Fox at the Deep End

Maya stood at the edge of the Johnsons' pool, clutching her vitamin D bottle like it was some kind of lifeline. Which, technically, it was — her mom had been on her case all summer about her "deficiency" and how she needed to get more sun, but here she was, fully clothed, watching everyone else live their best life.

"You coming in or what?" Fox called from the deep end. Fox — real name Jackson, but nobody actually called him that anymore — had earned the nickname back in seventh grade when he'd somehow talked his way out of detention by convincing the principal he'd been "conducting important research" by releasing three captured mice in the cafeteria.

The water looked way too inviting, and Maya was dying, metaphorically speaking. Literally, she was just standing there like a loser while everyone else played chicken and splashed around like they were in a music video.

"I'm good!" Maya shouted back, even though she was absolutely not good. She was the opposite of good. She was terrible.

Her phone buzzed. Mom: Did you take your vitamins??

Maya groaned and stuffed her phone deeper into her pocket. Why was her life like this?

Then she saw it — a flash of orange near the pool's edge. A goldfish, flopping around on the concrete, somehow having made the great escape from the decorative pond on the other side of the yard.

Before she could think about it, Maya scooped up the goldfish in her hands and made a run for the pond. But in her haste, she slipped on wet tile and went flying — goldfish, vitamins, dignity, all of it airborne for one spectacular second before she crashed into the pool fully clothed.

Complete. Social. Suicide.

She surfaced, spluttering, expecting everyone to laugh. Instead, Fox was already there, helping her up, while someone else — was that Chloe, the actual queen of everything? — was gently returning the goldfish to its pond.

"That was actually kind of epic," Fox said, grinning. "You literally saved a life while falling into a pool. That's multitasking."

Maya's soaked jeans were heavy, her hair was a disaster, and somewhere at the bottom of the pool, her vitamins were dissolving. But as Fox offered her his hand to help her out of the water, she realized something.

Maybe she didn't have to be the kind of person who stood at the edge, watching everyone else live. Maybe she could just jump in, make a mess of it, and — if she was lucky — actually make some friends along the way.

"So," Fox said, "you gonna tell me your name, hero, or am I gonna have to guess?"

"Maya," she said, and for the first time all summer, she didn't feel like apologizing for existing.