How Not to Drown

Maya stood at the edge of the padel court, gripping the rental racquet like it might save her from impending doom. The summer party hummed around her—people she'd known since kindergarten, suddenly transformed into strangers with better skin and more confidence.

Her golden retriever, Buster, lay panting near the fence, tongue lolling, completely unaware that his presence was officially cringe.

"Maya! You coming?" called Lucas from across the court. Lucas, whose hair fell perfectly even in humidity. Lucas, who'd grown six inches over the summer and now looked like someone who should be in a cologne commercial.

She swallowed. "Yeah. Just—stretching."

This was a lie. She wasn't stretching. She was having an out-of-body experience where she watched herself voluntarily agree to play padel—a sport she didn't know existed until twenty minutes ago—in front of everyone.

"Need a partner?" Fox slid onto the court beside her. Maya's older sister's best friend, two years older, wearing cropped everything and an expression that said she was bored before the game even started. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Maya said, way too fast.

Fox's nickname came from her hair—rust-colored and sharp—and her ability to slip out of any situation she didn't want to be in. Maya had been swimming in admiration for her since middle school, back when Maya was still wearing graphic tees from cartoons she didn't even watch anymore and Fox was already drinking coffee black like it was nothing.

"Then let's crush them." Fox winked.

The game was a disaster. Maya swung at the ball and missed. She swung again and hit the fence. A small child watching from the sidelines laughed.

But then—miracle of miracles—Fox set up a perfect shot. The ball came sailing toward Maya, slow and sweet, and her body did something it hadn't done all day: it cooperated. She connected. The ball sailed over the net, landing right in the corner.

"YEAH!" Fox high-fived her, palm slap stinging. "See? You're not hopeless."

At that exact moment, Buster spotted a squirrel near the courts. The good boy who'd been lying so patiently became a golden blur, knocking over a water cooler and sending plastic cups flying in every direction.

"DOG!" someone screamed.

Maya's face burned. She was swimming in it now—fully submerged in the deep end of embarrassment. She started toward Buster, but Fox was already there, grabbing his collar with practiced ease.

"Good boy," Fox said, scratching behind his ears like nothing was wrong. "Just saving us from a squirrel invasion, right?"

Buster's tail thumped. The tension on the court dissolved into laughter. Even Lucas was smiling.

After the game—Fox and Maya lost, but not by much—they sat on the grass near the fence. Buster curled into Maya's side, completely over his squirrel chase.

"You okay?" Fox asked. "You looked like you were gonna puke before we started."

Maya laughed. "I felt like I was gonna puke."

"You did good." Fox bumped her shoulder against Maya's. "Hey, a bunch of us are going swimming at the lake tomorrow. You should come."

The offer hung there, casual and light. But it felt heavy. Important.

"Yeah," Maya said, and meant it. "I'd like that."

As she watched Fox walk away, Buster lifted his head and let out a happy bark. Maya buried her face in his fur, grinning like an idiot. The summer was just getting started.