Sink or Swim

Maya's orange hair made her a target before she even spoke at her new school. Fresh from Oregon, she stuck out like a neon sign in the California hallway where everyone seemed to blonde-brown blend together. She'd spent the summer before freshman year convincing her mom to let her dye it, thinking bold meant brave, but now she just felt like a walking 'look at me' billboard.

The water at the Larson's pool party glittered deceptively inviting. Maya stood at the edge in her oversized t-shirt, watching the popular crowd do cannonballs and chicken fights. Jordan, the guy she'd been crushing on since week one, waved at her.

'Coming in?' he called, droplets sparkling on his abs.

'I'm good,' she lied, but her best friend Priya was already behind her, whisper-yelling, 'Girl, you promised you'd actually try this time.'

Maya's palms were already sweating at the thought of everyone seeing her swimsuit, seeing the body she'd spent years hiding in hoodies and oversized everything. The pool represented everything she hated: exposure, vulnerability, the possibility of looking foolish in front of people whose opinions somehow mattered more than they should.

'One time,' Jordan was saying, 'I jumped in fully clothed because I forgot my suit. Worst decision ever. Had to walk home in soggy jeans.'

Something about his confession, the way he didn't care about looking dumb, made Maya's heart rate slow down. She peeled off her t-shirt. Nobody stared. Nobody laughed. The girl whose hair had been dyed the exact color of a Creamsicle that morning was just another person jumping into blue water on a hot Saturday.

She didn't cannonball. She didn't make a scene. She just slid in, the water closing around her like a second skin, and realized that the thing she'd been terrified of for weeks had taken maybe three seconds and changed absolutely nothing except her own mind.

Later, Jordan's orange soda sat by the pool's edge while he and Maya floated in the deep end, talking about everything and nothing, and she thought maybe this growing up thing wasn't about becoming someone different — just someone who wasn't afraid to already be exactly who she was.