The Spinach Incident

Maya's vintage baseball cap sat tilted just right—she'd spent twenty minutes perfecting the angle. Tonight was the night. Jake Morrison, who'd barely acknowledged her existence since sixth grade, had actually invited her to his pool party.

"You look fine," her little brother Tyler said, not looking up from his phone. "Stop spiraling."

"I'm not spiraling." She checked her reflection again. The cap was perfect. The spinach dip she'd helped her mom make was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Except Maya couldn't swim. Not really. She could do a panicked doggy paddle and that was about it.

The Morrison's backyard was already packed when she arrived. Jake waved from near the pool, looking unfairly good in swim trunks. Maya's stomach did that annoying fluttery thing. She set the spinach dip on the snack table and tried to look casual.

"Maya!" Jake pushed through the crowd. "Love the cap. Very retro."

"Thanks." She touched the brim self-consciously.

"You gonna swim?"

"Maybe later. Just warming up."

She spent the next hour successfully avoiding the water while stuffing her face with spinach dip to calm her nerves. It was working perfectly—Jake kept talking to her, laughing at her jokes, maybe even flirting back?—until Chelsea Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was showed up.

Chelsea was beautiful. Chelsea was on the swim team. Chelsea dove into the pool with the grace of a mermaid while Maya stood on the deck holding an empty spinach dip container.

"You gonna jump in or what?" someone called.

Before she could overthink it, Maya grabbed Jake's arm. "Race you."

"What?"

"To the other side. Right now."

She shoved him into the pool. He surfaced laughing, splashing water everywhere. "Oh, you're going down."

Maya jumped in after him.

Her form was terrible. Her arms flailed, her legs sank, and she swallowed what felt like half the pool. But Jake was right there, treading water, grinning like she'd just told the best joke of his life.

"You call that swimming?" he teased.

"I call it artistic interpretation," she sputtered back.

Later, wrapped in a towel with wet hair and the world's worst spinach aftertaste, Jake sat beside her. "That was the most entertaining race I've ever seen."

"I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Nope." He bumped her shoulder. "But you can make it up to me. There's this vintage baseball card shop downtown..."

Maya smiled. The cap was still perfect. The dip was gone. And somehow, despite everything, she was winning.