Goldfish Goodbye

Maya stared at the glass bowl on her nightstand. Inside, Fin the goldfish darted between plastic neon plants, oblivious to the fact that his owner's life was basically imploding.

"He needs more space," Mom called from the kitchen, where something that smelled suspiciously healthy was burning. "Fin, I mean. Not you. Though you could clean your room."

Maya rolled her eyes and grabbed her iPhone. Three notifications from Sophie:

🚩 R U coming??

🚩 Party starts in 20

🚩 Justin asked abt u

Sophie was her best friend—literally the only person who understood that Maya's parents splitting didn't make her damaged, just busy. Busy avoiding her dad's new apartment across town. Busy pretending normal teenage stuff mattered when her whole life had been重组.

"Spinach's ready!" Mom announced.

Gross. Since when did they eat spinach? Since Dad left and Mom decided to reinvent herself through wellness and leafy greens. Maya texted Sophie back: On my way. Then stared at Fin. Who would feed him when she moved to Dad's every other weekend?

She walked to the kitchen. The spinach sat limply in a bowl, looking like green despair.

"It's good for you," Mom said, eyes sad. "Your dad and I want you to be healthy. Through everything."

Maya's throat tightened. "I know."

Outside, a golden retriever trotted down the sidewalk, followed by a girl Maya's age. They laughed as the dog chased a tennis ball. That could've been Maya—she'd begged for a dog for three years straight. But Dad was allergic. Or that was the excuse.

"What if I got a dog?" Maya asked suddenly. "For Dad's place. He's not allergic anymore."

Mom's smile was real this time. "Ask him."

Maya's fingers flew across her iPhone screen. Hey Dad, can we get a dog?

Sophie texted: U OK?

Maya: Yeah. Just figuring stuff out.

Back in her room, Fin swam to the front of his bowl and stared at her with those weird fish eyes that saw everything.

"You're coming with me," Maya decided. "Dad needs a pet. You're basically a dog."

Fin swam away, unimpressed.

Whatever. Maya grabbed her jacket, the house key Mom had made a duplicate of, and Fin's bowl. Tonight she'd sleep at Sophie's. Tomorrow she'd figure out how to live in two places at once.

The goldfish swam through his tiny world like nothing had changed. Maya wished she could do the same.