The Deep End

My palms were sweating so hard I could practically water the plants with them. Standing at the edge of Jake's pool party, I watched everyone else diving in like they'd been born with gills, while I was still rocking my street clothes and acting like I was too cool to swim.

"Yo Marcus, you good?" Jake called from the water, splashing water at my feet. "You've been standing there like a statue for twenty minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," I lied, clutching my phone like a lifeline. "Just waiting for the right moment."

The truth? I was sixteen years old and I didn't know how to swim. Not even a little. Meanwhile, everyone in my grade was literally fish. My cousin Maya had been on the swim team since she was six. Even Jake's dog, Buster, could doggy-paddle better than I could.

"You're overthinking it," Maya appeared beside me, holding a red solo cup. "It's not that deep. Literally."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "Some of us didn't get swimming lessons at age five. Some of us had parents who thought learning to swim meant watching YouTube tutorials."

Maya laughed. "Okay, that's valid. But you're missing out. The water's perfect, and everyone's having a blast. Plus, there's this girl over there who keeps looking at you."

I followed her gaze and saw exactly who she meant—Chloe from my English class, currently floating on an inflatable flamingo and definitely smiling in my direction. My stomach did that thing where it feels like you swallowed a bunch of butterflies.

"She's not looking at me," I said, though I totally hoped she was.

"Bro, she literally is," Maya said. "But you're not gonna make a move wearing your hoodie and looking like you're at a funeral. Jump in already."

I looked at the water. It wasn't even that deep—I could see the bottom from where I stood. But my brain was screaming DANGER like I was about to jump into shark-infested waters. My goldfish from fifth grade had lived longer than I'd last in that pool.

"Fine," I said, pulling off my hoodie. "But if I drown, you tell everyone I went out fighting a bull."

"A bull?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "Where did you even get that from?"

"I don't know, man! I'm nervous!" I kicked off my shoes. "Here goes nothing."

I jumped. And okay, for like two seconds, I flailed like I was fighting invisible bees. But then I felt Maya's hand grab my arm, steadying me. "You're good, you're good," she said. "Just relax. Float."

And somehow, I did. The water held me up. I wasn't Michael Phelps, but I wasn't drowning either. I was just... swimming. Sort of.

Chloe floated over on her flamingo. "Finally decided to join us?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling my face heat up. "Fashionably late."

"You look like you're fighting a current," she said, but she was smiling. "Here, I'll teach you."

She reached out, and her hand brushed mine, and suddenly the pool party didn't feel so terrifying anymore. I was still terrible at swimming, but I was doing it. And sometimes, that's what growing up feels like—you're scared out of your mind, your palms are sweating, you feel like you're in way over your head, but you jump anyway.

Because sometimes the only thing worse than looking stupid is missing out on everything.