Goldfish in a Snapback

Maya's feet hit the pavement in a rhythm that matched her overthinking brain—left, right, overthink, repeat. She'd been running every morning since freshman year, not because she actually liked it (she hated it, honestly), but because for thirty minutes, she couldn't check her phone, couldn't compare herself to everyone's perfect lives on social, couldn't think about how she'd somehow become invisible in high school.

Her stupid hat—the same oversized black snapback she'd stolen from her brother before he left for college—pulled down low over her eyes like armor. People at school called it her signature look, like it was a choice and not a security blanket. Whatever worked.

Then she met Leo at the pet store, where she'd been staring at the goldfish in tank 47 for twenty minutes like they held the answers to her chemistry final. He was the new kid, already wearing his welcome out by asking actual questions in English class, the kind of person who didn't seem to care that social hierarchy was supposed to be a thing.

"That one's trying to escape," Leo said, nodding toward a particularly determined goldfish throwing itself at the glass.

"They're called goldfish, not wallfish," Maya said, then immediately wanted to die. Leo laughed anyway.

Somehow they ended up walking to school together. He asked about the running—she'd mentioned it once, trying to sound cool instead of like she was fleeing her thoughts. He asked about the hat—she'd adjusted it self-consciously when he looked at her too long. He didn't make fun of her either time.

"You know," he said Tuesday, when they'd somehow established a walking-to-school routine that made Maya's stomach do weird things, "goldfish have this thing where if you put them in bigger water, they actually grow bigger. They only stay small because that's what their world allows."

Maya thought about it all through third period. Maybe she'd been living in a bowl, thinking she was small.

Thursday, she left the hat home. Friday, she asked Leo if he wanted to go for a run with her sometime. He said yes, and somehow her feet found a new rhythm.

left, right, breathe, repeat.