Green Teeth & Deep Ends

Maya's iPhone buzzed with another pool party invite. The notification glowed against her locked screen like a challenge she'd been avoiding all summer.

"You going?" asked Riley, tapping away on her own phone as they sat on Maya's front porch. Buster, Maya's golden retriever, rested his heavy head on her knee.

"I don't know." Maya scratched behind Buster's ears. "Everyone's gonna be swimming and acting like it's no big deal. Meanwhile, I sink like a stone in the shallow end."

Riley laughed. "So what? We're fifteen, not trying out for the Olympics. Besides, Jake's gonna be there."

Jake, who'd finally noticed Maya after last week's baseball game when she'd actually caught a foul ball (pure luck, but still). Jake, who probably swam like a dolphin and had perfect teeth and definitely didn't panic in water deeper than his chest.

The pool party was exactly as Maya had dreaded. Everyone splashed and laughed while she hovered by the snacks table, clutching a paper plate like a shield. She'd piled it with spinach dip and crackers — nervous eating, her mom called it.

"Maya!" Jake waved from the pool's edge. Water droplets clung to his shoulders. "Get in here!"

"Maybe later!"

"Come on, don't be a wimp."

Something in her snapped. Maybe it was the word "wimp," or the way everyone was watching, or how tired she was of standing on the sidelines of her own life. She handed her plate to Riley and walked toward the pool.

Buster, who'd somehow escaped the backyard and followed her here, chose that moment to streak through the gate and leap joyfully into the water. Chaos erupted — screaming, laughing, splashing. A wave hit Maya, knocking her backward into the deep end.

She went under. The world went muffled and blue-green. Panic flared. But then hands grabbed her shirt, pulled her up.

She surfaced gasping, water streaming from her hair. Jake was grinning at her, his arm wrapped around Buster's wet, shaking form.

"Your dog's crazy," he said. "Also, you have spinach in your teeth."

Maya dissolved into laughter, so hard she nearly went under again. Some girls took a photo on someone's iPhone — Maya, soaked and grinning, Jake holding onto her dog, green specks between her teeth like she didn't even care.

Later, as the sun set and the pool lights flickered on, Maya floated on her back for the first time, looking up at the first stars. Riley sat on the edge, feet in the water.

"You okay?" Riley asked.

Maya exhaled, letting herself really float. "Yeah. Actually, I am."

Her phone buzzed somewhere on dry land. She ignored it. Some things were better than screens and notifications. Some things — like floating, and friends who knew when to stay quiet, and dogs who saved you from drowning in your own anxiety — were real.