Fox in the Deep End

The pool party at Jessica's was supposed to be lowkey, but my brain was doing backflips. I stood by the snack table, nursing a flat soda, watching everyone else look effortless in their swimsuits while I felt like a glitching NPC who forgot their dialogue lines.

Then Fox showed up.

Fox wasn't his actual name—that was Tyler—but everyone called him that because of his wild copper hair and his reputation for being impossible to catch. He'd transferred to our school three weeks ago and already had a whole mythology around him. Rumor was he'd gotten expelled from his last school for something legendary, though nobody agreed on what.

He cannonballed into the pool, creating a splash that d half the people screaming. "What's UP, my little guppies!" he yelled, surfacing with that grin that made you want to both trust him and hide your wallet.

My best friend Maya elbowed me. "He's swimming right at you. Breathe, Skylar."

Fox pulled himself out of the pool right next to where I was standing, water dripping everywhere. "Yo, you gonna join us or what?"

"I'm good," I said, my voice doing that cracking thing it sometimes did when I was nervous. " forgot my suit."

"Borrow one of Jessica's extras," he said, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. "Unless you're scared I'll beat you in a race."

"I don't even know you," I blurted.

Fox's grin widened. "Exactly. So you've got nothing to lose. C'mon.

"The pool was chaos—splash fights, chicken fights, people trying to drown each other with affection. I jumped in anyway.

Something about being underwater changed everything. The noise muffled. The expectations dissolved. When I surfaced, Fox was already there, treading water like it was nothing.

"You know what they say about goldfish," he said out of nowhere.

"That they have three-second memories?"

"That's a myth," he said. "But imagine if it were true. Like, every moment would be brand new. No overthinking. No second-guessing. Just... now."

He splashed water in my face and swam away laughing.

I wiped my eyes and realized something: I was smiling. Actually, genuinely smiling, not the performant thing I'd been doing all year to keep people from worrying.

Maya later told me Fox had gotten expelled for hacking his school's grading system to change everyone's failing grades to passing ones. "He's chaotic good," she said.

"I think I needed that," I admitted.

The night didn't fix everything—I still had anxiety, still overthought every social interaction. But for the first time in forever, I'd jumped in instead of standing on the edge watching. And sometimes that's enough.

Fox transferred again two months later. But the goldfish thing stuck with me: some moments you just have to dive into, no overthinking required.