Sweating It Out

The pool water shimmered like liquid diamonds, but Maya couldn't appreciate it. Not with her palms sweating so much they'd practically slide off her phone.

"Hey! You playing padel?" someone called.

Maya forced what she hoped passed for a chill smile. Padel. The sport everyone at this fancy country club seemed obsessed with. Meanwhile, she'd left her baseball glove at home because her mom said it wasn't 'country club appropriate.' Whatever that meant.

"Maybe later," Maya said, gripping her iPhone like a lifeline. Her thumbs hovered over the screen, but she couldn't bring herself to check her notifications. What if her friends back home were hanging out without her? What if they'd already moved on?

The truth hit her like a foul ball to the face: she was hiding. Hiding behind this phone, pretending to be busy, anything to avoid admitting she felt like an imposter in this world of designer swimsuits and trendy sports.

A splash interrupted her spiral. Some kid cannonballed into the pool, sending water everywhere. Maya ducked, but not fast enough—droplets plastered her hair to her forehead.

"Sorry!" The boy who'd jumped grinned like he'd just won the lottery. "Wanna race?"

Something shifted. Maybe it was the genuine smile. Maybe it was realizing nobody actually cared that she didn't know how to play padel. Or maybe she was just tired of standing on the edge, literally and metaphorically.

Maya's palms stopped sweating.

"You're on," she said, dropping her phone onto her towel.

Baseball might be her thing, but she could dominate a pool race. And if she made a fool of herself? At least she'd be doing it on her own terms, not hiding behind a screen.