Chlorine Stings Worse Than Regret

The summer before sophomore year, Maya's mom decided she needed a "vitamin regimen" because apparently growth spurts could still happen at fifteen. So now Maya stood at the edge of the pool, clutching a green smoothie that tasted like lawn clippings and regret, watching everyone else look effortlessly cool.

"You coming in?" called Jake, the boy she'd been crushing on since last year's science fair. He was treading water, his orange swim trunks bright against the blue. Meanwhile, Maya was wearing a mismatched bikini because she'd grown out of last year's and was too self-conscious to shop for a new one.

"Just finishing my drink," she lied, taking another sip of the spinach disaster. Some kid had told her that green smoothies were basically health in a cup, but this one felt like punishment.

Her phone buzzed. Group chat blowing up with people who weren't here, which was fine, because being here was social suicide. She'd only come because her parents said she needed to "get out there." Whatever that meant.

Lily, the girl who somehow made everything look easy, climbed out of the pool, water droplets glistening like she was in a commercial. "Maya! You made it!" She grabbed Maya's arm. "Come on, we're doing chicken fights."

Before Maya could protest, she was being dragged toward the water. Her smoothie was abandoned on a table. She felt like she was walking to her execution.

Jake was already paired with someone, obviously. Of course he was. Maya ended up on some freshman's shoulders, awkward and tall and hyper-aware of her knobby knees. But then something weird happened—they won. Then they won again. And suddenly Maya was laughing, actually laughing, and the green smoothie was forgotten and Jake was looking at her like he'd never actually seen her before.

Later, when everyone had migrated to snacks and the sun was dipping lower, Jake sat beside her on the pool edge.

"What was in that smoothie anyway?" he asked.

"Spinach," Maya said. "And despair."

He laughed, and it wasn't mean. "My mom makes me take these vitamin gummies every morning. They're shaped like dinosaurs. I think she forgot I'm fifteen."

They sat there, feet in the water, talking about nothing and everything, and Maya realized maybe summer wasn't going to be completely terrible. Maybe growing up didn't have to feel so awkward all the time.

Okay, it would still be awkward. But maybe that was part of the point.