The Art of Treading Water

Maya's palms were sweating, which was honestly embarrassing because she was literally standing at the edge of a pool, so what was she even nervous about?

Right. The pool party. The one with Cameron from AP Bio, who had kind of smiled at her last Tuesday when she dropped her pen in the hallway. The pen had rolled under his backpack. He'd handed it back and said, "Nice save." That was it. That was the entire foundation of her current existential crisis.

She gripped her iPhone like a lifeline, thumb hovering over Instagram. The algorithm was not being her friend today – everyone looked flawless, tan, confident, and here she was, wearing a bikini she'd bought online and refused to try on in stores because changing rooms were her personal circle of hell.

"Yo! Maya! Get in or get out!" someone shouted. Probably Jake. Jake shouted everything.

Cameron dove into the water with this perfect, effortless arc, cutting through the surface like he was part fish. Maya watched, equal parts admiring and annoyed. Why did some people just... exist so comfortably? Meanwhile, she was overthinking everything from her sunscreen application to whether she'd positioned herself too close to the chips.

Her phone buzzed. Her mom, because obviously: DID YOU EAT THE SPINACH I PUT IN THE FRIDGE???

Maya rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt. Who brought spinach to a pool party? Her mom, that's who. Who was currently texting her like she hadn't raised the most socially awkward person on Earth.

Then it happened – her phone slipped.

One second it was in her hand, the next it was doing this slow-motion fall toward the pool, and Maya's brain just short-circuited. She lunged for it, missed, and ended up half-falling into the water herself, arms flailing like a dying bird.

"Whoa!" Cameron surfaced nearby, droplets cascading down his face. "You okay?"

Her phone was at the bottom of the pool. Her actual, not-waterproof iPhone. The iPhone that contained her entire personality.

"My phone," she croaked.

"Oh shit." Cameron actually dove under, came back up a second later with her dripping phone. "Yeah. That's... that's not great."

The screen flickered once, like a dying firefly, and went dark.

"My entire life," Maya whispered. "Every screenshot, every meme, every-"

"-every opportunity to actually talk to people instead of staring at a screen?" Cameron finished, and then he smiled, and wow, okay, that smile was doing things to her.

Jake's dog, this chaotic golden retriever named Bacon, chose that moment to shake himself off directly next to them, spraying water everywhere. Jake was doubled over laughing. Someone had brought out actual spinach dip because Jake's mom was apparently also trying to be healthy.

"So," Cameron said, handing her her very dead phone. "Since you can't doomscroll anymore..."

"Since I can't doomscroll anymore," Maya agreed, feeling something weirdly light in her chest. Like how she felt after finishing a really good book, except this was real life.

"Want to play chicken?" he asked. "Jake and Bacon are teaming up and honestly, I feel like we could take them."

Maya looked at her ruined phone, then at this perfect boy with water in his eyelashes, at Jake laughing so hard he was crying, at the dog doing excited circles because Spinach Dip Was Happening.

"Yeah," she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Her phone was dead. Her dignity was questionable. But somehow, for the first time all summer, she wasn't treading water anymore.

She was finally swimming.