Sphinx, Secrets, and Chlorine

The invitation to Sarah's pool party sat on my phone screen like a judgment. Everyone who was anyone would be there, and I was currently hovering somewhere near the basement of the freshman social pyramid. But Maya had begged me to come, and honestly, I was tired of spending every Friday night watching Netflix alone in my room.

When I arrived, the backyard was already chaos. Seniors cannonballed off the diving board while sophomores huddled in nervous clusters around the snack table. I positioned myself strategically near the inflatable sphinx float—because nothing says I'm totally comfortable with myself like parking next to a six-foot plastic Egyptian monument with weirdly realistic eyes.

Then I saw him. Tyler, who sat at the very tip-top of the popularity pyramid, laughing like his life was a constant highlight reel. He was surrounded by the kind of people who made being seventeen look effortless. I was currently swimming through the shallow end of social existence, trying not to drown in my own awkwardness.

"Hey, nice sphinx," Tyler said, suddenly beside me. "Wanna help me flip it? Some of the guys are trying to make a human pyramid on top of it."

I stared at him. "That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"Exactly." He grinned, and something about his smile wasn't quite as perfect as I'd expected from a distance. "That's why we need someone sensible there. You look sensible."

I looked down at my extremely sensible one-piece while everyone else was in bikinis and board shorts. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The human pyramid attempt was predictably disastrous. Three seniors crashed into the water while the sphinx float capsized, trapping Tyler briefly beneath its plastic wing. I jumped in to help extract him, and we surfaced simultaneously, gasping and laughing as chlorine water streamed down our faces.

"Well," he said, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "That was the opposite of cool."

"Actually," I said, treading water beside him, "that was the most fun I've had all year."

He looked at me then—really looked at me—and I realized something about the social pyramid: it's not actually made of stone. It's made of people who are all just swimming around, pretending they know what they're doing.

"Wanna get food?" Tyler asked. "I think I deserve it after nearly being defeated by a sphinx."

"Only if you promise not to make any more human pyramids."

"Deal."

Later that night, I floated on my back in the pool, staring up at the stars while people laughed around me. I wasn't at the top of any pyramid, and I definitely wasn't the coolest person there. But for the first time, I wasn't drowning either. I was just swimming—messy, awkward, and finally okay with it.