Electric Fish

Leo's Instagram feed was basically a shrine to everything he wasn't. Volleyball tournaments. Beach bonfires. People who ate kale voluntarily. Meanwhile, he was currently hiding in the bathroom at Jake's party, staring at a carnival goldfish swimming in a mason jar on the counter.

The fish had been won by some sophomore who immediately abandoned it. Jake, being Jake, had named it Tesla because "we're all gonna die anyway."

"Bro, you gonna be in there all night?" someone yelled through the door.

Leo flushed even though he hadn't used the toilet. Classic performance anxiety.

Outside, the party was exactly what Leo expected: the varsity team doing keg stands in the kitchen, the theater kids somehow already performing an improvised number on the stairs, and Maya—the actual Maya—leaning against the wall looking like she was mentally calculating the social hierarchy of everyone there.

She caught his eye and Leo almost dropped his iPhone.

"Hey," she said, pushing off the wall. "Jake says you're good at bio."

Leo's brain short-circuited. "I—yeah?"

"Great." She thrust her phone at him. "What's the deal with this vitamin D supplement my mom keeps pushing? Is it actually doing anything or is it just expensive pee?"

That was the question. That was the thing she wanted to ask him.

Leo explained renal reabsorption for three minutes while Maya nodded thoughtfully and he tried not to notice how her hair fell across her face.

"You're actually kind of funny," she said.

"I was literally talking about pee."

"Exactly." Then the power died.

Thunder cracked directly overhead and someone screamed. Through the sliding glass doors, lightning illuminated the backyard like the world's biggest flash going off. Rain hammered the roof.

"Cool," Maya said. "Wanna help me find food before someone burns the house down trying to light candles?"

They ended up in the kitchen by flashlight, eating cold spinach artichoke dip straight from the container with their fingers.

"This is so gross," Leo said.

"It's basically a salad," Maya argued. "Healthier than whatever's in that red cup."

They sat on the counter while the storm raged outside, talking about everything and nothing. Leo learned Maya hated her nickname, loved horror movies, and once accidentally set her microwave on fire. She learned Leo had a goldfish named Chairman Meow and a crippling fear of public speaking.

"Why Chairman Meow?" she asked.

"It was a cat name but then I won a fish instead."

"You're weird, Leo."

"Yeah."

"I like weird."

His phone buzzed—some group chat blowing up about the storm—but he didn't check it.

The next morning, Tesla the goldfish was floating belly-up. Jake held a tiny funeral by the pool, complete with a eulogy about living fast and dying young. Maya stood next to Leo, shoulder pressed against his.

"Sad about the fish," she said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Wanna get coffee? I have more bio questions."

Leo's heart did something illegal. "Yeah. Absolutely."

She held out her phone. "Put your number in. I promise not to ask about vitamins."

"No promises about fish funerals, though."

Maya laughed—actually laughed—and Leo decided to keep his phone in his pocket. Some moments didn't need to be documented. Some things were just for living.