Goldfish in the Brain

Maya stood by the snack table at Jake's house party, nursing a lukewarm soda while her best friend Chloe disappeared into the crowd. Again. The bass thumped through the floorboards, vibrating in Maya's chest like some kind of weird vitamin supplement she didn't ask for.

"You look like a zombie," said a voice behind her.

Maya turned to find Jake himself, host of the party and the guy she'd had a crush on since seventh grade. He was holding a red cup and looking at her with that sphinx-like expression he always wore—unreadable, mysterious, totally annoying.

"Thanks," Maya managed, suddenly aware of her oversized hoodie and the fact she'd been standing in the same spot for forty minutes. "Just tired. Track practice killed me."

"Coach Crawford still making you guys run those suicides?" Jake laughed. "My brother says he's like a bear about conditioning."

" literally. He roared at us today when someone was two seconds slow."

Jake leaned against the wall, closer than she expected. The scent of his cologne—something citrusy and expensive—mixed with the smell of cheap chips and teenage desperation.

"You know what's weird?" he said. "I always thought you were like, super quiet in class. But you're actually funny."

Maya felt her face heat up. "I have a three-second memory span around people I don't know. Like a goldfish."

"No way." Jake grinned, and for the first time, the sphinx expression cracked. "That's honestly kind of iconic."

"Iconic?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "Who says that anymore?"

"My little sister. She's twelve and goes through one slang word per week like it's her job." Jake set down his cup. "Hey, want to get some air? It's loud in here."

They ended up on the back porch, sitting on the steps while the party noise muffled behind them. Maya's phone buzzed—Chloe, probably wondering where she'd gone—but she ignored it.

"So," Jake said, "besides track and goldfish impersonations, what do you actually do?"

Maya hesitated, then surprised herself by answering honestly. "I write fanfic. Mostly. And I'm trying to learn guitar but I suck at it. And I have this theory that everyone is secretly a zombie until they find their people."

Jake looked at her for a long moment. "That's... actually really deep. Also, you should show me your writing sometime. If you want."

The air between them shifted—something electric, something possible. Maya's heart did that stupid flutters thing it always did in movies she swore she didn't watch.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

Inside, Chloe found her ten minutes later, buzzing with gossip about who said what to whom. But Maya was still thinking about Jake's smile, the way he'd called her iconic, the way the night had unfolded like something she might write herself.

Maybe being a goldfish wasn't so bad. Sometimes three seconds of courage was all you needed.