gills and gumdrops

The blue gummy vitamin sat on my tongue, tart and artificially sweet, like everything else about Tyler's party.

I was sixteen, socially awkward, and currently hiding behind a potted monster plant in the corner of someone's basement. My best friend Jenna had disappeared into the kitchen twenty minutes ago with some senior from the football team, leaving me to contemplate my life choices and clutch my emergency vitamin stash like it was contraband.

"Hiding?"

I jumped. A guy materialized from behind the plant—dark hair, suspiciously calm vibe, holding a red plastic cup. "I'm observing. There's a difference."

"From behind a potted plant?"

"It's called strategic positioning."

He laughed, and I noticed the way his eyes crinkled. "I'm Caleb. I'm strategically positioned by the snacks."

"Maya." I shifted my weight. "And I'm strategically positioned... here."

"Cool, cool." He nodded toward the glass bowl on the shelf beside us. "You been watching this goldfish all night?"

"That's the saddest goldfish I've ever seen."

"His name is Kevin."

"You named a goldfish Kevin?"

"It's a solid name. Kevins are underestimated. Kind of like goldfish at parties." He leaned closer. "Want to hear something wild?"

"Always."

"Goldfish have a three-second memory. So Kevin here? Every time he swims past that plastic castle? It's basically a brand new adventure. No overthinking. No replaying conversations in the shower at 2 AM. Just pure, unadulterated goldfish vibes."

I stared at him. "Are you saying I should be more like a goldfish?"

"I'm saying some of us carry too much." He gestured to my closed fist. "Including emergency vitamins."

My face burned. "They're for anxiety. My mom says B-complex helps with—"

"Hey, no judgment." His voice softened. "My sister's the same way. Has this whole routine before parties. Music on repeat, outfit laid out, supplements, breathing exercises. She calls it 'optimizing.' I call it being human."

Something loosened in my chest. "Your sister sounds intense."

"She's amazing. Also, she's probably in the kitchen right now, definitely not talking to that football senior." He raised an eyebrow. "Jenna, right?"

"You know Jenna?"

"Everyone knows Jenna." He smiled, and it was genuine. "She told me to find you. Said you'd probably be in the corner making friends with the plants."

"That's... specific."

"She said you're her person." Caleb's expression shifted. "Like, her actual person. Not just party friend."

The music swelled—some bass-heavy track that made the floor vibrate. I thought about Jenna, about how she'd dragged me here knowing I'd panic, about how she'd texted me earlier: *just come, i'll be your wingwoman, also i saved you pizza.*

"She texted me," I admitted. "Before. Said she saved me pizza."

"The pizza's gone. I saw. But there's this cat in the bathroom—"

"A cat?"

"Tyler's sister brought it. It's currently sleeping on the bath mat. We could go pet it. It's very therapeutic. No goldfish memory required."

I looked at Kevin, swimming his endless loops of new adventures. Looked at Caleb, with his suspiciously calm vibe and knowledge of my best friend. Looked at the party, suddenly less overwhelming.

"Let me finish my vitamin first," I said.

Caleb grinned. "Take your time. Kevin's not going anywhere."

I swallowed it—tart and artificial and exactly what I needed.

"Okay," I said. "Show me the cat."