Seven Second Summers

The chlorine smell hit me before I even saw the pool. Another Saturday at the rec center, another day of pretending I wasn't completely out of my depth socially.

Then I saw her.

Maya was by the deep end, laughing at something Tyler's older brother said. Tyler was doing that thing where he talked about his "epic" college parties like anyone actually believed him. Total bull, but everyone nodded along because he had a car and could buy us snacks from the vending machine.

"Yo Marcus, you gonna swim or just stand there looking like a lost goldfish?" That was Jamal, my best friend since third grade, already doing laps in lane three.

I flipped him off but jumped in anyway. The cool water washed away the awkwardness of standing by the edge in my too-long board shorts. Swimming was the one place where overthinking didn't matter—just stroke, breathe, repeat. No social codes to crack, no one to impress.

Underwater, everything muffled into this perfect blue silence. Like how goldfish must feel in their bowls, just existing without the constant pressure of being cool or smart or whatever else we were supposed to be at fifteen.

I surfaced and Maya was actually looking at me.

"Not bad," she said.

My brain short-circuited. Was that good? Was that the kind of compliment you gave your cousin's dog? I opened my mouth to say something chill, something smooth—

"Marcus has been swimming since he was like six," Jamal volunteered from the other lane.

Nice save. Kind of.

Tyler's brother snorted. "Cool story, bro. Anyway, so I was at this party—"

"Bro," I said, without even thinking. "You said you were at a party last weekend. And the weekend before. You're fifteen. You're not going to college parties. That's actual bull."

Silence. The kind of heavy silence where you can hear the water lapping against the pool edges.

Maya started laughing. Then Jamal. Then even Tyler cracked up.

"Finally," Maya said, splashing water at me. "Someone said it."

I floated on my back, staring at the ceiling, thinking maybe this wouldn't be so terrible after all. Maybe growing up wasn't about becoming someone else. Maybe it was about getting comfortable with calling bull when you saw it.

My seven-second memory could wait. I was busy actually living.