Goldfish in the Orange Hat

The pool water glowed that artificial blue that only exists in suburban backyards, the kind that makes your skin look weird under fluorescent lights. Maya adjusted her orange bucket hat—like, actually orange, not apricot or coral—and stood by the snack table, pretending to be intensely fascinated by a bag of Doritos.

Across the pool, Chen was laughing with Jessica and Skylar. Chen. Her supposed best friend since seventh grade, who was now acting like Maya didn't exist because she'd dared to call Jessica "kind of fake" in homeroom on Tuesday. The betrayal still tasted like swallowing a whole lemon.

"Nice hat," someone said behind her.

Maya turned. It was Riley, that quiet sophomore from her English class, holding a red Solo cup. His hair was wet, dripping water onto his shoulders.

"Thanks. My cousin got it for my birthday last month and now I can't stop wearing it. It's my emotional support hat."

Riley actually laughed. "Bold move. Everyone else is trying so hard to look chill."

He gestured at the pool, where half their grade was performing the delicate social dance of being cool while avoiding getting their hair wet or their makeup ruined. The performative casualness was exhausting.

"I saw what happened with Chen," Riley said, like he was commenting on the weather. "That's messed up."

Maya felt her throat get tight. She hated when people made it a Thing. "It's whatever. We're just growing apart, I guess. That's what happens."

"Or maybe she's being a garbage person and you deserve better."

The directness caught her off guard. Most people would've offered some vague platitude about how high school friendships ebb and flow like—what did the guidance counselor say?—tides of change.

"Want to see something cool?" Riley asked.

He led her around the side of the house, past the overflow of pink pool noodles and abandoned flip-flops, to a small aquarium on the patio. Inside, a single goldfish swam in lonely circles.

"My sister won him at the carnival last week. She doesn't want him. Says he's depressing."

"What's his name?"

"Toast."

Maya stared at the fish, its scales flashing metallic orange in the fading light. It was perfect.

"I'm taking him," she said. "I can't leave Toast here to die of loneliness. That's literally my worst fear."

Riley grinned, and it transformed his whole face. "I'll help you steal him. But we're doing it dramatically. We need backstory."

By the time they got back to the party, Maya had an orange hat, a plastic cup with a goldfish named Toast, and a new number in her phone. Chen was still by the pool with Jessica and Skylar, still performing the same routine. But Maya didn't care anymore.

Some friends drift like dead leaves. Others find you when you're hiding by the snack table in an orange hat, rescuing depressed goldfish from suburban backyards.