Liabilities & Lifeguards

Maya's palms were sweating, which was honestly embarrassing for someone who supposedly swam varsity back in Jersey. The whole thing was pure bull, and now she was paying the price at Tyler Henderson's pool party.

"You coming in or what?" Tyler called, grinning from the diving board. His toothpaste-commercial smile made half the girls at Northwood swoon. Maya just wanted to disappear.

"Yeah, just warming up," she called back, her voice cracking slightly. The water shimmered blue and impossibly deep beneath the board. She'd told everyone she was a competitive swimmer when she transferred schools last month. Easy way to seem cool, right? Nobody actually asked to see her race.

Until now.

Katie, Tyler's on-again-off-again girlfriend, paddled over to the pool's edge. "So what's your best stroke? Butterfly? I heard you're insane at butterfly."

Maya's brain short-circuited. She didn't even know what butterfly looked like.

"I'm... actually more of a distance swimmer," Maya improvised, stalling. "Long and steady. You know?"

Katie raised one perfectly waxed eyebrow. "Weird. Tyler said you told him you were a sprinter."

Behind her, someone shouted: "Truth or dare! Maya's up!"

Twenty faces turned toward her. Tyler did a cannonball off the board, sending a wave of chlorinated water splashing over the deck. Maya stared at the pool, her heart hammering. She could fake an illness. She could grab her phone and pretend her mom was calling. Or she could finally admit that she'd moved around six times in four years and lying about being cool was easier than being the new girl. Again.

The truth settled in her chest like a stone.

"Actually," Maya said, her voice surprisingly steady. "I can't really swim. At all. The whole thing was... I don't know. I just wanted to fit in."

Silence. Then Tyler surfaced, slicking his wet hair back. "Yo, that's it? I thought you were gonna say something bad. My cousin can't swim either. We'll teach you."

"Really?"

"Duh," Katie said. "Pass me your phone. I'm not letting it get wet."

Maya slipped off her flip-flops, her palms finally dry, and stepped toward the shallow end. Maybe fitting in wasn't about being impressive. Maybe it was about being real.