Electric Blue Moments

The 5 AM swim practices had turned me into a certified zombie. I'd drag myself to the pool, eyes half-closed, clutching my mom's "miracle" vitamin D supplements she swore would fix my "adolescent gloom." Spoiler: they didn't. The only thing fixing my mood was the way the water felt at 5:15—that perfect, electric blue stillness before anyone else showed up.

Until last Thursday, when Sarah Chen actually showed up early.

Sarah, who TikToks her morning smoothie routine. Sarah, whose hair always looks somehow intentional even when wet. Sarah, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since freshman orientation, which was pathetic given we were both juniors now and I'd never managed more than a choked "hey" in the hallway.

"You're here early," she said, sitting at the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water.

I died inside. "Yeah, you too."

"Couldn't sleep," she said, which was weird because Sarah always seemed like the kind of person who slept perfectly, probably on a silk pillowcase. "My parents are fighting again."

The words hung between us like smoke. I froze, my brain scrambling for the right response—something cool, something empathetic, something that wouldn't make me sound like a complete loser.

"That sucks," I settled on, because apparently my vocabulary had abandoned me completely.

She laughed, but it was this different laugh than her usual one. Smaller. Real. "Yeah. Big time." She kicked her legs through the water, making little ripples. "I started coming early just to... I don't know. Have something that's mine?"

The lightning struck—not actual lightning, but that mental kind where something suddenly makes sense. Sarah Chen, perfect TikTok girl, was sneaking out of her house at dawn to sit alone at a pool because her life was falling apart. The same pool I'd been visiting because mine felt like it already had.

"I get that," I said, and this time the words didn't feel clumsy. "This pool time is like... the only hour that's actually mine."

She looked at me, really looked at me, and I saw something in her expression shift. Recognition. "Exactly."

We sat there for twenty minutes while the pool lights hummed above us, talking about everything and nothing. Her parents' divorce. My pressure to pick a college. How fake everything felt sometimes, but how this—this chlorine-smelling, predawn conversation—felt weirdly real.

When Coach Rodriguez's truck pulled into the parking lot, we both jumped like we'd been caught doing something illegal.

"Same time tomorrow?" Sarah asked, standing up and grabbing her towel.

"Yeah," I said, feeling something bright and terrifying bloom in my chest. "Same time."

Later that day, when I texted my friends about it, Maya responded: "so u finally talked to ur whale crush AND ur life is literally a YA novel?? iconic."

I laughed, setting down my mom's vitamins. Maybe tomorrow morning I'd actually take one.