Taking the Bull by the Horns

Mateo's cowboy hat was basically part of his skull at this point. His abuelo had given him the straw hat when he turned twelve, same age abuelo started riding bulls in Michoacán. Now Mateo was fifteen, rocking the hat in the hallways of Lincoln High, looking like he'd wandered off a ranch and into suburban hell.

"Nice hat, Matador," Jason called out, pushing past him in the locker room. Jason was the school's resident swim star and all-around douchebag. "You gonna wear that in the pool?"

The whole swim team laughed. Because of course, Jason had managed to make everything into a thing.

Swimming unit. Mateo's least favorite week of gym class. He'd grown up around bulls—his family ran a small ranch outside town—but put him in a pool and he transformed into a awkward mess. Last year, he'd nearly drowned during the mandatory deep-water test while Jason did laps around him.

"Take it off," Coach Miller yelled. "No hats in the pool."

Mateo slid it off slowly. His hair stood up weirdly from hat-hair. Definitely not the vibe he was going for.

"Alright, everyone in," Coach Miller announced. "Today we're doing the deep-water test. Again."

Jason smirked. "Watch this." He dove in, slicing through the water like a missile, clearly showing off.

Mateo's stomach did that awful flip thing. The same flip he felt watching his dad get thrown off a bull at the rodeo last summer. But his dad had gotten back on. That was the thing.

"Mateo, you're up," Coach said.

He slipped into the pool. The cold hit him like a physical blow. His feet couldn't touch bottom. Panic clawed at his throat. Jason and his friends were watching, probably waiting for him to fail.

Then Mateo remembered something his dad had said after getting thrown from that bull. "Fear's just your body telling you something matters. You don't let it stop you. You ride it out."

His dad dealt with angry, thousand-pound bulls. Mateo could handle some water.

He pushed off the wall, kicked hard, and started swimming. Not graceful like Jason. Not fast. But he kept going. One stroke, then another. His arms burned. His lungs screamed.

When he finally touched the other side, Coach Miller nodded. "Pass."

Jason was already waiting poolside, looking almost impressed. "Not terrible, cowboy."

Mateo pulled himself out of the water, reaching for his hat. As he settled it back on his head, he realized something: he'd been so scared of looking stupid, he'd forgotten that everyone struggled with something.

Jason might own the pool, but Mateo could take the bull by the horns when he needed to.