Goldfish Attention Spans

My dad's voice echoed through the house. 'Maya, did you take your **vitamin** gummy?'

I rolled my eyes, already three screens deep into my **iPhone**. Sarah had posted a photo at the **padel** courts without me. Again.

'Coming!' I shouted, but stayed planted on my bed. My three-inch **goldfish**, Toast, did laps around his bowl like he understood my pain.

'She left you out on purpose,' my brother Leo said from the doorway, holding his skateboard like a shield. 'You know why.'

I did. Because yesterday at lunch, when Jackson made that joke about—

No. I wasn't going there. Not today.

'Whatever,' I said.

'The **bull** riding competition's tonight at the fair,' Leo said. 'Bet you wouldn't last eight seconds.'

'I'd last longer than your attention span,' I shot back.

He smirked. 'Prove it.'

That's how I ended up at the fairgrounds, surrounded by hay and testosterone, watching cowboys get launched into the air like human cannonballs. The smell of popcorn and dirt filled my nose. My **iPhone** buzzed in my pocket—Sarah's story again, everyone laughing in a way that didn't include me.

I almost opened it. But then I heard my name.

'Maya Alvarez? You up next?' The announcer's voice boomed through crackly speakers.

The crowd went quiet.

I froze. This was supposed to be a joke. Something Leo dared me to do, fully expecting I'd chicken out.

But then I thought about Toast, swimming in circles in his tiny bowl. About the **vitamin** gummies my dad reminded me to take every morning, small things that added up to something bigger. About Sarah at the **padel** courts, posting photos that left me feeling hollow.

About how I'd spent the whole year letting things happen to me instead of making them happen.

'Yeah,' I said, surprising myself. 'I'm up.'

The **bull**—a massive, brown-and-white beast named T-Bone—snorted at me from behind the metal chute. His eyes said: you don't belong here.

I climbed onto his back, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The rope burned my hands.

'You ready?' the gate guy asked.

I thought about my **goldfish**, how he never stopped swimming even though his world was the size of a dinner plate.

'Yeah,' I said. 'Let me at him.'

The gate flew open.

The world exploded into motion—dirt and sky and fury and me, hanging on for dear life, screaming with something that felt like fear but tasted like freedom.

I lasted 4.7 seconds.

The crowd erupted. I hit the dirt laughing, dust in my teeth, hair a disaster, heart somewhere in my throat.

My **iPhone** buzzed again in my pocket.

I left it there.