Goldfish in the Fox's Hat

Maya's sneakers slapped the pavement as she rounded the corner, chest burning. Again. She'd been running from her feelings for Jackson since September, and apparently also running laps in gym class because Coach Miller had zero chill.

"Fox's got moves today," someone called from the bleachers. Jackson's red hair flashed under the gym lights as he wove through defenders on the basketball court. His nickname fit him—sleek, quick, always three steps ahead of everyone else. Including Maya.

She slowed to a walk near the water fountain, hands on her knees. Her phone buzzed. Group chat blowing up about Taylor's party Saturday night.

Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like she'd swallowed a live goldfish whole. Jackson would be there. He was always at these things, leaning against doorframes with that effortless vibe, wearing his dad's old army hat backward like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The truth was, Maya had won Jackson a goldfish at the spring fair last month—some random carnival game where you toss ping pong balls into tiny bowls. She'd planned to give it to him, make some joke about how the fish was probably doomed anyway, just like her chances. But then she'd chickened out, and now the fish lived on her desk in a bowl she'd decorated with galaxy stickers.

She named it Fox.

Yes, it was weird. No, she would not be taking questions at this time.

"Hey, Maya."

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Jackson stood there, spinning a basketball on one finger, sweat making his shirt stick to his chest in ways that were honestly unfair to everyone involved.

"You coming to Taylor's?" he asked. "Everyone's gonna be there."

Maya's brain blue-screened. "Uh. Yeah. Probably."

"Cool." He adjusted his hat, flashing that crooked smile that made her forget how to form complete sentences. "Save me a dance?"

He winked. Actually winked. Then jogged back to the court like he hadn't just fundamentally altered the fabric of Maya's reality.

The goldfish in Maya's stomach did a backflip. Maybe it was time to stop running. Maybe this time, she'd actually show up wearing her heart on her sleeve—or at least carrying a galaxy-decorated fish bowl and enough courage to finally say hey, I like you, you idiot.

Saturday couldn't come fast enough.