Goldfish in the Deep End

Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could practically fill a kiddie pool. She clutched her phone against her chest like it was the last life raft on the Titanic, watching from the patio sliding doors as Tyler's pool party raged without her.

"You coming in or what?" Tyler appeared behind her, dripping wet, that annoyingly effortless grin on his face. The baseball cap turned backwards on his head should've looked ridiculous, but somehow he made it work.

"I'm good," Maya lied. Her voice cracked.

A year ago, she'd won a goldfish at the spring fair, named it Neptune, and watched it die three days later. That pretty much summed up her relationship with social situations — enthusiastic start, tragic ending.

Her old teddy bear, Mr. Whiskers, was still sitting on her bed at home. She'd promised herself she'd stop sleeping with it freshman year, but some habits were harder to break than others. At least Mr. Whiskers never asked her why she was being weird.

"Yo, Earth to Maya." Tyler snapped his fingers. "We're doing chicken fights. Jake needs a partner."

Jake. The guy she'd been lowkey obsessed with since September.

Before she could overthink it into oblivion, Maya blurted, "Fine. But if I drown, delete my browser history."

Tyler's laugh caught her off guard — genuine, not mean. "Deal."

The water hit her like shock therapy. Cold everywhere at once. But Jake's hands were warm on her shoulders, steady. "You good?" he asked, and something in his voice made her believe he actually wanted to know.

"Yeah," Maya said, and realized it wasn't a total lie. "I'm good."

When they won — actually won — and Jake high-fived her like she was part of something real, Maya understood something Mr. Whiskers could've told her years ago: she'd been the one holding herself underwater the whole time.

Her phone buzzed in her discarded towel pile. She'd check it later. Maybe.