Goldfish and Orange Soda

Maya's sixteenth birthday wasn't supposed to involve a plastic bag containing a dying goldfish, but here she was.

"He's not gonna make it," Carlos said, nodding at the baggie she was clutching like a lifeline. The neon lights from the basement party cast weird shadows across his face. "That's like, mourning. You're mourning a carnival fish."

"Shut up," Maya shot back, but her voice cracked. The goldfish—she'd named him Bubblegum in a moment of questionable judgment—was definitely floating at an angle that screamed RIP.

Everything had started so promising. Her crush, Leo, had actually noticed her existence. They'd talked. For like, twenty whole minutes. She'd felt powerful, seen, the opposite of how she usually felt invisible in the crowded hallways of North Valley High.

Then her cousin's dog had gotten loose.

The golden retriever, apparently named Bear (which Maya thought was the most unoriginal name ever), had barrelled through the backyard gate, knocking over a folding table. In the chaos, someone had spilled an entire bottle of orange Fanta all over Maya's white jeans. She'd tried to laugh it off, pretend the citrus stain was like, ~aesthetic~ or whatever, but the joke died when she realized her phone was in her pocket.

Now she stood by the sliding glass doors, holding a dying carnival fish she'd won forty minutes ago, wearing bright orange pants, and Leo was probably off somewhere talking to Sarah—the girl with perfect hair and a社交媒体 following that Maya couldn't compete with.

"You okay?"

Maya jumped. Leo. Standing there with two red cups in his hands, looking actually concerned.

"Yeah," she lied. "Just... having a moment."

He followed her gaze to the bag. "Is that... a fish?"

"Long story." She sighed. "My life is actually a disaster right now."

Leo grinned.

"Bear? The dog?"

"You saw that?"

"Everyone saw that." He handed her a cup. "It was legendary."

Maya's face burned, but something in his voice made her look up. He wasn't laughing at her.

"Wanna help me give him a proper burial?" she asked, surprising herself.

"Absolutely."

They ended up behind the garage, digging a grave for Bubblegum with a discarded spoon, orange stains on her jeans forgotten. As she dropped the fish into the tiny hole, Leo said, "This is weirdly the best part of the party."

Maya laughed, and for the first time all night, she didn't feel invisible.

Maybe sixteen wasn't going to be perfect. But this? This weird, fish-burying, orange-stained moment with a boy who actually saw her? This was enough.