Chlorine Dreams

The pool deck smelled like December and chlorine and pure misery. Jordan adjusted their goggles for the third time, trying to look like they knew what they were doing, even though they'd barely survived two weeks of beginner's swim team.

"You're overthinking the rotation," Jordan's mom had said that morning, pressing those weird neon-orange gummy vitamins into their palm. "These'll help with focus. Coach says your times are plateauing."

Coach Miller definitely had thoughts about Jordan's times. Mostly that they were trash.

The whistle blasted. Jordan's stomach did that thing where it felt like it was trying to escape their body.

"Jordan! You're up!"

The water hit them like a physical force. Cold. Shocking. Suddenly they were thrashing, arms flailing, everything Coach Miller had spent weeks explaining evaporating from their brain. Somewhere in the chaos of swallowing half the pool and losing all dignity, Jordan heard cheering.

Not the normal pity-cheering they'd been getting for two weeks. Real cheering.

They surfaced, gasping, expecting to see Coach Miller looking disappointed. Instead, the whole team was gathered at the edge. Even Kai, the impossibly fast senior who'd barely acknowledged Jordan's existence.

"Dude," Kai said, grinning. "That was the most aggressively mid-50 free I've ever seen. But that flip turn? Actually kind of fire."

Jordan blinked. Pool water dripped from their eyelashes.

"Wait, actually?"

"Actually." Kai tossed them a towel. "Also, you're not taking those pre-workout supplements Coach's trying to push on everyone, right? Because that's sketch city."

Jordan thought about the neon vitamin gummies in their bag.

"They're just vitamins," they said slowly. "From my mom."

"Good." Kai's expression shifted to something more serious. "Because you're fast enough without them. That turn proved it."

That night, Jordan took the vitamin gummy bottle and shoved it in the back of their desk drawer. Some things you didn't need supplements for. Some things you just had to keep swimming through the mess of it all, until you finally found something that felt like your own rhythm.

Tomorrow, they'd practice that flip turn until they could do it without thinking.

But that was tomorrow's problem.