Goldfish in the Lightning

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. First house party of sophomore year, and she was currently hiding behind a ridiculously tall potted palm tree in Jake Miller's living room.

"You look like you're plotting someone's murder," a voice said.

Maya nearly knocked over the palm. Jake stood there, red cup in hand, looking annoyingly chill.

"I'm vibing," Maya lied. "This is my vibe."

"Your vibe is behind the decorative tropical flora?" He gestured toward a glass bowl on the counter. "You want to say hi to Goldie? My mom made me bring her."

Maya stared at the goldfish. "You brought your pet fish to a house party?"

"She gets lonely." Jake deadpanned.

Then: CRACK. Lightning shattered the sky outside, and the entire house went dark.

Someone screamed. Someone else cheered. Maya's hand found Jake's arm in the darkness.

"Goldie!" Jake yelped.

They stumbled toward the counter. Phone flashlights cut through the black, illuminating chaos: kids dancing, people laughing, one guy eating chips directly from the bag like nothing had happened.

Jake's goldfish bowl had somehow survived.

"Your fish is living her best life," Maya said, suddenly realizing she'd been holding his arm for too long. She let go.

"She's seen some things." Jake looked at her, then looked away. "Hey, I'm actually glad you're hiding behind this palm. I was trying to avoid talking to varsity lacrosse guys for two hours."

"Same," Maya said, even though she'd been avoiding everyone. "But, like, I'm not hiding. I'm observing."

"Right. Observational purposes only."

"Exactly."

Another lightning flash illuminated his face, and Maya noticed he had the same terrified expression she'd been wearing all night.

"We could observe somewhere with better snacks?" Jake suggested.

"Goldie too?"

"Goldie comes. She's my emotional support fish."

Maya laughed so hard she didn't even care that her palms were still sweating.