Sink or Swim

The first day of summer camp, Jordan learned three things: his roommate was a human furnace, the cafeteria pizza was definitely cardboard, and someone had already labeled him as the kid who'd sink like a stone during swim tests.

"Yo, check out the pyramid scheme," his roommate Mateo whispered, pointing at the bulletin board. "Counselors selling 'friendship bracelets' for twenty bucks. Wild."

Jordan couldn't focus. His iPhone was burning a hole in his pocket—his feed was probably exploding without him. No posts for three whole days. His followers would think he'd died.

Then he saw her. Chloe. The girl who'd been watching him from across the mess hall all morning. Every time he looked up, there she was, then she'd duck behind her hair. Like she was some kinda spy.

"She's totally into you," Mateo said, bumping his shoulder.

"Yeah, right."

"Bro, I caught her staring at you during orientation too. She's gathering intel."

That afternoon was swim test day. Jordan's stomach twisted. He'd barely survived lessons last summer, and now he had to demonstrate competence in front of everyone. Including Chloe.

"Bull," someone muttered behind him. Jordan turned to see Drew—the guy who'd already made two cry by lunch. "This oughta be good."

The whistle blew. Jordan stepped to the pool's edge, his heart hammering. Cold water reflected the sky like a mirror he didn't want to face. He could just sit this out. Let Drew win. Let Chloe think he was a loser.

"Jordan?" The counselor raised her eyebrows.

He looked at Chloe. She wasn't hiding anymore. She was watching, waiting. Not like a spy, but like someone actually giving a damn.

Jordan jumped.

The shock of cold hit his chest. He kicked upward, broke the surface, and started swimming. His form was garbage. His timing was off. But he kept going. One lap. Then another.

When he finally dragged himself to the edge, gasping, Drew was gone. But Chloe was there, hand outstretched.

"You did it," she said, grinning.

Jordan let her pull him up. "Barely."

"Better than Drew," she said, nodding toward the exit. "He 'forgot' his trunks."

That night, Jordan finally checked his phone. His feed was fine. His followers hadn't abandoned him. But none of that mattered anymore. He'd sink or swim on his own terms, no audience required.

Well. Almost none.