Goldfish in the Pyramid Scheme

The carnival goldfish — which I'd creatively named Goldie — lasted exactly three days before doing the backstroke. So there I was, freshman year, running through the suburban sprawl with a ziploc bag full of deceased fish, trying to find a decent burial spot before my mom got home from her shift.

That's when I saw him: Trey, the junior who'd been giving me heart eyes in homeroom since August, standing by the abandoned convenience store with his cool friends. They'd built a pyramid of energy drink cans against the back wall — like, forty cans high, which was objectively impressive and objectively stupid.

"Yo, Maya!" Trey called. "What's with the bag?"

My brain short-circuited like lightning striking a power line. The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them: "It's for science."

Trey's eyebrows practically disappeared into his curly hair. "Science?"

"Yeah. I'm doing this extra credit thing about decomposition rates in different soil types." I gestured vaguely at the ground. "For... biology."

His friends were looking at me like I'd grown a second head, but Trey was nodding slowly. "That's actually kinda sick. Let me help."

So there we were, me and this cute junior who I'd been dreaming about for months, digging a tiny grave behind a 7-Eleven with a stolen spoon from the gas station next door. The sun was setting, everything was golden and hazy, and I was hyper-aware that my hair was definitely doing that weird frizzy thing it does when I've been running.

"Rest in peace, little guy," Trey said solemnly as we covered the bag with dirt. "You were a good fish."

"His name was Goldie," I whispered, feeling suddenly emotional about a fish I'd won by throwing a ping pong ball into a cup.

Trey smiled, and it was different from his usual cool-guy smirk — softer, real. "You know, you're weird, Maya. But like, in a good way."

My stomach did that thing where it feels like it's trying to escape my body. "Thanks? I think?"

We walked back to the main road together, and for the first time all year, I didn't feel like a freshman constantly trying to prove she belonged. Maybe it took a dead goldfish and an accidental science project, but somehow, I'd found my people.

Or at least, one person who didn't think I was completely unhinged. And honestly? That felt like winning the lottery.