Goldfish in the Deep End

The pool party was Maya's idea. Obviously. Everything social was Maya's idea since seventh grade, back when she'd convinced me that eating raw spinach leaves was "literally so aesthetic" for our TikTok aesthetic phase. That lasted exactly three days before I caved and bought actual lunch.

Now we were juniors, and Maya was still the gravitational center of our friend group. But something felt off lately. Like, she'd been weirdly distant, always on her phone, canceling plans last minute with vague excuses that didn't add up.

"You gonna swim or just judge everyone's cannonball form?" Jared asked, flopping onto the lounge chair beside me. He'd been my actual friend since we got paired for a science project in eighth grade and discovered we both hated group projects with equal passion.

"I'm contemplating my existence," I said, which wasn't entirely a joke. "Also, I think Maya's avoiding me."

Jared shrugged, tossing a goldfish cracker into his mouth. "She's been weird with everyone lately. Probably boy drama or something."

The goldfish cracker reminded me of the carnival last month, where Maya had won that tiny goldfish in a bag and then made me promise to take it because her mom would "literally kill her." It lived in a bowl on my desk now, swimming in endless circles, and I'd named it Dip because I didn't know what else to call a thing that just swam and ate.

"Hey," Jared said suddenly, sitting up straighter. "Isn't that Maya's ex? The college guy?"

I followed his gaze to the pool gate where some guy who looked twenty was talking to Maya. She was laughing, touching her hair, that thing she did when she was trying to impress someone. And suddenly it clicked—all the cancelled plans, the distance, the phone always buzzing.

"She's seeing him again," I said, feeling stupid for not realizing it sooner. "That's why she's been acting weird."

Maya spotted us watching and froze. The conversation stopped. She said something to the guy and started walking toward us, that fake-sweet smile plastered on her face.

"You want to talk about it?" Jared asked quietly.

"No," I said. "I want to go swimming." I stood up and headed for the pool, leaving my phone and my overthinking on the lounge chair. The water would be cold, Maya would eventually explain everything or she wouldn't, and tomorrow I'd still have to figure out who I was outside of her orbit.

But right now, I just wanted to feel something real. I cannonballed into the deep end, surfacing sputtering while Jared laughed from the deck. Spinach-eating, goldfish-winning, friendship-complicated Maya could wait. Right now, the water was exactly what I needed.