Goldfish in the Palm of My Hand

The carnival lights blurred through my tears, which was embarrassing since I was supposedly here to have fun. My friends were somewhere near the tilt-a-whirl, probably living their best lives, while I was stuck babysitting a plastic bag containing the world's saddest goldfish.

"You okay, man?"

I jumped. It was Maya from my English class. She was wearing this oversized hoodie that made her look tiny and impossibly cool at the same time. My palms started sweating instantly.

"Yeah, just rescued this guy." I held up the bag like it was a prize instead of a mistake. "Won him at the ring toss. The carnies looked at me like I was crazy for actually wanting him."

Maya laughed, and it was this sound that made my chest do this weird fluttery thing. "That's actually kinda wholesome. What's his name?"

"I was thinking Bartholomew. Or maybe just Fish. I'm not great at commitments."

"Bartholomew it is." She sat next to me on the metal bench, close enough that our knees almost touched. "You're on the track team, right? I see you running during sixth period when I have PE."

My face burned. "You notice me?"

"Notice everyone on the track team. Y'all are always running somewhere like you're being chased. What's the rush?"

I thought about how to explain it—the way running was the only time my brain actually shut up, how it was easier to keep moving than to deal with sitting still and feeling everything.

"Just preparing, I guess. For the future. For whatever's next."

Maya studied me, her dark eyes serious. "You know, I read palms. My abuela taught me."

"Yeah right."

"Hand it over." I held out my right hand, and she took it, her fingers tracing the lines in my palm. "You're going to do something important. Something brave. But you've got to stop running away from it first."

The world tilted on its axis. Maybe it was the carnival lights or her hands on mine or the fact that I was sitting here with a goldfish and a girl who actually saw me, but I said, "What if I wanted to stop running right now?"

Maya smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. "Then I'd say you should probably get poor Bartholomew into some proper water before he stages a revolt. And then maybe we could get some fries?"

"Only if they're curly fries."

"Obviously."

And just like that, I wasn't running anymore. I was exactly where I needed to be.