Goldfish in the Fruit Bowl

Maya's beat-up dad hat was basically her security blanket. The black snapback with the peeling logo shaded her eyes like armor against the hallway glare. She'd been wearing it since seventh grade, back when she thought covering her forehead would somehow make her invisible.

"You still rocking that hat?" Lena asked, leaning against Maya's locker like she owned the school. "It's giving... intense energy."

Maya shrugged, adjusting the brim. "It's my thing, you know?"

Her phone buzzed. Mom again: Your dad's coming to dinner. Try the papaya I bought—it's exotic.

Gross. Papaya looked like alien fruit, all wrinkly and orange like something that died in the sun. But Dad's visits were always performance art, and Maya was the worst actor in the family. Last time, she'd fake-cried when he gave her that goldfish—Bubbles—like it was a puppy and not a feeder fish that lived in a bowl on her nightstand.

Bubbles stared at her through the glass, his orange scales flashing in the lamplight. He'd survived three months of Maya's chaotic sleep schedule and her dad's inconsistent parenting.

"At least someone's consistent," she muttered.

That afternoon, she sat on her bed, facing the papaya like it was a bomb. Mom had sliced it open, revealing black seeds and flesh the color of a sunset. Maya poked it with her fork.

"Just try it, mija," Mom called from the kitchen. "Your father used to love—"

Maya's stomach knotted. Everything circled back to him. She eyed Bubbles, doing his endless laps. Fish had zero drama. Fish didn't have dads who showed up twice a month with grand gestures and ghosted for weeks at a time.

She took a bite.

Weird. Soft like butter, sweet like candy, nothing like she expected. It was... actually kind of amazing?

"So?" Mom leaned in the doorway.

Maya took another bite. "Not terrible."

That night, Dad showed up with concert tickets. Maya's stomach did that familiar flip-flop—the hope that hurt. But instead of her usual performance, she just sat there, papaya-stained lips and all.

"What's with the hat?" Dad asked, finally noticing something.

Maya pulled it off. Her hair flattened against her head. She felt exposed, raw, like she'd just bitten into something new and didn't know if she'd swallow or choke.

"I'm trying something different," she said.

Bubbles did a victory lap around his bowl. Maybe change wasn't so bad when you chose it yourself.