The Summer I Learned to Float

The worst thing about having your hair fall out in chunks during the most important pool party of the summer isn't the embarrassment. It's that everyone pretends not to notice.

"Your hair looks... different," Maya said, like different was a compliment.

I'd spent two hours trying to fix what the chlorine destroyed, but apparently that's what happens when you dye your hair midnight blue and then spend every day at swim practice. Now it was patchy and weird and I looked like I'd escaped from a poorly budgeted zombie movie.

Which was fitting, because I felt like a zombie anyway. Three weeks of summer school, plus swim practice, plus my parents fighting constantly had left me running on caffeine and anxiety. I was basically the walking dead, but with worse hair.

The pool party was at Tyler's house. Tyler, who'd gotten hot over spring break. Tyler, whose older brother was this massive college guy everyone called Bear because he was literally the size of one and had this beard that made him look like he could crush a beer can on his forehead.

Bear was there, lurking by the snack table with his college friends, looking terrifying and also kind of amazing in that way older boys always do when you're fifteen.

I sat on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in the water, trying to disappear.

"You're not swimming?"

I looked up and Bear was standing there. Actual Bear. Up close he was even more enormous, with these intense brown eyes and a tiny gold hoop in one ear that made zero sense and also made total sense.

"My hair," I said, then wanted to die. "I mean, I'm not feeling great."

He nodded like this was profound wisdom. "The water's cold anyway."

Then he sat down next to me, this giant creature folding himself onto the pool deck like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. We sat there for a while, watching Tyler and his friends play pool chicken, listening to the splash and shouting and the terrible music.

"I failed my driver's test three times," Bear said suddenly.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. Everyone thinks because I'm big and older that I've got my life together. But I'm still figuring stuff out too." He gestured at my blue patches. "My senior year, I dyed my hair green. It turned out looking like mold. I wore a hood for two weeks straight."

I laughed. I actually laughed.

"The point is," he said, standing up again, "nobody notices as much as you think they do. And if they do, they don't care."

He walked back to his friends, and I slid into the water. It was cold, shocking against my skin, and for a second I panicked. Then I relaxed. I floated on my back, looking up at the sky, feeling weightless.

My hair was still messed up. I was still exhausted and stressed and my life felt like it was falling apart. But floating there, looking at the clouds, I realized I didn't have to have it all figured out. Even Bear had failed his driver's test three times.

Later that night, Maya texted me: "Bear was asking about you 🥺"

I texted back: "lol whatever"

But I smiled at my phone in the dark, feeling something that wasn't quite happiness but was close. Like learning to float - letting the water hold you up instead of fighting it.

My hair was still falling out. But maybe, just maybe, I was going to be okay.