Chlorine and Orange Fanta

The pool water glowed that fake electric blue, like someone had dumped a gallon of food coloring into it. Maya stood at the edge, squeezing her arms around herself, suddenly hyper-aware of the neon orange bikini she'd begged her mom to buy three weeks ago. Back then, it had seemed bold. Now it just felt like a spotlight.

"You coming in or what?" Jenna called from the deep end, doing that thing where she flipped her wet hair back like a shampoo commercial. Jenna, who'd been Maya's best friend since sixth grade. Jenna, who'd somehow morphed into someone who spent hours curling her hair for a pool party.

Maya stepped forward, toes curling against the warm concrete. "Yeah. Just warming up."

The truth was, everything felt wrong lately. Jenna had discovered boys and lip gloss and the kind of social hierarchy that made Maya's stomach hurt. Meanwhile, Maya was still the girl who slept with the stuffed bear her grandma gave her when she was seven. She'd shoved Mr. Cuddles under her bed this morning, feeling ridiculous. Fifteen was too old for teddy bears, right?

The water hit her skin like a shock. She dove under, letting the chlorine silence everything. When she surfaced, Jenna was talking to Tyler—Tyler who'd sat behind Maya in bio last year and never once noticed she existed. Now Jenna was laughing at something he said, head tilted back, all white teeth and perfect skin.

Maya swam to the edge, pressing her forehead against the cool tile. Someone pressed an orange Fanta into her hand. "You look like you need this," said Tyler's friend, Marcus. He had kind eyes and freckles across his nose.

"Thanks," she said, cracking it open. The fizz hit her tongue, artificial and perfect.

"Jenna's been looking for you," Marcus said, sliding into the water beside her. "Something about how you both need to defeat that boss level in Zombie Slayer tonight. She said she'd come over early."

Maya paused, the can hovering at her lips. "Really?"

"Yeah. She was worried you were mad at her or something." Marcus shrugged. "Friends do that, right? Overthink everything?"

She laughed, a genuine sound that surprised them both. Across the pool, Jenna caught her eye and waved, grinning. The same Jenna from sixth grade, buried under all that glossy teenager armor.

That night, Maya pulled Mr. Cuddles out from under her bed. The bear's fur was matted in places, his left eye slightly loose, but when she hugged him, she still felt that same safety she had at seven years old. Some things you didn't have to grow out of. Some things you just grew around, like rings inside a tree, carrying each version of yourself forward.

She grabbed her phone and texted Jenna: still on for Zombei Slayer? Jenna replied instantly: DUH. bringing snacks. be there at 6.

Maya smiled into the dark. Being fifteen was complicated and weird and sometimes lonely, but maybe—and this was the surprising part—she didn't have to figure it out alone.