Goldfish in the Orange Hour

Maya's palms were sweating like crazy, which was honestly pathetic because she was literally just standing at a corner of Tyler's backyard party, holding a plastic bag with a goldfish inside. A goldfish named Nacho that she'd won at the carnival because her best friend Jinx dared her to play, and now she was stuck babysitting a fish while trying to look chill.

The orange soda in her other hand was getting warm. Everything was getting warm. August in Florida felt like breathing through a wet towel.

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

She jumped. Nacho sloshed violently.

It was Tyler. The Tyler. Whose party this was. Who she'd been lowkey obsessed with since seventh period English when he'd defended dystopian novels as actually good literature.

Maya's brain went full static. Like, white noise.

"No," she managed. "Just thinking. About. Fish."

She held up the bag. Nacho floated there, judging her.

Tyler laughed. Not mean laughter. Actual laughter. "Is that from Pete's Carnival? I won a goldfish there last year. Named him Godzilla. He lived for three years."

"Three years?"

"Bro, they're resilient. Don't underestimate the goldfish."

They stood there for a minute. The sky behind them was doing that thing where it turned orange and pink like someone had spilled a slushie on the horizon. The party noise swelled and faded in waves. Jinx was across the yard, dramatically motioning for Maya to SAY SOMETHING.

"I like your shirt," Maya said suddenly, because her brain had officially given up on dignity.

Tyler looked down at his faded band shirt. "Oh, this thing? Yeah, I found it at a thrift store. Scored it for like four dollars."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

Awkward silence. Then—

"Wanna see something cool?"

She followed him to the side of his house, where the outdoor outlet was. He plugged in this string of lights wrapped around a tree, and they flickered on, casting everything in soft glow. Fireflies joined in, blinking in sync like they were part of the show.

"My sister and I made these last summer," he said. "She's away at college now. Kinda miss her, actually."

Maya felt something in her chest. Like lightning, but soft. The kind that doesn't scare you, just reminds you you're alive.

"That's really cool," she said honestly. "Like, actually impressive."

"Thanks." He looked at her. Really looked at her. "You're not like most people at our school."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Definitely good."

They sat on the porch steps for an hour while Nacho swam in his bag and the orange sky faded to purple and Jinx texted her ARE YOU ALIVE and she didn't even care.

Later, walking home with the fish, Maya realized her palms weren't sweating anymore.