The Goldfish Whisperer
Marcus stared at his iphone screen, the blue light illuminating his desperate face in the dark bedroom. Another rejection from Maya. The third one this week. "You're overthinking ...
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Marcus stared at his iphone screen, the blue light illuminating his desperate face in the dark bedroom. Another rejection from Maya. The third one this week. "You're overthinking ...
Maya's reflection in the gym mirror showed disaster. Her normally sleek curls had erupted into a frizzy explosion after swim class, looking like she'd stuck her finger in a light s...
I wasn't supposed to be at Kara's pool party. Everyone knew that. But here I was, standing by the snack table like a lost goldfish in an ocean of cool kids, clutching my phone like...
The bathroom smelled like chemical strawberries and regret. I stared at my reflection, the orange hair dye dripping onto the sink like radioactive sludge. Three hours until homecom...
Marcus sat three rows up in the bleachers, watching the baseball game like it actually mattered. The social pyramid at Jefferson High was simple varsity at the top, everyone else t...
The orange cable snaked across my floor like a warning I kept ignoring. Six feet of braided nylon connecting me to Miles, whose spot on the padel court had somehow become the cente...
Marcus stood alone in the bullpen, baseball cap pulled low, rehearsing his apology for the third time. The varsity team's biggest game of the season had ended in disaster, and now ...
Maya's hat was basically part of her head at this point. A oversized black bucket hat that hid half her face and covered her curls like a protective shell. It was her armor against...
The summer before sophomore year, swimming at Jordan's pool party felt like walking into a minefield in just a swimsuit. I'd spent the morning group-chatting with the crew, but whe...
Maya stared at the pyramid of spinach cans towering from her locker like some weird monument to her mom's health kick phase. "Okay, nobody saw that," she muttered, shoving the cans...
Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, staring at the door of Jordan's house where muffled bass thumped like a second heartbeat. ...
Maya's summer had three constants: the blistering heat, the padel court behind her apartment complex, and her position as the designated benchwarmer. Every Tuesday and Thursday, s...