chlorine butterflies

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water the plants with them. Which was ironic, considering she was standing at the edge of a pool.

"You got this, Maya," JJ whispered, squeezing her shoulder. "Just cannonball it. No one's looking."

No one was looking because everyone was too busy being seventeen and pretending not to care about anything. The backyard of Tyler's house was basically the social event of September—smells of coconut sunscreen and charcoal drifting from somewhere, palm trees swaying like they owned the place, about thirty people from school either in the water or dramatically posing around it.

Maya had been agonizing over this pool party for days. Her new swimsuit from Target. The fact that she'd never actually learned to swim properly. The way her palms had started sweating every time she thought about Friday night.

And now she was here, frozen at the edge while someone's phone blasted something bass-heavy and terrible.

"Yo, Maya! You coming in or what?" Tyler yelled from the water, grinning like he hadn't just made her entire week awkward.

The real problem wasn't even the swimming. It was what her mom had said that morning, pressing a gummy vitamin into her hand and looking at her with those eyes that meant *I know you're nervous about new situations.*

Then there was the whole thing at lunch earlier, where she'd been eating spinach from the salad bar because she was trying to be a person who ate spinach now, and she'd spent twenty minutes convinced there was green stuff stuck in her teeth, checking her reflection in every available surface like a paranoid maniac.

She could just go home. Could text JJ that she wasn't feeling well. Could bear another weekend of safe, dry, alone-in-her-room time.

"Maya," JJ said, suddenly quiet. "Your mom's not here. Your brain's not here either. Just jump."

So she did.

The water hit her like a thousand tiny hands, pulling her under. For a second there was only muffled silence and blue and the weird metallic taste of pool chemicals. Then she surfaced, gasping, spluttering, hair plastered to her face like a wet disaster.

"OMFG," someone said. It might have been Tyler. It might have been her own brain.

Maya wiped her eyes and saw everyone laughing—not at her, but *with* her, like she'd just become part of something. Like she'd just jumped into the water instead of standing on the edge analyzing the physics of surface tension for forty-five years.

"Your palms," JJ said, treading water beside her. "They dry yet?"

Maya looked at her hands. They were pruned from the water, fingers wrinkled and weird.

"Yeah," she said, and something in her chest loosened. "They're good."

"Good," JJ said. "Because you have spinach in your teeth."

"NO," Maya practically shouted, dunking underwater to hide her face. "Since LUNCH?"

"Since lunch," JJ confirmed, not even trying to keep the delight out of her voice. "I literally tried to tell you three times."

Maya came up for air, wiped her mouth, and started laughing so hard she choked on pool water. She was going to kill JJ later. She was going to floss her teeth with actual regret. But for now, she was here, she was wet, and the worst thing had already happened.

Sometimes the only way out was through. Even if "through" meant cannonballing into the deep end with spinach in your teeth like a total idiot.

Better than standing on the edge forever.