Poolside Panic

The day of the regional swim meet, I woke up looking like I'd lost a fight with a lawnmower. My hair, supposed to be perfectly gelled for my big moment, stood up in seventeen different directions thanks to my little brother's prank with my mom's expensive hairspray.

"You look like a crazy bear," Maya snorted when she picked me up, but she was grinning. Maya with her chlorine-and-vanilla shampoo smell, Maya with the cute dimple that made my stomach do actual flips. I'd been crushing on her since seventh grade, and today—today I was finally going to tell her after my 100-meter freestyle.

The pool deck smelled like metallic chlorine and teen anxiety. Miller, the senior team captain who'd been riding my case all season, shouldered past me. "Don't embarrass us out there, freshman." Classic Miller. The biggest bull on the team, always targeting newbies.

My mom pressed something into my hand at the concession stand. "Here, take this vitamin. Your dad says it helps with energy." I swallowed it dry without checking, because that's what you do when your mom is being your mom and you're trying to look cool in front of Maya.

Ten minutes later, standing on the starting block, everything changed. My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my chest. My vision swam. The water below me rippled like liquid sapphire.

"Your turn!" the coach yelled.

I dove in. But somewhere between surface and underwater, my brain short-circuited. Instead of powering through the water, I somehow forgot how to swim. I flailed. I sputtered. I inhaled half the pool. I clawed my way to the lane rope like a panicked cat, while the WHOLE team watched. Miller was doubled over laughing so hard he was crying.

"You okay?" Maya pulled me out of the water, actually concerned, not mocking. Her wet hand on my shoulder made me forget the mortification for approximately three seconds.

"My mom gave me this vitamin," I wheezed, pulling the bottle from my bag. "I think it hit me weird—"

Maya read the label and burst out laughing. "Dude, these are your dad's focus supplements for night shifts. They're like, triple strength."

But then she added, "You know what?" pulling a hair tie from her wrist. "Let me fix your hair. And Miller's a jerk who peaked in middle school anyway. Want to get pizza after?"

Sometimes your worst moments become your best ones. My hair was a disaster, I'd humiliated myself in front of everyone, and I'd accidentally drugged myself with my dad's work vitamins. But Maya thought I was funny, and she wanted to get pizza.

Sometimes that's enough.