Poolside Panic Attack

The chlorine smell hit me before I even saw the pool. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone.

"You good, bro?" Tyler asked, bumping my shoulder.

"Yeah. Just... nervous." I ran my hand through my hair. The stylist had fucked it up—cropped weirdly short on the sides, way too long on top. I looked like I'd let a drunk toddler attack me with craft scissors.

The pool party at Jake's house was already popping. At least fifty people from school, all in various states of undress, music thumping from portable speakers. Girls in bikinis that cost more than my entire wardrobe. Guys showing off, doing cannonballs and flexing.

Then I saw him. Brent. The absolute unit who'd been tormenting me since seventh grade gym class when he pants'd me in front of everyone. The bull of sophomore year, still pumping iron and still finding new ways to make my life miserable.

He was posted up by the pool table, shirt off, muscles rippling like he was made of liquid testosterone. surrounded by his lacrosse buddies.

I turned to leave. "Actually, I think I left my—"

"Yo! Marcus!" Jake waved from the pool edge. "Get in here!"

Everyone looked. Including Brent.

"That him?" I heard someone ask.

"Yeah," Brent laughed. "That's the kid who cries when someone looks at him wrong."

My face burned. I could just walk away. Let them laugh. But then I thought about my dad's voice: Sometimes you gotta grab life by the horns, son. Even when it's a fucking bull.

I yanked my shirt off, revealing my scrawny pale chest. Not exactly flex material, but whatever.

"Last one in's a rotten egg!" I sprinted toward the pool and launched myself into a cannonball that would have made my grandma proud.

The explosion of water hit Brent square in the face.

When I surfaced, sputtering and wiping my eyes, the whole pool area was silent. Then Jake started cracking up. Then everyone else. Even Brent, wiping water from his face, had to chuckle.

"Alright, Marcus," he said, shaking his head. "I see you."

I floated there, hair plastered to my forehead, feeling lighter than I had in months. Sometimes you just gotta jump in the deep end.