Fish Out of Water

The golden **goldfish** stared at me through the glass, its mouth opening and closing like it was trying to tell me something important. Probably that I was about to humiliate myself.

"You got this, Leo," Maya whispered, bumping my shoulder with hers. "Just act natural."

Acting natural had never been my strong suit, especially not with **water** dripping from my hair after swimming class, making my shirt stick to me in all the wrong ways. Maya, on the other hand, looked perfect even in a school swimsuit, because the universe was unfair like that.

"So..." I started, then my pocket buzzed. My **iPhone**. Of course. My mom, asking if I'd fed the fish before I left. I mentally facepalmed. This was it. This was how I died.

"Your mom?" Maya asked, cracking a smile.

"Yeah. She's, uh, protective of the fish."

She laughed, and it was this genuine sound that made my chest feel weird. We were walking toward the **padel** courts where her friends hung out after school. The popular crowd. The ones who actually knew how to talk to people without sounding like they'd swallowed a textbook.

"Wait, you play?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. My dad's obsessed. We could play sometime if you want."

My heart did this little flip thing that was honestly embarrassing. Then my stomach dropped. Because I'd left my charger at home this morning, and my battery was at 4%. The **cable** was sitting on my desk, mocking me from five miles away.

"I'd love to," I said, and then the unthinkable happened. My phone died mid-sentence. But Maya didn't walk away. She didn't make fun of me. She just kept walking, talking about how terrible she was at padel anyway, and maybe we could be terrible together.

The goldfish at home wasn't telling me anything important. But Maya? She was showing me something way better.

Sometimes the best moments happen when your phone dies and you're just... there. Present. With someone who makes you forget to check the screen every thirty seconds.

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," I said, and for the first time, I didn't feel like a fish out of water anymore.