The Summer We Ran Everything

The chlorine hit first—sharp and chemical, promising something different. I stood at the edge of the community pool, my phone clutched in hand, staring at Maya's text: *i'm done. this isn't working.*

My best friend since seventh grade was ghosting me. Over what? Because I'd gotten the lifeguard job she'd wanted? Because I'd actually studied for the certification while she'd been too busy vaping behind the bleachers?

"You gonna jump in or what?" called Tyler, the cute senior who'd somehow noticed me existing this summer.

"In a minute," I lied. But instead of stepping onto the concrete deck, I found myself running—past the pool gates, past the tennis courts, my flip-flops slapping against the pavement. I wasn't running toward anything. Just running.

Two blocks later, I crashed onto the park bench behind the rec center, chest heaving. This was pathetic. I was pathetic.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

*hey it's tyler from the pool. left my phone charger in the office. can you bring it?*

I stared at the message. A cable. He was asking me to bring him a charging cable like this was normal. Like I wasn't currently having a mental health crisis.

Then I noticed something in my bag—those gummy vitamins Mom made me take every morning. The ones Maya used to steal, laughing about how we were basically old ladies. *your daily dose of basic,* she'd called them.

Suddenly it hit me: this entire summer, I'd been waiting. Waiting for Maya to figure out her life. Waiting for things to go back to how they were. Meanwhile, she'd been moving on without me.

I texted Tyler back: *on my way.*

And then I texted Maya: *i get it. people change. but i'm still here if you ever want to swim like old times.*

Maybe she'd reply. Maybe she wouldn't. But I was done running from things that needed to be said.

The vitamin gummies rolled around in my bag as I walked back toward the pool, toward whatever came next.