How to Outswim a Shark Without a Snorkel by Jess Keating Page A

expect everything to magically fit . You have to try stuff on, and squat, and bend over, and wave your arms and make sure nothing looks weird.”
    I frowned at the pile of suits hanging in front of me. I guess it made sense. Usually when something didn’t fit me, I got annoyed and felt like a weirdly shaped android. But technically, I did the squat test with all sorts of things in my life, so why not clothes? I read the first few pages of a book before deciding if I wanted to buy it. I nibbled on a slice of pizza to see if I liked it.
    I took a deep breath and yanked off my shorts and T-shirt. The lights in the fitting room were bright, so I flinched at the off-green zombie that stared back at me. Is that really how my knees look?
    Just try on the suit, Ana. It’s a swimsuit. It cannot hurt you.
    I stepped into the pink suit and pulled it up over my underwear. Honestly, is there anything less attractive than wearing a bathing suit WITH your underwear? I know they have that rule so people don’t dirty the suits, but why can’t somehow invent a way to make this process a little less mortifying? Sliding the straps over my shoulders, I did a test squat. The antitheft knobbie-thing was digging into my collarbone. I waved my arms and even did a little boogie, shaking my butt around.
    Hmm.
    â€œYou okay in there?” Ashley’s voice rang in from outside the door. “Does it fit?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “The top feels a little weird.” I slumped against the wall, hugging my shoulders. The sinking feeling in my chest got worse as Ashley knocked on the door again. This was a stupid idea.
    â€œWell, open up. I’ll see what’s wrong with it,” she said.
    At that moment, an alarm went off in my head. This would be a perfect opportunity for her to get me good. All it would take is one picture of me in this awful pink eyesore and she could ruin my life.
    I hesitated, with my hand stuck in midair by the lock.
    â€œWell?”
    I didn’t know what to do. My heart was racing, sending a flurry of confusion through me. Being my brave self was so much easier without swimsuits.
    Okay.
    Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. I braced for the worst.
    But it was only Ashley.
    No camera. No phone. No anything. She had another pile of suits in her basket.
    â€œHmm, I see what you mean.” She reached up and adjusted the strap, giving it a tug. “It’s too tight. It’s because you’re taller than it’s made for,” she said. She pursed her glossy lips. “I think we should get it in a size up. It’s a bit snug on the chest anyway, so it will probably work.”
    She disappeared back into the racks before I could argue.
    â€œHere, try this one. They didn’t have pink, but that nice blue you like was in.” She handed me the blue suit in a different size.
    I clenched my teeth as I tried it on. I wanted to go home, but I was also curious if Ashley’s method was going to work. Beads of sweat began to collect on my forehead. Pulling the straps over my shoulders, I squeezed my eyes shut.
    It’s just a swimsuit.
    â€œKnock, knock,” Ashley said. “That must be better.”
    I opened the door again.
    â€œOh. My. God ,” Ashley said. I winced, but she was beaming. “Do a turn! It fits so well! I told you blue was your color! And look how well it fits!” She yanked me from the fitting room to the gigantic mirror at the end of the hallway. I hunched over, trying to hide myself and avoid the prying eyes of other shoppers, but nobody seemed to notice. The floor was cold under my bare feet.
    â€œYou like it?” I asked hesitantly. With the three-way mirror in front of me, it was hard not to stare at myself. To pick out every flaw. My weird-looking knees. The uneven tan on my arms. My lack of a butt. But somehow, this suit made them a little harder to spot. The blue made my eyes stand out, and somehow it