The Night We Almost Drowned

Marcus's older brother said high school parties were legendary. Turns out legendary mostly means awkward teens standing around a bonfire pretending to be chill. I'd been crushing on Sofia since seventh period science, and somehow I'd let Marcus convince me that tonight—tonight!—was the night I'd finally shoot my shot.

His golden retriever, Buster, kept nudging my hand like he knew I was spiraling. Good dog. At least someone wasn't judging my playlist.

Then it happened. Someone dared Sofia to jump off the dock into the dark water. She did it perfectly—no hesitation, just this graceful arc under the moonlight like she was in a movie or something. Everyone cheered. I felt like I was gonna hurl.

"Your turn, bro," Marcus whispered, elbowing me.

I couldn't not do it. The social pressure was real, okay? So I climbed up there, heart hammering, and without giving myself time to overthink, I leaped.

The water was freezing. Like, shock-your-system cold. I came up gasping, and for a second, everything was fine. I'd done it. I was one of the cool kids now.

Then something brushed against my leg.

I freaked. Totally froze. My brain went straight to every horror movie I'd ever seen—shark, crocodile, whatever. I started thrashing, swallowing water, coughing, sinking—

A hand grabbed my arm. Sofia. She hauled me to the dock while I sputtered like an idiot, dignity absolutely gone.

"It's just a branch," she said, not unkindly. She helped me climb out, shivering. "You good?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Totally. Just gotta bear the cold, you know?"

She laughed. Not mean-laughed. Real laughed. Then she sat down beside me, dripping water everywhere, and handed me a towel someone tossed over.

"First time here?" she asked.

I nodded, miserable.

"Same last year. Marcus pushed me in too. He's a menace."

We sat there for twenty minutes while the party raged behind us. She asked about my dog. I told her about Buster. She showed me her scar from appendix surgery. It wasn't the smooth romantic moment I'd imagined, but somehow it was better.

"Next time," she said, standing up and squeezing water from her hair, "bring a change of clothes. And maybe don't listen to Marcus."

"Yeah," I said, grinning like an idiot. "Next time."

Maybe I hadn't drowned. Maybe I'd just started living.