Chlorine Dreams and Vitamin C

The summer air hung thick and sticky as I stood at the edge of the **pool**, gripping my towel like a lifeline. Everyone else was already in – Jake cannonballing off the diving board, Sarah and Mia floating on inflatable flamingos, laughing at something I couldn't hear. I'd been avoiding the water all summer, ever since that embarrassing incident during gym class when I'd forgotten my swimsuit and had to sit on the bleachers in my regular clothes while everyone else played water polo.

"You coming in or what?" Jake called, droplets of water catching the sunlight like diamonds as he surfaced.

I hesitated. Behind me, the neighbor's **cat** – a mangy orange tabby named Nacho who thought he was a dog – watched from atop the fence, as if judging my inability to just jump in already. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Mom again, probably calling to remind me to take my **vitamin** D supplements because apparently sitting in my room playing video games all day wasn't enough natural sun exposure.

"Be there in a sec," I lied.

The truth was, I was supposed to be at **baseball** practice right now. First base, specifically. Coach Patterson had given me one more chance to prove I belonged on the team after I'd spent the last three games grounding out to the pitcher. But I'd skipped. Again.

Instead, I was here, at what was supposed to be the party of the summer, standing frozen while everyone else had moved on without me. The **cable** guy was working on the connection at the house next door, and I caught him watching me with this expression that said he'd seen a million awkward teenagers do exactly this – freeze up when it mattered most.

I thought about Sarah, how she'd smiled at me yesterday in the hallway between classes, how she'd mentioned she'd be here today. I thought about the baseball roster posted outside the gym, my name listed under "Maybe." I thought about how I'd spent the last fifteen years of my life standing on the edges of things, always watching, never jumping in.

Nacho the cat meowed from his fence post, and something in my chest shifted. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the way Jake was now doing his terrible dolphin impression, making Sarah laugh so hard she almost fell off her flamingo. Maybe it was just time.

I dropped my towel on the deck. I didn't dive. I didn't make a spectacle. I just stepped off the edge, and the water closed over my head, cool and shocking and absolutely perfect. When I came up sputtering, Jake was grinning. Sarah waved from her flamingo. For the first time all summer, I wasn't watching anymore. I was finally in the pool, and it felt like exactly where I belonged.