Zombie Floaties

The bull in the china store had nothing on me navigating freshman year. I was clumsy, awkward, and apparently the only person at Lincoln High who hadn't mastered the art of being effortlessly cool.

"You're like a zombie before first period," Maya said, sliding into the seat next to me in homeroom. She flipped her perfect curls and adjusted her oversized glasses, the kind that weren't prescription but made her look artsy. "Seriously, you need some vitamin D in your life."

I rolled my eyes. Maya had been my best friend since kindergarten, back when my biggest worry was what color marker to use. Now she was suggesting I join the swim team because "chloramine is the future" or something.

"Swimming? Really?" I asked, already envisioning myself doing a dead man's float while everyone else gracefully laps. "That sounds like a public embarrassment waiting to happen."

"Come on," she pleaded. "Practice is at the YMCA. Mr. Henderson says I need one more person for the relay, or we can't compete."

So there I was, standing at the edge of the pool in a bathing suit that felt three sizes too small, surrounded by girls who looked like they were born in water. The air smelled like chlorine and teen anxiety.

"Alright everyone!" Coach Martinez clapped her hands. "Let's see what you've got!"

I dove in. The water swallowed me whole, cool and terrifying. I thrashed, I splashed, I probably looked like a cat being forcibly bathed. But then something clicked. My arms found a rhythm. My legs stopped flailing. I was actually moving.

When I surfaced, gasping for air, Maya was grinning from the pool deck. "Not bad for a zombie."

I laughed, treading water. Maybe freshman year wouldn't be so terrible after all. At least I'd found something I didn't completely suck at.

"Still," I said, pushing wet hair from my face. "If anyone asks, I'm definitely joining the chess club instead."