The Summer I Almost Drowned (Literally and Socially)

The lake at Miller's Creek was where everything happened or didn't happen, depending on who you asked. I stood at the edge, clutching my **iPhone** like it was my last connection to dignity. Maya had already texted three times: "R U coming?? Party's starting without u."

I wasn't much of **swimming** person, which was basically social suicide at Miller's Creek. But Tyler was going to be there, and Tyler had smiled at me in algebra yesterday, so here I was.

The water was dark, and I was regretting everything.

"Yo, Maya!" someone yelled from across the water. "That **dog** is back!"

A massive golden retriever was paddling toward us, looking way too happy about crashing a teenager party. Everyone laughed. Someone threw a tennis ball. The dog's name, according to the collar, was Bear.

Bear.

Like, the **bear** that had been spotted in the woods behind the lake last week. The one that had half the town freaking out and the other half making terrible TikToks about it.

"Wouldn't it be messed if that was actually a bear in disguise?" Tyler joked, treading water near me. "Like, a bear wearing a dog costume?"

I laughed. Actually laughed. Not the fake laugh I'd been practicing.

"Total Shape of Water situation," I said.

Tyler smiled at me. Really smiled.

Then my iPhone buzzed in my pocket. Waterproof case, my ass. The screen flickered and died. Maya's face disappeared. The world went quiet except for the dog—Bear—splashing around like he owned the place.

"Whatever," I said, and it came out way more chill than I felt. "I can just... exist. Without my phone."

"Wild concept," Tyler said.

We stayed in the water until our fingers pruned, talking about algebra and bears and the weirdness of being seventeen. The dog eventually got bored and chased a squirrel into the woods.

Later, when I finally got home and charged my phone, I had one new message from Maya. A photo she'd taken: me and Tyler in the water, both laughing, with Bear the golden retriever photobombing in the foreground.

"U survived," she'd written. "And I think Tyler likes u."

Maybe drowning your social anxiety was just about jumping in. Even when the water was dark and your phone died and the only thing you could control was whether you laughed at the terrible joke.

Bear the dog had known what was up all along.