been sitting on my nightstand for three days. Jordan's pool party. The social event of the summer before sophomore year. I'd been staring at it while trying to swallow my mom's enormous vitamin D supplements – she swore they'd help with my "seasonal mood disorder," which was basically her way of saying I'd been holed up in my room since school ended.

"You're going," Chloe said, bursting into my room without knocking. "Everyone's going to be there. Including Tyler."

I groaned into my pillow. Tyler, who'd sat behind me in biology and always made those dumb jokes about mitochondria being the powerhouse of my heart instead of my cell. Tyler, who I'd been lowkey obsessed with since October.

So there I was, standing at the edge of Jordan's pool, clutching my towel like a lifeline. The pool glittered deceptively innocent – just water, right? But somehow it felt like the entire social hierarchy of tenth grade was submerged in that chlorine.

"Maya! You coming in or what?" Jordan called from the deep end, surrounded by her effortlessly cool friends. I forced a smile, about to make some excuse about forgetting my swimsuit, when suddenly something came barreling through the back gate.

A dog. A massive, slobbery golden retriever that clearly had zero concept of social boundaries.

"MAX!" someone yelled, but it was too late. The dog made a beeline for me – naturally, the person standing closest to the edge – and in my desperate attempt to avoid being tackled by fifty pounds of wet fur, I stumbled backward.

Splash.

Complete and utter social suicide. I emerged from the water, hair plastered to my face, to find everyone staring. Then Tyler started laughing. Not mean laughing – real laughing, bent-over, can't-breathe laughing. "That was legendary," he said, reaching out a hand to help me up. "Max has been chasing me all afternoon. You basically saved me."

The dog sat proudly next to my discarded towel, looking ridiculously pleased with itself. And somehow, standing there dripping wet while Tyler laughed and Jordan rolled her eyes and the dog wagged its tail like it had just accomplished something amazing, I realized something.

I didn't die. The earth didn't swallow me whole. And Tyler was still looking at me – really looking at me.

"Good thing I took my vitamin this morning," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "Gotta keep my strength up for bodychecking dogs."

Tyler laughed again, and this time, he didn't look away.

Maybe summer wasn't going to be so terrible after all.