Goldfish & Hair Dye

Maya's hair was supposed to be sunset purple. Instead, it looked like a grape had exploded on her head. She stared in the mirror, wanting to cry but refusing to give her mom the satisfaction of saying "I told you so."

"It's not that bad," Jenna said, but her hesitation betrayed her.

Maya's best friend since third grade had been weird lately. Distant. Like she was already mentally gone, already off to college while Maya was stuck in their suburban town with grape-head hair and a dead-end summer.

"Whatever," Maya said. "It's just hair."

But it wasn't just hair. It was everything. It was that her mom had moved out two months ago and Maya was still sleeping on the couch because her dad's snoring reminded her too much of how empty the house felt. It was that Jenna had gotten into that fancy art program upstate and was leaving in three weeks. It was that Maya had applied too and hadn't even gotten a waitlist email.

The goldfish situation didn't help.

Her dad had brought home three goldfish from the school carnival as a "we're still a family" gesture. They'd lasted exactly four days. Now they were doing that dead-float thing in the bowl on Maya's dresser, watching her with their glassy dead eyes.

"We need to bury them," Maya said.

"They're fish, Maya," Jenna said. "You flush them."

"No. We're giving them a proper sendoff."

Jenna sighed but followed her outside. The summer air was thick with humidity and the smell of cut grass from when her dad had mowed over the weekend, trying to fill the silence with noise.

Maya dug a hole near the rosebushes with a spoon from the kitchen. Jenna watched, arms crossed, looking uncomfortable in her cutoffs and vintage band tee that Maya had helped her pick out last year, back when they'd spent entire weekends scavenging thrift stores and planning their matching tattoos.

"You know what's stupid?" Maya said, dumping the first goldfish into the hole. "We used to think we'd never change. Like, literally, we made a pact in seventh grade that we'd always be those people who thrifted and watched horror movies and hated everyone at our school."

Jenna didn't say anything.

"But people do change."

"I'm not changing because I'm going away, Maya."

"You're already gone, though. Look at you. You've got your portfolio ready and your fancy art supplies and you're probably already mentally decorating your dorm room."

"You applied too!"

"And I didn't get in! Obviously!" Maya's voice cracked. "Whatever, it doesn't matter."

The second goldfish joined the first.

"My hair looks stupid," Maya said suddenly. "I just wanted something to be different. Something I could control."

Jenna was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "Remember when we ran away in sixth grade? We made it to the park before your mom found us."

Maya almost smiled. "We had those juice boxes and like, granola bars. We were gonna live in the woods forever."

"We were so dumb."

"We were badass."

Jenna sat beside her, their shoulders touching for the first time in weeks. "You know what's funny? We're still running away. Just in different directions now."

The third goldfish went into the hole. Maya covered them with dirt, patting it down with the spoon. They sat there as the sky darkened, as the summer cicadas started their deafening chorus.

"We're not drifting apart," Jenna said softly. "We're just growing sideways."

"That's not a real thing."

"It is. We're still the same people, just branching out. Like, you'll always be the person who would bury goldfish with a spoon because that's what they deserve."

"Damn right."

"And I'll always be the person who helps you even though it's weird and I'm leaving soon anyway."

Maya looked at her hair in the reflective surface of her phone screen. Still grape-colored. Still messy.

"It's not terrible," Jenna said. "It looks like you."

"What, like a grape explosion?"

"Like someone who's not afraid to make mistakes."

They sat there until the fireflies came out, until Maya's dad called them in for dinner, until it was almost impossible to pretend that everything wasn't about to change.

"Hey," Jenna said as they headed back inside. "Next weekend, we should dye it again. Together. This time, we'll actually read the instructions."

Maya smiled. "Deal. But I'm picking the color."

"Fine. Just nothing that looks like fruit gone wrong."

Some things change. Some things stay the same. And sometimes you bury goldfish with your best friend and realize that growing sideways isn't the same thing as growing apart.