Goldfish in the Room

The WiFi cable dangling from Maya's ceiling fan should've been my first warning. Friday night, week three of sophomore year, and I was literally tethered to the wall like some digital prisoner while everyone else was living their best wireless lives.

"Hey, stop lurking and come spin!" Kayla shouted from the makeshift dance floor, already tipsy on whatever her older sister bought them.

I mumbled something about checking my messages, but really, I was making sure my crush notification would actually *notify* me if Jordan finally replied. Instead, I ended up staring at Maya's childhood goldfish—Bubbles, RIP, now swimming in a bowl on the bookshelf like a tiny, orange ghost of social awkwardness.

Three weeks ago, I'd have been right there with Kayla, laughing too loud and dancing like nobody was watching (even though everyone always is). But that was before the cafeteria incident—the spinach in my braces, Jordan watching, the whole table trying not to laugh while I casually pretended nothing was happening. Three weeks later and I still couldn't eat anything green in public.

"You're being super weird," someone whispered behind me. I turned to see Mia—Jordan's best friend, the girl who could pull off literally anything while I was still figuring out which aesthetic didn't make me look like I was trying too hard.

The sliding glass door opened and Jordan walked in with his crew, bringing this sudden wave of cold air. He looked unfairly good in that black cable-knit sweater, the one I'd liked on his Instagram post five times before unliking it four times because who does that? Desperation has a scent, apparently.

I was about to vanish into the kitchen when I caught it—Jordan and Maya's brother slipping out the back door like foxes, smooth and practiced. Without thinking, I followed, because that's what you do when you're 15 and convinced every secret might somehow explain why your life feels like a constant awkward pause.

They were behind the shed, passing something back and forth. A spy? No. Just two guys sharing a vape pen and laughing too loud, being exactly the kind of dumb that teenage boys are.

I started to turn back—embarrassed, because of *course* that's what it was—but then Jordan spotted me. And instead of looking annoyed, he smiled. This real, crooked thing.

"You spying, Ramirez?"

"No," I said, but something in my chest shifted. "Just. Sorry. I thought—"

"Yeah, everyone thinks there's this whole secret thing," he said. "There's not. We're just dumb."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

"Spinach," I blurted.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just. You should know, like, braces plus spinach equals disaster. In case you ever need that information."

He stared at me for a second, then laughed. This genuine, loud sound that made me realize I'd been holding my breath since walking in the door.

"Good to know," he said. "Hey. That goldfish been dead long?"

"Three years."

"Weird place to keep it."

"Keeps the party interesting."

"Yeah," he said, and somehow we were both laughing. "I like that. It's weird."

Back inside, Kayla was still spinning, the WiFi cable swung lazily from the ceiling fan, and Bubbles the goldfish kept swimming through his afterlife like he had somewhere better to be. And for the first time in three weeks, I wasn't counting the minutes until I could leave.