Goldfish & the Deep End

The carnival goldfish lived in a bowl on my nightstand, a reminder of the worst night of my life. My mom called it Goldie. I called it Simon, because even then I had a thing for dramatic names.

"You're not actually going through with this, right?" Maya asked, sprawled across my bed while I attempted to straighten my hair for the millionth time. "Jordan's parties are literally always awkward."

"I have to," I said. "If I don't go now, after avoiding it all summer, everyone'll think I'm scared." I paused. "I AM scared, but they can't KNOW that."

The problem wasn't parties. The problem was Jordan had a pool. And I, a seventeen-year-old girl, didn't know how to swim.

"It's fine," Maya said, already on her phone. "Just say you're on your period or something. Guys never question that."

"I've used that excuse like four times this month." I straightened a particularly stubborn piece of hair. "I'm just gonna... I don't know, stand near the snacks and look mysterious."

"You? Mysterious?" Maya snorted. "You once accidentally told your crush you liked his shoelaces in front of everyone."

"That was EIGHTH GRADE, Maya. People change."

But standing by Jordan's pool two hours later, watching everyone splash around like they'd been doing it their whole lives (which, okay, most of them probably had), I felt exactly like that eighth grader again. Even Simon the goldfish had more confidence than me, and he lived in a bowl.

Then I saw Tyler—my Tyler, the one I'd been crushing on for MONTHS—sitting alone on the pool edge, just watching everyone too. Not swimming. Just sitting there in his swim trunks, looking as out of place as I felt.

I walked over, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing. "Not swimming?"

He looked up, surprised. "Oh. Hey. Nah, I..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I never really learned. My parents tried when I was little, but I had this, like, panic thing in the water, and then we just... never tried again?" He laughed awkwardly. "It's embarrassing, honestly."

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "I mean, I don't know how either."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really. I've been faking it all summer." I sat down next to him. "I literally almost drowned at the Y when I was seven, and I've been traumatized ever since."

"Traumatized," he repeated, grinning. "That's a strong word."

"IT WAS TRAUMATIZING. The instructor literally had to PULL me out while I was flailing everywhere like a—like a—"

"Like a drowning person?" he suggested.

"Like a BEAR, okay? A bear that didn't know how to be a bear properly. Just flailing around all confused."

Tyler laughed, and I felt something in my chest loosen. We sat there for twenty minutes, watching our classmates splash and scream, making fun of everyone's terrible form and judging people's dive technique with zero expertise. It was easy. It was comfortable.

"Hey," he said suddenly. "You want to, like, learn together? I mean, NOT tonight obviously—"

"Yes," I said, before I could overthink it. "Yes, I would love that."

His phone buzzed. "Cool. Cool, cool." He stood up. "I, uh, I should probably go though. My ride's here. But I'll text you? About the swimming thing?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to smile too hard. "Text me."

When I got home, Simon was doing laps around his bowl like he owned the place. I dropped a fish flake in and watched him rise to the surface, unafraid, completely himself.

"You know what?" I whispered to him. "I think I'm gonna be okay."

My phone buzzed. A text from Tyler: same number I'd been nervously saving in my contacts for months.

maybe tomorrow? 4pm at the community pool?

I didn't even hesitate before typing back.

it's a date.

Then I deleted it immediately and replaced it with: sounds good :)

Some risks were worth taking. Others you worked up to slowly. And that was okay too.