Drowning in the Shallow End

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The backyard was packed with juniors he barely knew, all somehow acting like they'd been best friends since kindergarten. Chad's house. Obviously. The kid whose parents literally bought him a car for his sixteenth birthday was now hosting the first party of summer, and Marcus had scored an invite through pure luck—his older sister's friend's cousin or something.

"Yo Marcus, you coming in?" It was Tyler, waving him over to the deeper end where the popular crew had claimed their territory. "We're doing chicken fights!"

"Uh, maybe later!" Marcus called back, lying through his teeth. He'd barely survived swim lessons in fifth grade.

That's when he noticed HER. Jasmine. The same Jasmine who sat two rows ahead in Pre-Calc, the one whose laugh somehow echoed through his thoughts way more often than he'd ever admit. She was standing near the padel court Chad's parents had apparently installed in their backyard—because why not, right?—talking about some tournament she'd played in over spring break.

"You play?" Marcus found himself asking before he could talk himself out of it.

Jasmine turned, and her eyes lit up. "Actually, yeah! My dad's obsessed. We have a court at our country club. You?"

"Oh, nah, I was just—"

"You should totally play sometime!" she said, and Marcus's heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. "I could teach you! It's basically tennis but more chill."

"Yeah, that'd be... actually, yeah, that sounds cool," Marcus managed, and suddenly he was talking to Jasmine about something other than assigned homework, and she was laughing at his jokes, and wasn't this what high school was supposed to feel like?

But then her friends called her over for pool pictures—those perfectly posed friend-group shots that always ended up on Instagram—and she gave him this little wave that said "sorry, you know how it is" and he nodded back like he totally did understand, which he didn't, not at all.

Marcus ended up in the shallow end, sitting on the steps with water up to his waist, watching everyone else live their best lives. His phone buzzed—a text from his actual friends wanting to play Overwatch. He stared at it for a second, then typed back: "Can't. At Chad's party. It's... fine."

The water felt weirdly good, actually. Calm. Not drowning. Just existing.

"Earth to Marcus!" It was Jasmine again, standing above him with this weirdly hopeful expression. "We're doing a padel tournament tomorrow at my club. You should come. Like, actually."

Marcus blinked water out of his eyes. "For real?"

"For real." She grinned. "Don't make me regret this."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, and as she walked away, Marcus sank deeper into the water, smiling like an idiot.

Maybe high school wasn't so different from the pool after all. You just had to find the right depth to stand in.