The Cannonball Courage

Maya stood at the edge of the pool, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The Jacksons' annual summer bash raged behind her—laughter overlapping with bass-heavy music, the smell of chlorine and sunscreen mixing with someone's grilled hotdogs. Her iphone buzzed with five unread texts from her friends asking where she was.

'You gonna stand there all day or what?'

It was Jake-the-hockey-captain-Jake, wearing his backwards Bulls hat and looking annoyingly confident. The same Jake who'd called her 'Maya-who-always-blends-into-lockers' for three years straight.

'Maybe,' she shot back, surprising herself. Since when did she talk back to Jake?

He grinned. 'Bet you won't cannonball.'

The challenge hung in the humid July air. Everyone nearby stopped talking. Maya felt sixteen eyes locked on her, waiting. This was it—the moment she could either remain Maya-who-blends-in or become someone else entirely. Someone who took risks. Someone who didn't care what people thought.

Her fingers tightened around her phone. Then she made her choice.

'Move,' she said, shoving her phone into her bag.

The jump was a blur of cold water and sudden silence. When she surfaced, sputtering and laughing, the whole pool area was cheering. Even Jake was clapping, looking genuinely impressed.

'Not bad,' he said, holding out a hand to help her out of the pool.

Maya climbed out, water streaming down her face, her hair plastered to her forehead. She caught her reflection in the sliding glass door—hat hair, raccoon eyes from melted mascara, not caring at all.

'Round two?' someone shouted.

Maya grabbed her phone and typed back to her friends: *omw. you won't believe what I just did.*

Some days, she thought, you just have to jump in.