The Summer the Pool Stood Still

The carnival goldfish lived in a bowl on Maya's nightstand for exactly three days before it went belly up. That should've been a sign about how sophomore year would go.

It started at Jason's pool party. The one everyone was talking about on Snap. I showed up wearing my vintage baseball tee—the one I thought made me look effortlessly chill, not like I was trying too hard. Lila was there, of course, looking like she'd stepped out of a TikTok filter, hair wet and perfect.

"You're actually gonna swim?" Marcus asked, already cannonballing into the water.

"Maybe," I said, totally lying. I couldn't swim. Like, at all. But admitting that at sixteen? Not an option.

So there I was, standing poolside in August humidity, pretending to check nonexistent notifications while everyone else lived their best lives. Lila floated by on an inflatable flamingo, laughing at something Jason said. My stomach did that thing—that stupid, traitorous thing it always did around her.

Then Bear showed up.

Not an actual bear (thank god), but Tyler's enormous Newfoundland dog, who'd never met a body of water he didn't love. Before anyone could stop him, this hundred-pound beast went full send into the deep end, tidal-waving half the party and sending Lila's flamingo—along with Lila—spiraling toward the shallow end.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the way Lila looked, sputtering and laughing instead of mad. Maybe I was just tired of being the kid who stood on the edges watching everyone else live. But I jumped in.

And yeah, the water was only four feet deep there. But in that moment, I wasn't thinking about depth or my stupid inability to swim or how I'd maintained a carefully curated distance from everything real for years. I was just there, wet and chlorine-smelling, helping Lila onto her ridiculous bird, while Bear shook water all over Jason's mom's patio furniture.

"You're so weird," she said, grinning like I'd just told a joke.

"Yeah," I said, feeling weirdly okay with it. "I guess I am."

Later, Bear curled up under the snack table and slept through three rounds of truth or dare. I never did tell Lila why I really jumped in. Some things are better left as mysteries.

The goldfish was gone by Monday. But some stories, I learned, are worth more than a three-day pet.