Running Before Drowning

The neon orange snapback sat low on my forehead, blocking everyone's view of everything I didn't want them to see. Which was basically my entire face.

"You coming to Jessica's pool party or what?" Tyler asked, dangling the invitation like it was gold-plated.

"Nah," I said, already turning away. "Got stuff."

"You always got stuff, Marcus."

He wasn't wrong. But he didn't know that 'stuff' translated to: I can't swim without looking like a drowning squirrel, and last summer's pool party incident still haunted my dreams.

Running was my thing. Not away—well, sometimes away—but mostly toward. Track practice was the only place my brain shut up. But today, even that wasn't working. I was three miles in, sweat dripping down my neck, still thinking about chlorine and how small I'd felt.

Then Buster—my mom's golden retriever, who I was supposedly watching—burst through the backyard fence.

"Buster! NO!"

He was running full tilt toward Jessica's house. Because OF COURSE he was.

I tore after him, hat flying off somewhere behind me because sprinting with headwear is for people who don't care about aerodynamics or dignity. Buster crashed through Jessica's gate like he owned the place, splashing directly into the pool with a joyous bark that screamed THIS IS MY MOMENT NOW.

I skidded to a stop at the edge, chest heaving, prepared to die of embarrassment.

Everyone stared. Jessica. Tyler. Half the sophomore class.

"Marcus?" Jessica called from the deep end. "You okay?"

Buster was paddling around like he'd invented water, completely unbothered. And then—because the universe loves me—an orange floatie drifted past him like a tiny tragic boat.

Someone giggled. Then someone else.

Then Tyler yelled, "FINALLY got you to a pool party!" and did a cannonball that splashed half the party.

"You want a soda?" Jessica asked, paddling over. "We've got regular or this weird orange cream stuff that's actually kind of amazing."

I looked at Buster, living his best life. Looked at the orange floatie bobbing near him like it was waiting for a companion. Looked at Jessica, who wasn't laughing at all.

"Yeah," I said, stepping onto the first step. "Yeah, I'll try the orange stuff."

Buster swam over and nudged my hand like thanks for the adventure, bro.

Sometimes you run toward things. Sometimes you run away. And sometimes a dog makes the decision for you, and you end up in a pool anyway, wearing someone else's sunscreen and drinking orange cream soda that IS actually kind of amazing.