The Splash

My hair has always been my security blanket. Which is why, standing at the edge of the **pool** at Jake's party, I suddenly wished I'd brought a **hat**. Any hat. Even my little brother's ridiculous shark hat would've worked.

"You coming in or what?" Jake called from the water. He was treading water, smiling that smile that made my stomach do actual gymnastics.

I hesitated. The humidity had already turned my normally straight-ish hair into a question mark-shaped disaster. Getting it wet? That was basically signing a death warrant for any remaining dignity.

"She's scared!" yelled Chloe, floating on a unicorn inflatable. Chloe was not my **friend**. Chloe was the kind of person who used "no offense" as a prefix to say literally anything offensive.

"I'm not scared," I said, which was approximately 47% true. "I'm just... thinking."

"About what? The physics of cannonballs?" Jake laughed.

Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was something in the sparkling punch. Or maybe I was just tired of being the girl who sat on the edge watching everyone else live.

"Bet you can't catch me," I said, and before my brain could process what an absolutely terrible idea this was, I was **running** toward the pool and launching myself into the air.

The splash was magnificent. My form, less so.

I surfaced to applause. And laughter. But like, the good kind – everyone was whooping and Jake was actually clapping.

"That was the worst cannonball I've ever seen," Jake said, swimming over. "10 out of 10, would watch again."

"My hair," I groaned, pushing a sodden clump out of my face. "It's literally a disaster."

Jake looked at me, really looked at me, with water dripping everywhere and mascara probably running down my face. "Yeah," he said. "It looks like you're actually having fun."

And then he splashed me.

I splashed back. Harder.

By the time I got out of the pool an hour later, my hair was a wild creation of frizz and knots and chlorine. My straightener would weep. But as I caught Jake watching me from across the yard, I realized something: I'd spent fifteen years trying to control everything people saw when they looked at me.

Sometimes you've just got to jump in anyway.