Poolside Sphinx

The swim team locker room smelled like chlorine and cheap body spray, which was basically the official scent of my entire sophomore year. I was tying my goggles when Brock—he of the massive shoulders and zero impulse control—decided to make me his personal entertainment.

"Yo, Fish Face," Brock announced to everyone within earshot. "Bet I can hold my breath longer than you. Again."

The whole varsity team laughed. This was my life now. Every day at practice, Brock found new ways to remind me that I was the slowest guy on the team, the one who barely made JV cut-offs, the easy target. He was like a shark that had decided I was delicious.

"Not today, bull," I muttered, grabbing my towel.

"What'd you call me?" Brock stepped closer.

"I said not today." The voice came from the corner of the locker room.

We all turned. It was Maya, the new diver who'd transferred in three weeks ago. She sat on the bench, perfectly still, watching us with these dark eyes that seemed to see everything. She never spoke at practice. Never hung out with anyone. Just dove and disappeared.

She was basically a sphinx—impossible to read, full of secrets.

"Leave him alone," Maya said, still calm. "Or I'm telling Coach Miller you were smoking behind the bleachers yesterday."

Brock's face went pale. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The whole room went silent. Brock backed down, grabbed his gear, and stormed out. His minions followed.

Maya stood up and walked over to me. "You're welcome."

"How did you know about the smoking?" I asked.

She smiled slightly. "I notice things. Also, Brock's an idiot. He posts everything on his finsta, then forgets he added me."

"Why'd you help me?"

"Because you're the only one who didn't stare when I first showed up," she said. "Also, your flip turns are actually getting better. You just need to work on your breathing rhythm."

She knew my name. She'd been watching me swim.

"Want some pointers after practice?" Maya asked. "I used to swim before I switched to diving."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. But you have to promise not to ask me about my old school. That's classified information."

"Deal."

"Good. Now hurry up, we're gonna be late." She paused at the door. "Oh, and Fish Face? Definitely better than what Brock calls you. But we can work on your nickname game too."

I grinned and grabbed my bag. For the first time all year, I couldn't wait to get swimming.