I am 14 and I can’t swim. It’s not that I’m incapable; all my limbs work properly. It’s just that my mind won’t let me. Every time I’ve tried to even go near the water, I freeze up. This presents a unique problem. See, I live in a small town off the coast of Maine. Here, everyone knows each other. It’s literally impossible to keep a secret. Everybody knows me as the girl who can’t swim. It is completely and utterly humiliating. 

Growing up, I would hear other parents whisper about me, “Oh that’s Sophia, don’t invite her to the birthday party, she can’t swim”

“Poor thing,” they say.

“What a shame,” they sneer.

They act like I can’t hear them. In a town where life centers around the ocean, I am constantly being ostracized. I’m the black sheep, the town embarrassment. Worst of all, my swimming ceremony is coming up. You see, in my town, the summer before you start high school, you have to prove that you are ready to become an adult. It’s a whole ceremony. The entire rising ninth-grade class has to jump off a cliff. From there you swim to the beach. Then you have to swim from shore to a small island in the middle of the bay and back. The ceremony proves you’re ready to contribute to your family and neighbors, as a lot of our culture and livelihood surround the ocean. 

For example, my dad is a fisherman. I spend my weekends helping my dad set up his booth for the farmer’s market. During the summer, I am tasked with the wonderful chore of cleaning and gutting the fish. Trust me, it’s just as gross as it sounds. Once I complete the ceremony, he’ll begin to teach me how to sail and fish. Eventually, I’m expected to take over his business and continue his legacy. He says he’s proud of me no matter what, but I can tell he thinks I’m a disappointment. I can see it in his eyes when he leaves the dock, watching wistfully as every other fisherman has their kids on board helping. I know it makes him sad, but I just can’t. I’m a failure of a daughter. My only duty, my only job as a teen, is to help my family. But I can’t even do that. The bare minimum. But that changes today.

“Bye mom!” I shout up the stairs. “I’m heading out with Alice!”

“Oh ok sweetie, have fun and stay safe,” she responds. 

The ceremony also symbolizes that we are ready to be independent and can stay safe/take care of ourselves. If I complete the ceremony- no, when I complete the ceremony, I’ll have the freedom to go where I want without having to sneak around like this. When I’m sure my mom’s back in her room, I quietly sneak back in. Swiftly, I grab the essentials: goggles, swimsuit, towel. I begin to zip up my backpack, but I hesitate. Sighing, I stuff some floaties in before rezipping. Rather be safe than sorry. Suddenly, I hear a noise, and I freeze. I wait silently until I hear the footsteps fade away, and I hear the creak of my mom's bed as she sits back in it. I breathe a sigh of relief and tiptoe out the door, making sure it closes silently. Phew, that was a close one. I strap my helmet on and swing a leg over my powder blue bike. I’m off. I ride through the old, bumpy, cobblestone streets. Our town is small, so almost nobody drives. The closest thing to a car we have is a moped.

I pedal through the rows of colorful, narrow houses. When I was younger, I used to pretend they were books on a shelf, all pressed up against each other. I still like to imagine the kind of stories each book would be about. I pass the gray stone house, with vines creeping up it, clearly home to a mad alchemist, spending his days in the attic mixing potions. Even though I know it’s not real, I still speed up, pumping my legs harder, lest the alchemist sees me and decides I’m the perfect ingredient he’s been missing. My mom says I’m a daydreamer, and she’s not wrong. Why be stuck in this boring reality when I could create my own? When I’m lonely while my classmates play on the beach, I can pretend I’m riding a horse through the woods on my way to rescue a princess. In my head, I can be anywhere and anything I want.  

I stop to wave to the baker- an Italian Nonno with the best bread in town. His face is wrinkly, no doubt from the millions of smiles he’s given. He’s one of my favorite people, one of the only townspeople who doesn’t make fun of my fear. His warm demeanor puts anyone at ease. 

“Buongiorno fiorellina” he greets me warmly. 

He always calls me Fiorellina. When I asked him about it, he said it means little flower. He says it’s because “I will bloom,” whatever that's supposed to mean. 

“What are you be doing today?” he asked

“Today’s the day, Nonno. I’m going to get over my fear of swimming. Alice is going to help me,” I explained.

“Well, in that case, you’ll need fuel,” he says and hands me two sandwiches. 

“Thank you so much!!” I exclaim.

“Good luck, I believe in you.” he calls out as I leave.

I shoot him a quick grin before pedaling off. Shortly after, I arrived at the shore. I walked over to this small shallow cove with very gentle waves. It’s the perfect place to learn to swim. Soon after, Alice pulled up. She leans her bike against a tree and plops down on the sand next to me. 

“Hey girl are you ready for this?” she asks. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be” I shrug. Alice is a great friend: instead of dismissing my fears, she’s chosen to be my anchor in this journey I am about to embark upon. Where others scorn, she approaches me with a comforting smile, ready to lend a helping hand.

“Ok so I was doing some research and apparently to cure fears you can do something called exposure therapy. Let’s start slow- dip your toes in,” she instructs me.

I step into the surf, feeling my toes sink into the soft sand. The gentle waves lap at my ankles. This isn’t too bad. 

“Alright now lets take small steps forward.” she says. 

I grab her hand, and slowly, we advance, every step slightly deeper than the last. Before I know it, I’m in water up to my knees. My waist. My chest. Suddenly, I realize the water is up to my shoulders. I feel my fear rising up in me. I can feel it, like a tight ball in my throat. It’s hard to breathe. 

I look at Alice with crazed eyes, “Alice I can’t do this, we need to go back.”

“No, I know you can do this.” she affirms. She squeezes my hand tighter. The waves are bigger in this deeper water. 

“Just breathe,” she coaches me. 

Without warning, a wave rises out of nowhere. I get knocked over, and suddenly, I’ve lost my footing. I desperately kick my feet down, trying to find solid ground. But there is nothing. I frantically try to keep my head above the water. 

“Watch out!” Alice shouts at me. 

I whip my head around just in time to see an even larger wave rising above my head. I managed to take a deep breath before it all went dark. I stiffen as my body adjusts to the sudden change in temperature. I squeeze my eyes even tighter as the saltwater stings my chapped lips. I am at the mercy of the waves. In this darkness, I am totally disoriented, I have no sense of direction. I desperately claw towards what I hope is upwards, and my hand clenches around nothing. I’m trying to find something, anything, to pull myself up. My lungs scream for more air. I push off the burning in my chest. I need to keep going. 

“Stupid sophia.” I scold myself in my head. 

I should’ve known this would happen. My anxiety was right. I’m running out of air. My muscles are straining against the current. I feel myself growing weaker and weaker. Slowly, I begin to sink. All of a sudden, I feel a strong set of hands wrap around my ribcage. In a flurry of bubbles, I am propelled to the surface. The color behind my eyelids shifts from a dark black to a warm red, and I know I’m nearing the surface. With one final push, I’m thrust through the surface, my face breaking through into the air. I gasp, taking deep gulps of air. I hold onto Alice with all my strength as she brings me to shore. Finally, I feel my feet hit the sand again. I crawl my way onto the beach before collapsing onto my back, chest heaving. 

Alice sheepishly sits down next to me. I sit up and hug my knees to my chest, burying my face between them. I can’t face her, not now, not like this. Alice gives me a sympathetic smile, full of pity. 

“Hey,” she says softly and gently places a hand on my shoulder. I flinch at her touch, and she quickly retracts her arm. A pang of guilt shoots through me. That wasn’t nice of me, she's just trying to help. 

“I- I’m sorry,” I say and lift my head up. I don’t make eye contact with her, I can’t. Not yet.

“Are you ok?” she asks with genuine concern.

“I guess I’m ok. I’m just really shaken up,” I admit. I turn to look at her. I notice small red half-moon crescents carved into her arms. “Oh my god, what happened to your arm? Are you ok?” I ask. 

She smiles sadly. “You. You happened to my arm” she responds with a soft sort of sadness. 

Ashamed, I look away. “...Oh,” I mutter quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be! It’s worth it because you’re safe,” she reassures me. 

“I should’ve never done this. This was a mistake. I can’t swim, and I never will.”

Alice sighs, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and understanding. "Sophia, you can't give up after one setback. Overcoming fear takes time, patience, and persistence. We just started, and it's okay to be scared. But look at it this way – you faced your fear today. You were in the water, and you didn't drown. That's progress."

I wipe the salt water from my face and stare out at the rolling waves. Confused, I press her, “But I did start drowning?”

“No, you sank.” she retorts “But before that, for a brief moment, you swam.” 

Alice gives me a moment to consider her words before continuing, "Exposure therapy can be tough, but it's about gradually building resilience. We can try again, start from the shallows, and take it slow. I'll be right there with you, every step of the way."

I smile at her, tears welling in my eyes yet again. I lick my lips. My mouth tastes salty- a mixture of the ocean water and my tears. “Alice,” I say, “you are a really good friend. I don’t deserve you.”

“Well duh,” she laughs. 

I roll my eyes at her. “Ugh I’m STARVING,” I complain.

“Good thing Nonno gave us those sandwiches.” Alice says, reaching for the bag.

“I call dibs on the turkey!” I say, lunging for the tightly wrapped sandwich in Alice’s right hand. 

“They’re both turkey, stupid,” Alice says, shoving me away.

“Oh, whoops.” I say.

Alice rolls her eyes and throws me a towel “Come on, wipe off your face you’re all snotty from crying”

I catch it and press my face into my red-striped towel. The sand grains scratch my body as I dry off. “Ugh, it’s covered in sand,” I complain.

Alice grimaces while chewing her sandwich. “So are the sandwiches. My mouth feels all gritty,” she mumbles out while chewing. 

“Yeah, that’s my fault, I should’ve brought a better bag,” I say. 

“I forgive you,” Alice says as she sets down the brown paper wrapper into the sand. “as long as you promise to try again tomorrow.”

I pause for a moment and chew, contemplating her words. “Mmmmm, fine,” I groan. “I’ll try again tomorrow” 

“Yay!” Alice whoops, celebrating. “Just so you know even if you said no, I would’ve dragged you here anyways.”

“Yeah, I know you would,” I admit. “That’s why you are such a great friend, you always push me past my limits”

“You know it girl,” she says, lightly punching my shoulder.

I lean my head on her shoulder and close my eyes. The sun beams down, its warmth enveloping me like a warm blanket. It’s comforting. At that moment, briefly, I thought that maybe everything would be ok. I will try again tomorrow. 

Alice leans her head on top of mine. “You feeling better?” she asks.

“Mm yeah,” I mutter sleepily.

Alice laughs “See food fixes everything!”

“So true,” I respond. I love the sound of Alice's laugh. High-pitched, it’s exactly how I would imagine a fairy laughing sounds like. It never fails to make me smile. 

I turn to face Alice. Sighing, I rest my head on her shoulder and close my eyes, content. 

“Alice?” I ask.

“Mmm yeah?” she responds, muttering.

“You are a really good friend” I tell her.

“Uh yeah, duh” she says playfully, shoving me off her shoulder.

“No but seriously, I’m extremely grateful for you.” I say sincerely. 

“Aw I’m so grateful for you too.” she responds. 

We sit there for a while, basking in the warmth of the sun, sharing laughter, and munching on our sandy sandwiches. The worries of the world seem to drift away with the gentle sea breeze. After a while, we decided it was time to head home before my mom started worrying.

As we ride our bikes back through the cobblestone streets, I reflect on the day. Despite the initial setback, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Alice has helped me face my fear, and though it's not conquered yet, I know I'm on the right path. The support she's provided, both emotionally and physically, has been a lifeline. I am still terrified, horrified of swimming. But at least this is a step forward. Being brave is hard. But that’s ok, I knew this journey wouldn’t be easy. I’m going to take this one step at a time, with Alice by my side the whole way. 

When we reach my house, Alice hugs me quickly before pedaling off to her own home. I walk into the house, feeling a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. My mom is waiting in the living room.

“Sophia darling, you’re home!”

“Oh hey mom!” I greet her.

“Come here, give me a hug.” she demands. 

“Ok,” I say, exasperated, sarcastically rolling my eyes. I walk over and embrace her. 

“How was your day love? What’d you do?” she asks.

“Eh, nothing much. Hung out with Alice.” I respond casually. I don’t want her to know I’ve been learning to swim. I want it to be a surprise. 

That night, as I lay in bed, I replay the events of the day in my mind. The fear, the struggle, and the triumph. I’m nervous, but also excited in a way. But I am capable of facing these challenges head-on.

As I drift off to sleep, I can't help but feel a sense of anticipation for tomorrow. The sun will rise again, and with it, a new opportunity to conquer the waves. With Alice by my side, I know I can do it.