Swim lessons

Everyone was so much more sexy and graceful than me in middle school. My friends' bodies developed faster than mine, and my social graces lazed behind with my chest until much later than theirs.

Everything my best friend in eighth grade did charmed and beguiled. She lacked both common sense and intelligence, but no one cared because she was tan and smiled pleasingly. She oozed cool effortlessly, just breathed and exhaled cool like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal: cool was everything in eighth grade, and social lives blossomed and died based on cool. Who were you seen with, what was the logo on your uniform white shirt, how short did you roll your plaid Catholic skirt? All standards for cool.

Gretta, my best friend from eighth grade, had a pool (cool). She was allowed to wear skimpy bikinis (cool). She had a Louis Vuitton purse (cool). Her older sister drove her around in a BMW (cool). She chose not to smoke but could if she wanted (cool).

I never knew why Gretta chose me as her best friend in the eighth grade. All of my cool points registered way in the negative, but I devoted myself to her as well as any trained lap dog. Gretta could have told me to do anything and I’d have done it.

The coolest thing Gretta did was hang out by her pool; it was sacrosanct, like her sacred temple. When it was Gretta’s time to dip her foot into the pool, it was the cool time to dip her foot in the pool, so I did it too. When it was Gretta’s time to walk around the pool, it was the cool time to walk around the pool, so I did it too. When it was Gretta’s time to recline in an oversized swim tube, it was the cool time for swim tubes, and I did it too.

Gretta’s coolest water trick was to tip over the side of her swim tube so that she went from upright to horizontal to the water, then flip over entirely so her legs were in the air and her head below water. She’d hover for an anxious second, cross her legs at the ankles, then slide down through the tube and glide up to the surface like a mermaid emerging from the water.

I loved when she did the graceful tip and dive, but I never understood when it was the optimally cool time to try it. I’d do the flip and swim at random intervals, hoping I looked as cool and amazing to her as she did to me. She never seemed to notice, though, so I knew it wasn’t cool.

One day, at the end of summer, just after classes had come back into session for our eighth grade year, I nearly drowned trying to impress Gretta. The day was almost cool, but the sun was still hot, so I insisted on swimming. We floated in our tubes, wearing our sunglasses, her looking amazing in her white and orange flowered, ruffled bikini, and me trying to be cool in my thrift store green and orange bikini that never fit quite right. Gretta flipped over her inner-tube with her sunglasses still on, and drifted to the surface as unflapped and perfect as a teen pool party movie starlet.

“Gretta did it, it must be the right time to flip,” I thought. So I did. But for some reason, I over-thought the tip and glide process, and I got stuck. Suddenly, my size zero tiny little girl hips wouldn't fit through the tube, and I was stuck, head below water and legs uselessly sticking straight up.

“Oh god, I’m going to drown,” I thought. I’d done the turn and swim a million times, half as many as Gretchen, so there was no reason for anyone to guess that something went wrong this time, but nonetheless my hips were stuck.

I pawed frantically with my arms under the water to pull myself through, but I wasn’t budging. I held my breath tight knowing this might be the end of me and I needed to hang on as long as I could. I tipped my legs back hoping to flip myself upright again, but I couldn’t do it, my arms didn’t have the strength.

Then I realized, “I need to relax.” I exhaled, I crossed my legs at the ankles like I’d done every other time, and my body narrowed and glided straight through the tube. I popped to the surface, and Gretta said, “I started to worry. I wondered if you were OK.”

Never mind the near-drowning panic, Gretta noticed me. I got back in my tube and floated, smiling, “she would have helped me, even though I’m not cool.”