Chlorine & Second Chances

My hair looked like a poodle that had been electrocuted. That was literally the only thing I could think about as I stood at the edge of Jessica's pool, my toes curling against the concrete. The cool blue water beckoned, but jumping in meant exposing the disaster my stylist had created yesterday when I'd asked for "layers" and somehow walked out looking like I'd lost a fight with a lawnmower.

"You coming in or what?" called Jake, sliding into the water with that effortless grace that made my stomach do these little flip things. Jake Martinez. Baseball captain. Owner of the smile that had been haunting my dreams since seventh grade.

I froze. Jake played baseball. Baseball players didn't date girls who looked like wet poodles. This was fine. Everything was fine.

The real nightmare happened twenty minutes later. I'd finally worked up the courage to actually swim—mostly staying underwater so nobody could see my hair—when I hauled myself out and Jessica's mom appeared with pizza. My stomach growled loud enough that people actually turned around.

But when I finally grabbed a slice and started talking to Jake—JAKE WAS TALKING TO ME ABOUT HIS BASEBALL GAME—I noticed something. The worried glance he gave me. The way he kept looking at my mouth.

"You have, um..." He gestured to his own teeth.

My heart literally stopped. I sprinted to the bathroom mirror. SPINACH. From lunch. A giant, fluorescent piece of spinach wedged between my front teeth like a neon sign announcing my social death.

I wanted to disappear. I wanted to dissolve into the tiles. But then I heard someone behind me.

"I did that last week at Homecoming," said Jessica, leaning against the doorframe. "Talked to my crush for twenty minutes with popcorn stuck in my braces. He still texted me afterward."

"Really?"

"Girl, please. Jake's been asking about you all day. The spinach is barely even noticeable."

When I came back outside, Jake was still there. Still waiting. And when I finally got in the pool—chlorine burning my eyes, my frizzy hair definitely a mess—he splashed me and laughed, and suddenly none of it mattered. The hair. The spinach. The fact that I probably looked like a drowned rat.

Sometimes the moments that feel like the end of the world are just the beginning of something better.