Goldfish in the Palm

Maya had been running late everywhere lately—late to first period, late to volleyball practice, late to growing up, basically. So when Tyler finally asked her to the spring carnival, she'd made it her life's mission to not be running behind for once.

"You good?" Tyler asked as they leaned against the railing near the goldfish pond. The water glimmered with those weird orange fish swimming in endless circles, which was honestly how Maya's brain felt lately. Just going round and round, overthinking everything.

"Yeah," she said, even though her palms were sweating. "Just... thinking about how weird high school is. Like, remember sixth grade when we were still playing four square? Now we're here pretending to be chill at a carnival."

Tyler laughed, and the sound made something in her chest do this stupid little flip. "Lowkey true. But hey, at least we're not those people over there." He pointed to a couple having what looked like their third breakup of the week. "Drama is exhausting."

Maya nodded, then noticed something small and orange swimming near the edge of the pond—a goldfish that looked like it was trying to escape. Without thinking, she reached down and scooped it up in her palm, water dripping everywhere.

"What are you doing?" Tyler asked, grinning like she'd lost it.

"I don't know," she said, feeling the tiny fish fluttering against her skin. "It's like... it's trying to be somewhere else. I felt that."

"Maya," Tyler said softly, and then he was reaching out, his hand covering hers for a second. "You're not a fish in a pond. You're literally the smartest person in our AP Chem class. You're going to Stanford or whatever. Stop overthinking everything and just... exist."

She let the fish slip back into the water, watched it swim away with what looked like way more confidence than she'd ever had.

"Exist, huh?" she said, wiping her wet palm on her jeans. "I can try that."

"Good," he said, and then: "You want to get funnel cake or what? I'm starving."

And just like that, Maya stopped running—from everything, for everything—and walked alongside him instead, wondering why she'd made everything so complicated when sometimes, you just needed to let the fish swim and eat some fried dough with the person who got it.