Goldfish Summer

The **baseball** team ruled our school's social hierarchy like they owned the place. Jackson Reed—shortstop, jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and currently occupying my every waking thought—sat at their designated table. I was nowhere near that table. I was busy shoving myself into a Speedo that was definitely two sizes too small for my first day as a lifeguard at the community pool.

My little brother had started taking these chewy **vitamin** gummies that smelled like fake strawberries and made him hyper. He was currently terrorizing the living room with his nerf gun while I tried to mentally prepare for three months of screaming children and old ladies doing water aerobics to ABBA.

The first week was fine. Until That Friday.

Jackson Reed showed up with his friends, looking like they'd walked out of a TikTok thirst trap. My stomach did something concerning. I was sitting in the guard chair, trying to look professional and not like I was panicking internally.

"Hey lifeguard," Jackson called, climbing out of the pool. Water dripped down his—ANYWAY. "My friend's choking."

I jumped down, CPR training flooding back. "Who? Where?"

"Him." Jackson pointed at his friend, who was laughing while shoving a whole slice of **papaya** into his mouth. Someone had brought this weird fruit platter from their mom's health kick, and apparently the white boys of the varsity baseball team were doing a challenge.

"Bro, this is disgusting," his friend said, spitting it out. Everyone laughed.

I stood there like an actual **goldfish**—mouth opening and closing, saying absolutely nothing while my face burned. They'd made me look like an idiot in front of the entire pool, including my coworker Maya, who was definitely watching this go down with zero sympathy.

"Chill," Jackson said, like I was being dramatic. "It's a joke."

Whatever. I climbed back into my chair and pretended to scan the pool like someone's life depended on it.

Later that night, Maya texted me: "u okay? that was weird"

"yeah whatever"

"u should've said something"

"LIKE WHAT"

"idk. anything. u just stood there"

She was right. I'd frozen. Again. That was my thing—standing on the edge of things, watching everyone else actually **swimming** while I dipped my toes in and worried about the temperature. But Jackson Reed wasn't gonna be the thing that kept me stuck on dry land.

Next time he showed up, I was ready.

"Hey lifeguard," he started.

"Pool's closed for cleaning," I said, not even looking up from my phone. "Come back in an hour."

He paused. "...Seriously?"

"Dead serious. Chemical imbalance." I looked at him. "Health code."

His friends exchanged looks. Whatever hierarchy they had going on, I wasn't part of it, and that was kind of the point.

They left. Maya high-fived me when our shift ended.

"What did you actually do?" she asked.

"Nothing. I just didn't let them make me feel small."

She nodded. "Good. Also, Jackson left his hoodie."

We both looked at it draped over the chair.

"Burn it?" I suggested.

"Absolutely."