Goldfish at the Finish Line

Maya's legs burned. She'd been running for forty-five minutes straight, her podcast cut short three times by texts from Jordan asking if she'd submitted the college application yet. Her mom had left the bottle of vitamin D supplements on the counter this morning—another reminder to take care of herself, as if popping pills would fix everything that felt wrong about senior year.

She slowed to a walk, her breath hitching in the October cold. The park was empty except for one guy sitting on a bench by the pond, his phone illuminating his face in the blue light.

Maya approached, curious. He was around her age, maybe a junior, feeding something to the water.

"Goldfish," he said, without looking up. "Won them at the homecoming carnival. Like, five of them. My mom said no pets."

Maya sat beside him, watching the orange flashes dart between lily pads. "That's messed up."

"Right?" He laughed, finally looking at her. "I'm Kai. You run here often?"

"Maya. And yeah, when I need to escape the existential dread of college apps."

Kai smiled, and something in Maya's chest did that annoying fluttery thing. They sat there for twenty minutes, talking about everything and nothing—his terrible taste in music, her obsession with true crime podcasts, how adults made everything feel so serious all the time.

"You should take them," Kai said suddenly, gesturing to the fish bag.

"What?"

"The goldfish. You seem like you need something to take care of that's not yourself. No offense."

Maya blinked. Then she laughed. "That's the weirdest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Is it a yes?"

She looked at him, really looked at him, and thought about the vitamin supplements waiting on her counter, the college applications she hadn't finished, the running she did to outrun expectations.

"Yes," Maya said. "But you're helping me name them."

Kai grinned. "Deal. I'm thinking Vitamin and D."

Maya groaned. "Absolutely not."

They stayed until the park lights flickered on, goldfish swimming in their plastic bag, the future feeling less like something to run from and more like something they'd figure out together.