The Art of Not Drowning

The chlorine smell hit me before I even stepped onto the deck. Another Saturday morning at the community pool, where my mom thought I'd make friends and stop being 'that quiet kid.' Meanwhile, I was stuck taking these mega-dose vitamin D gummies because apparently sunlight wasn't enough.

'Leo! You coming to play padel later?' Jake yelled from the deep end, doing that annoying cannonball splash that got water everywhere.

I gripped my towel tighter. 'Maybe. My dad wants me to practice baseball again.'

The truth? I'd quit the baseball team three weeks ago and hadn't told anyone yet. Too much pressure, too many expectations. Coach Miller's voice still echoed in my head: 'You've got potential, Leo! Don't waste it!'

But here's the thing nobody talked about: sometimes potential feels like a backpack full of rocks.

I'd become a professional spy of my own life. Watched Jake and the popular crew from behind my sunglasses, memorizing their inside jokes, their ways of existing so effortlessly in their skin. Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out if I was the baseball player, the padel enthusiast, or just the guy who hung out at the pool avoiding everything.

'What's with the vitamins?' Maya appeared beside me, dripping wet. 'You planning to live forever?'

'Mom's idea,' I admitted. 'She thinks I need more... everything.'

Maya laughed, and something about it felt real. 'Parents and their fixes. My dad signed me up for that padel tournament like it's gonna cure my awkward phase.'

We both looked at the group of popular kids doing synchronized swimming mock-ups in the shallow end.

'You spy on them too,' Maya said quietly.

'I—'

'It's okay. We're all spies sometimes.' She slipped her goggles back on. 'Wanna play padel for real tomorrow? No audience, no pretending.'

The chlorine didn't smell so sharp anymore. 'Yeah,' I said, and for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like I was underwater.