Water off a Duck's Back

The invitation sat on my phone screen for three days before I finally typed: sure. Maddie's end-of-summer pool party. The same Maddie who'd spent seventh grade making my life miserable. The same Maddie who'd somehow transformed into queen bee of Westbridge High while I remained firmly in the background, comfortably invisible.

"You're going?" Maya asked, sprawled across my bed. "After what she did?"

"People change," I said, though I didn't believe it.

The party was already packed when I arrived. Blue inflatable floats bobbed in the **pool** like confused icebergs. I stayed on the deck, clutching my towel like armor.

Then I saw it—the new padel court in their backyard. A handful of kids were playing, laughing. I'd been taking lessons all summer, something I'd mentioned to exactly no one.

"Want in?" It was Leo, the quiet kid from my history class. He held out a racquet.

Before I could overthink it, I was on the court. The ball thwacked against the walls, my movements fluid and confident. Game face on, I forgot about being the weird kid who'd rather read than party. I forgot about Maddie.

"Nice backhand," someone said. I realized a small crowd had gathered. Including Maddie.

"Didn't know you played," she said, and there was something weird in her voice. Not mocking. Something else.

"Started this summer."

She nodded, then: "I was mean to you in middle school."

The ball hit the fence behind me. Well.

"Yeah," I said.

"I was going through stuff," she said, twisting the bracelet on her wrist. "My parents were divorcing, and I was angry at everyone. You were just... easy to target."

She looked at the **padel** court, then back at me. "You're good, though. Really good."

"Thanks."

"Want to play mixed doubles?" Leo called out. "Maddie and Jordan versus you and—"

"I'm in," Maddie said, stepping onto the court.

We played until the sun dipped behind the trees. Maddie laughed when she shanked a ball into the neighbors' yard. I laughed when I tripped over my own feet. She wasn't a **bull** in the china shop of my life anymore—just a girl who'd made mistakes and was trying, however awkwardly, to fix them.

Later, as I grabbed my towel to leave, Maddie appeared beside me.

"Same time next week?" she asked. "We could practice. You know, if you want."

"Maybe," I said, and this time, I almost meant it.

Some things don't need to be forgiven. But sometimes, just sometimes, people do change. And sometimes, you change too—into someone who's not so scared of the water anymore.