The Goldfish at the Deep End

The pool party of the year. The one everyone would be talking about on Monday. And I was standing at the edge in my denim shorts while everyone else was already in the water, laughing like they'd been friends since preschool.

"You coming in or what?" Maya called from the middle of the pool. She'd been my best friend literal three days ago, before she got invited to Sarah's table at lunch and suddenly forgot my existence existed.

I wrapped my arms around myself. The problem wasn't the swimsuit situation (though that was a whole other trauma). The problem was that I didn't know how to swim. In sophomore year. Basically social suicide.

"I'm good," I said, trying to sound chill instead of like I was about to pass out.

Then I felt it — cold wetness soaking through my shorts. Buster. Sarah's golden retriever, who'd apparently decided to shake himself dry right next to me.

Everyone laughed. Not mean laughter, but still. My face burned hotter than July asphalt.

"Buster, you traitor," Sarah said, grinning as she waded over. "Sorry about him. He's basically a giant toddler."

She reached out her hand, palm up, like she was actually offering to help me. Not out of pity. Just because.

"The shallow end's basically standing room," she said. "And Maya told me you're like, amazing at palm reading? That's so random, I love it."

I stared at her hand, then at Maya, who was bobbing in the water looking guilty.

"I may have mentioned it," Maya called out. "Also I may have told everyone you're teaching me to do a flip turn next weekend. So you kinda have to learn now."

I looked at the water, at Sarah's hand, at Maya who was still my friend even if she sat at a different table now. Life kept moving forward whether I was ready or not, like a goldfish that keeps swimming even when you're not watching.

I took Sarah's hand. "Okay. But if I drown, I'm haunting you all forever."

"Deal," she said, and pulled me in. The water was cold and scary and exactly what I needed.