Chlorine and Orange Juice

The pool smelled like desperation and cheap cleaning products. I'd been doing laps for two hours straight, my arms screaming, but it was better than sitting alone at lunch again. Since Jordan and I stopped being friends two weeks ago, I'd spent more time underwater than above it.

"You're gonna turn into a fish," a voice called out. I surfaced, sputtering, to see Riley perched on the edge of the pool, their legs dangling in the water. We'd been in AP Bio together since September, but we'd never actually talked.

"Maybe that's the goal," I said, treading water. "Fish don't have to deal with high school drama."

Riley snorted. "Fair. But fish also can't eat pizza." They held up a greasy paper bag. "I saw you swimming from the cafeteria. Figured you might need actual food instead of whatever you had for lunch."

I pulled myself out of the pool, dripping everywhere. My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten much lately — just been popping this vitamin supplement my mom bought, convinced it would help me "focus" during the "difficult time." Spoiler: it didn't.

We sat on the pool deck, me in my still-wet swimsuit, Riley fully dressed and somehow comfortable. They passed me a slice of pepperoni.

"So," Riley said around a mouthful of crust. "Jordan being a jerk, or...?"

"Jordan being Jordan," I said. "They got popular, I stayed... me. Next thing I knew, I was embarrassing to be around." I took a bite of pizza and nearly cried. It tasted like actual happiness.

"Sucks," Riley said simply. "But also, Jordan's kind of basic now. Have you seen their TikTok? It's all 'aesthetic' smoothie bowls and pretending to study."

I laughed. It felt weird and good, like stretching a muscle I hadn't used in weeks.

"You know what my therapist says?" Riley continued. "She says real friends are like vitamins. You don't notice them until you're deficient, but they're literally keeping you alive. Jordan was like... sugar. Tasted good for a second, then you crash."

I looked at the pool lights flickering on in the gathering dusk. "So you're saying I need to take my vitamins."

"I'm saying," Riley nudged my shoulder, "that you've got a new swimming buddy if you want one. I suck at laps but I'm excellent at sitting on the edge and eating pizza."

The pool smells didn't seem so desperate anymore. The chlorine still stung my eyes, but for the first time in weeks, I didn't want to disappear underwater.

"Deal," I said. "But next time, no pineapple on the pizza. That's where I draw the line."

Riley grinned. "You're so weird. Good weird, though."

And just like that, the water didn't feel so lonely anymore.