Shallow End Secrets

My palms were sweating so bad I could barely grip my phone. Pool party at Chloe's. The Chloe. Queen of sophomore year, owner of the actual inground pool, and somehow my lab partner who'd decided I was cool enough to make the cut.

"You coming or what?" Quinn asked, already halfway into his orange swim trunks. He'd been my friend since kindergarten, which meant he knew exactly how much I sucked at swimming. Also meant he wouldn't shut up about it.

"Dude, I'm not trying to drown at the first party of the season," I muttered, scrolling through TikTok to look busy. The orange juice carton on my nightstand caught my eye—staring at me like a judgmental fruit.

"Everyone's gonna be there. Even Jordan."

He didn't have to say more. Jordan had been sitting behind me in English since September, and I'd successfully said approximately twelve words to them, half of which were "sorry" when I accidentally knocked over their backpack. This was my chance. Or my chance to completely humiliate myself. Fifty-fifty.

Quinn threw a towel at my face. "I'll teach you. Again. Besides, nobody actually swims at these things. It's mostly just standing around looking aesthetic."

He wasn't wrong. When we got there, half the people were posing on the pool steps with their phones while some guy's playlist blasted from a Bluetooth speaker. Palm trees lined the fence—fake ones, obviously, because this was Ohio, but they gave the whole thing some surreal energy. Like we were in a music video instead of Chloe's backyard.

I survived twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes of fake-laughing at jokes I didn't hear and nodding along to conversations about people I didn't know. Then Jordan walked over.

"Hey," they said. "I like your swimsuit."

My brain short-circuited. "Thanks. It's from... Target."

Target? Really?

Jordan laughed, and it was genuine. "Mine too. High-end designer here." They gestured to their own suit, which was actually kind of perfect. "Wanna get in? The shallow end's not deep."

I looked at the water. Looked at Quinn, who was too busy flirting with some junior to notice I was about to make a decision. Looked at Jordan, who was waiting for me like this was normal, like I wasn't five seconds from panicking.

"Can't swim," I blurted. "Like, at all."

Jordan's eyebrows went up. "For real?"

"Yeah. It's embarrassing, I know—"

"That's actually kinda awesome," they said. "We can learn together. I suck too."

"Wait, what?"

"I've been faking it all year. Just standing in the shallow end looking aesthetic." Jordan gestured at everyone else. "Half these people are doing the same thing. We're all just pretending to know what we're doing."

Something in my chest loosened. All semester I'd been convinced everyone else had life figured out while I was barely keeping it together. Turns out we were all just treading water in different ways.

"Okay," I said. "But if I drown, you have to explain to my mom why her last good towel is at Chloe's."

"Deal." Jordan stepped into the pool, and I followed. The water came up to my chest—deep enough to feel real, shallow enough to feel safe. And somewhere behind us, Quinn gave me a thumbs-up without even turning around.

Some friends really do know everything. And sometimes the scary parts aren't so scary when you realize you're not the only one pretending.