Dead Fish Walking

First period homeroom, and I'm operating on like three hours of sleep. My brain feels like it's been slurped out through a straw. Basically, I'm a functioning zombie — dead inside, somehow still moving.

"You look rough," says Maya, sliding into the desk beside me. She's got this effortless vibe, even with her hair in a messy bun. "Rough" is putting it mildly.

"Thanks," I mumble, reaching for my water bottle. Mom's making me take these massive vitamin D supplements now because apparently I never see sunlight. The horse pills taste like regret and artificial orange.

We're doing the swimming unit in gym starting today. The absolute worst. My anxiety is already doing laps in my stomach, and I haven't even changed yet.

"You okay?" Maya asks. She's been my friend since kindergarten, which means she's witnessed my entire chronological journey of awkward phases.

"Just dreading it," I admit. "Swimming is basically just exposing yourself to everyone while doing something unflattering."

She laughs. "That's deep, honestly."

In the locker room, I discover my swim trunks are from eighth grade. They barely fit. This is fine. Everything is fine.

But then comes the moment. Someone's goldfish — someone actually brought their pet goldfish in a bag for some reason — got loose near the pool bleachers. Everyone's losing their minds, scrambling around, shouting directions like it's a hostage situation.

And suddenly I'm not the only one who's exposed.

"Someone grab it!" yells Tyler, who's somehow already shirtless and flexing.

Without thinking, I scoop up the tiny orange fish in my hands and book it to the pool's filter room, where the kid's original bowl is sitting. The fish is slippery, frantic, kind of like me right now.

When I walk back out, everyone's staring. But then Maya starts clapping. Slowly, sarcastically at first, then genuinely. Other people join in.

"What?" I ask, bewildered.

"You saved him," Maya grins. "That's actually kinda heroic."

"I saved a fish that definitely would've died anyway," I say, but I'm smiling too.

Later, while we're actually swimming — and yes, it's as awkward as I imagined — I notice the fish watching from its bowl. And I realize maybe I'm not so much of a zombie today after all.