Sweaty Palms and Shallow Ends

Maya's palms were basically a waterfall at this point. Great. Just great.

"You okay?" Jake whispered beside her, his skateboard tucked under his arm like it was some kind of shield.

"Peachy," she lied, wiping her hands on her denim shorts. "Just nervous about the whole... pool situation."

They were at Tyler's end-of-summer bash, and apparently everyone who was anyone had decided this was the moment to prove their confidence by jumping into freezing chlorinated water. Maya had managed to avoid pools for basically her entire high school existence. No one needed to know she still couldn't really swim. The internet had enough embarrassing content without her adding "nearly drowned at a party" to her permanent record.

"You're not gonna spy on everyone from behind that bush all night, right?" Jake teased. "Because that's not weird at all."

"I'm not spying!" she protested. "I'm... observing. There's a difference."

"You've been staring at Chelsea's Instagram stories for twenty minutes, Maya. That's literally what spying is."

Chelsea—of course Chelsea would be there, looking like she'd stepped out of a TikTok filter, hair perfectly messy in that way that definitely took forty-five minutes to achieve. Chelsea, who'd somehow gotten Maya to promise she'd actually swim tonight. Chelsea, who had no idea Maya's last pool experience ended with her clinging to a noodle like it was her only friend.

Fine. Whatever. She could do this. She was fifteen now. This was the year she stopped being the girl who sat on the edges.

Maya kicked off her flip-flops. Her heart was doing that thing where it forgot how to rhythm properly. Jake gave her this tiny thumbs-up, which was both awkward and exactly what she needed.

She stepped toward the pool.

"Maya!" Chelsea waved from the water. "Finally! Get in here!"

Maya took a breath. The water shimmered in the backyard lights, all blue and promising and terrifying.

She jumped.

The shock of cold swallowed her whole. For a second, she panicked—then felt the bottom. She stood up, water dripping from her hair, surfacing like some kind of awkward dolphin.

Everyone was staring. And then—they weren't. Because apparently no one actually cared that much. Tyler was already shouting something about chicken fights. Chelsea was laughing at something someone said.

"See?" Jake called from the edge. "Not weird at all."

Maya wiped water from her eyes and grinned. Her palms weren't sweating anymore. Obviously. They were wet.

Whatever. She'd take it.