Screen Deep

Kayla hadn't touched the water in three years. Not since she'd posted that photo of herself in a bikini with the caption "living my best life" and some random from her school commented "thick thighs save lives but damn those are tree trunks lmaooo." She'd deleted the post immediately, but the comment lived rent-free in her head, mocking her every time she passed a pool or beach.

Now here she was at Tyler's end-of-summer party, clutching her iPhone like a lifeline, watching everyone else cannonball into the deep end. The phone buzzed constantly — Snap after Snap, Kayla watching from the sidelines like she always did now. Documenting everything, experiencing nothing.

"You gonna take a dip or just freeze to death standing there?"

Kayla jumped. It was Maya, the girl from her history class who always sat in the back and drew cartoons in her notebook. Maya was already wet, hair plastered to her face, grinning like this was the best thing ever.

"I'm good," Kayla said, thumbing her phone screen. "Someone's gotta document the vibe, right?"

Maya rolled her eyes. "Girl, you're sixteen. You're not the event photographer. Come swimming."

"I don't swim."

"Everyone swims."

"Not everyone."

Maya studied her for a second, then climbed out of the pool, water streaming off her like she was part mermaid. She held out her hand. "Let me see your phone."

"What? No."

"Just give it." Kayla hesitated, then handed it over. Maya placed it on a dry towel, then grabbed Kayla's hand, turned it palm-up. "Okay, so. This line means you're overthinking it. This one means you care way too much what people think. And this tiny wrinkle here means you're about to do something brave."

Kayla laughed despite herself. "You don't know how to read palms."

"Clearly." Maya squeezed her hand. "But I know you're standing at a pool party in August watching other people live while you're busy —" she gestured at the phone "—curating a life you're not even in. That's actual tragic energy."

The water lapped at the pool edges, blue and inviting. Kayla's heart hammered.

"I might drown," she whispered.

"I won't let you." Maya didn't let go of her hand. "I'll teach you. It's literally just moving your arms and legs and not dying."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is." Maya stepped closer. "Three years is a long time to carry something that heavy, Kayla. Put it down."

Kayla looked at Maya, then at her phone on the towel, then at the water shimmering under the fairy lights. She thought about comments and likes and validation through screens, and then she thought about how cold the water would feel, how real, how alive.

She squeezed Maya's hand back. "Okay. But if I sink, you're going down with me."

Maya's grin was brighter than anything on Kayla's screen. "Deal."