Green Smoothies & Ghosts

The smoothie sat on the kitchen counter like a toxic puddle from a nuclear swamp. Maya's mom had gone through a wellness phase, which meant Maya's breakfast now consisted of spinach, something green and questionable, and the crushing weight of her mother's Instagram wellness influencer phase.

"It's full of iron!" her mom chirped, already dressed for her sunrise Pilates class. "You'll thank me when you're acing finals and glowing."

Maya dumped it down the sink and grabbed a Pop-Tart instead. Some betrayals were necessary.

Her phone buzzed. Track group chat: *practice cancelled. Coach's kid has the flu. Everyone free?*

Her thumbs hovered. Jordan would be there. Jordan, who had somehow made varsity as a freshman and whose laugh sounded like something you wanted to memorize.

*count me in,* she typed, then immediately added: *if we're doing intervals, i'm bringing my bad vibes.*

The team met at the creek instead of the track. Someone had brought Bluetooth speakers. Someone else had brought store-bought cookies that Maya definitely didn't eat three of.

They ended up at the old rope swing, the one that dangled over water deep enough to actually be scary.

"I'll go first," Jordan said, already climbing. "Watch this—"

"If you die, I'm telling everyone you failed Spanish," Maya called up.

Jordan's smirk was audible. "Sr. García loved me."

The swing dropped. Jordan hit the water with a splash that drenched everyone on the bank. When they surfaced, they were grinning like they'd just discovered something illegal.

"Your turn!"

Maya stared at the water. It looked dark and full of maybe-dead things and also, she'd never admit this, but she wasn't actually the greatest swimmer.

"You're not scared, are you?" Jordan teased, dripping on the grass. "The great Maya Torres, scared of a little water?"

"I'm not scared," Maya lied, because her whole life was basically a collection of lies she told to look cooler than she felt. "I'm just— assessing the structural integrity of the rope."

"Mmhmm." Jordan swam to the bank. "Hey. You know what my coach says?"

"Something inspirational about how pain is weakness leaving the body?"

"He says—" Jordan grabbed her hand, "—that you can't learn to run if you won't fall. And you can't learn to swim if you won't get wet."

Maya looked at Jordan's hand, warm and calloused and unfairly perfect. "That's the corniest thing I've ever heard."

"So is coming back for more tomorrow."

The swing dropped. The water rushed up. And maybe Maya screamed a little, and maybe she swallowed way too much creek water, and maybe Jordan laughed for a solid minute while she sputtered and tried to pretend she hadn't almost drowned in three feet of water.

But later, shivering in the sun while Jordan insisted on sharing a sweatshirt that smelled like lavender and everything Maya wasn't allowed to want, she caught Jordan watching her with something soft in their eyes.

"Hey," Jordan said quietly. "For what it's worth? You're getting better."

"At drowning?"

"At being brave."

Maya's phone buzzed again. Her mom: *did you drink your smoothie??*

She typed back: *yeah. it was great.*

Some lies were worth telling. Some truths were worth finding. And apparently, you could learn to run without falling, but learning to swim required getting wet. Good thing Maya had brought a towel.