Poolside Truths

The humidity at Johnson Creek was hitting different that July. Maya lay on a towel while I scrolled through my phone, our friendship stretched thin as last summer's bikini strings.

"You gonna swim or just TikTok all day?" Maya asked, not looking up from her magazine. She'd been weird since graduation, like she was already mentally college-ing while I was stuck in summer mode.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, though my data plan was barely loading. The park's wifi was practically dial-up speed. "Seriously, who even uses public wifi anymore? My cable internet at home would've loaded this video three times by now."

Maya snorted. "Only you would complain about wifi at a swim park, Sarah."

She stood up, her rainbow bikini catching sunlight. We'd been best friend since seventh grade, but something had shifted. Maybe it was me choosing community college while she headed to State. Maybe it was her new "college friends" who'd been blowing up her phone all summer.

The mechanical bull ride near the concession stand caught my attention. Some drunk frat guy was getting bucked off while his friends filmed it. Total fail content.

"That's gonna be you tonight," Maya pointed at the bull. "At Jackson's party."

"No bull," I said. "I'm not getting on that death machine."

"You never do anything fun anymore," she snapped, then immediately looked guilty. "I mean—"

"Ouch?" I raised an eyebrow. "Real supportive, May."

"Sorry. It's just—" She sighed, flopping back on her towel. "Everyone's changing. Including us."

The truth hung between us like humidity. We were swimming in different directions now. She wanted to dive into college life headfirst. I was still testing the waters, scared of the deep end.

"We don't have to change," I said quietly. "We can still be—"

"Friends?" She gave me that look, the one that said she saw right through my BS. "But we ARE changing, Sarah. That's not bad. It's just... growing up."

She was right. As usual. Friend wasn't about staying the same together. It was about riding the waves, even when they pulled you in different directions.

I stood up and headed toward the pool. "Race you to the diving board?"

Maya's grin returned, genuine as ever. "You're on. Loser pays for snow cones."

"You're gonna lose," I called back, already running.

And maybe, just maybe, we'd be okay after all. No bull, no BS, just us figuring it out, one stroke at a time.