Taking the Plunge

The backyard pool glowed with underwater LED lights, bodies bobbing everywhere as Tyler's annual rager kicked into high gear. I stood near the snack table nursing a warm soda, watching everyone else living their best lives while I stood there socially paralyzed.

"Yo, Marcus! You gonna stand there all night or actually get in?" Fox yelled from the pool's edge. Fox—that was his nickname since middle school, dude with orange hair and a reputation for being the most cunning person in our grade when it came to getting out of trouble.

"I'm good!" I lied, though my clothes were already weighed down from the humidity. Truth was, I hadn't told anyone I still didn't know how to swim properly. At sixteen. Pathetic, right?

That's when Jordan and his crew—the absolute bulls of our school's social hierarchy—started pushing people into the pool. Laughter erupted, but my stomach dropped. Jordan caught my eye from across the yard, that predatory smile spreading across his face.

"Hey Marcus!" he called out. "Bet you won't take the plunge!" The whole party went quiet. Classic.

Fox appeared beside me, dripping wet. "Don't let them get in your head, bro. I got you." He lowered his voice. "Look, half these people are doggy-passing and calling it swimming. Nobody's actually watching."

Before I could respond, Fox dragged me toward the pool. "Just get in. I'll teach you the real stuff tomorrow if you want. But tonight? Fake it 'til you make it like everyone else."

So I jumped.

The shock of cold water knocked the air out of me, but Fox was right there, pulling me up while everyone cheered. I kicked awkwardly, definitely not graceful, but I was doing it. Jordan actually nodded respect.

Later that night, sitting on Fox's driveway while we dripped dry, he taught me actual strokes. "See? You overthought everything, man. Sometimes you just gotta jump in and figure it out."

He was right about swimming. And probably everything else.