Goldfish Memory at the Pool

The worst thing about turning fifteen? Your brain decides to delete everything that matters but keep every embarrassing moment in 4K resolution.

Standing at the edge of Jenna's pool, I'm mentally replaying last week's PE disaster. We were playing padel, and I somehow managed to hit myself in the forehead with my own racket. Connor videoed it. It's already on his TikTok. #ThatAwkwardMoment indeed.

"You coming in or what?" yells Tyler, doing a cannonball that soaks my towel.

I freeze. Swimming has never been my thing. Last summer, I took lessons with this instructor who kept saying "Just relax, it's natural!" Meanwhile, I'm splashing around like I'm fighting invisible sharks while her golden retriever, Buster, sat on the pool deck barking at me like I was a disgrace to canines everywhere. That dog judged me harder than my math teacher.

Now everyone's watching. Even worse, Jenna's watching. She's wearing this cute bikini and eating papaya like it's totally normal fruit and not something that looks like alien food.

"I'm good," I say, but my voice cracks. Smooth.

My phone buzzes. Mom. I forgot to feed the goldfish again. It's probably fine, I tell myself. Those things live for like five years, right? Except I also forgot to feed it last week. And the week before. At this point, that goldfish is operating on pure spite and resentment.

"Come on!" Jenna swims over to the edge. Water droplets glisten on her arms. "The water's perfect."

This is it. The moment. Either I jump in and possibly humiliate myself, or I stay dry and definitely become the weirdo who wouldn't swim at a pool party.

I take a deep breath and jump.

Water rushes over me. For a second, I panic, arms flailing. Then I kick off the bottom and surface, spluttering. Everyone's laughing, but not in a mean way. Tyler high-fives me. Jenna grins.

"Finally!" she says. "Want some papaya? It's actually good."

I take a bite. It's sweet and weird and nothing like I expected. Sort of like being fifteen, actually.

"Not bad," I say.

"Told you," Jenna says, and something in her smile makes me think maybe, just maybe, my brain won't delete this moment.