Green Dreams

Maya stood at the edge of the pool, chlorine stinging her nose. The state finals were tomorrow, and her stomach was doing backflips.

"You gonna swim or just stare at the water all day?" Jordan called from the other lane, flipping her wet hair. Jordan, who'd been giving Maya crap all season for being the "new girl" from the wrong side of town.

"Whatever," Maya muttered, adjusting her goggles. Her brain was already spinning from dinner earlier—her dad's lecture about how swimming was a distraction from "real work." The same speech he'd given when she'd turned down helping with the family's prize-winning livestock at the county fair. Like she was supposed to care that their bull had taken first place.

Practice was brutal. Coach Martinez kept them doing laps until Maya's arms felt like jelly. Afterward, she slumped at a table outside the locker room, picking at a spinach smoothie she'd grabbed because her dad was always going on about how athletes needed their greens.

Jordan slid into the seat across from her. "That looks disgusting."

"It's actually—"

"Look," Jordan cut in, suddenly serious. "I know I've been giving you a hard time. But you're actually good. Like, really good." She fidgeted with her phone case. "My older sister swam for State. She said the most important thing isn't winning. It's showing up for yourself, even when everyone else thinks you should be doing something else."

Maya froze. Jordan's sister—the one whose medal was still in the trophy case.

"Yeah, well," Maya said, her voice thick. "My dad thinks this is a waste of time. He wanted me at the fair this weekend, helping with the animals instead of 'splashing around.'"

"So?" Jordan shrugged. "You're not him. You're the girl who's been crushing every practice since September. The one who's gonna kick butt tomorrow." She reached over and snagged Maya's smoothie, taking a gulp and grimacing. "Okay, that's actually nasty. But you're gonna do great anyway."

For the first time all season, Maya felt something shift. The weight in her chest lightened.

"Thanks, Jordan."

"Don't get used to it," Jordan called, already walking away. "I still expect you to embarrass yourself tomorrow."

Maya smiled, actually smiled. Her dad's voice echoed in her head—expectations and traditions—but for the first time, they felt distant. Muffled under the water, where everything made sense.

She took another sip of the disgusting smoothie and headed back to the pool. Tomorrow, she'd swim. For herself.