Goldfish in the Storm

Maya's vintage bucket hat was already soaked through, but she kept running. The cross country meet had been called off ten minutes ago when the skies opened up, but she didn't care. Her legs burned, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her phone buzzed in her pocket — probably Jordan texting about how stupid she looked out here in the downpour.

She'd bought the stupid hat at Urban Outfitters last week because everyone was wearing them, trying to fit in at her new school where she didn't know anyone. Now it was ruined, flopping against her forehead like a wet dishrag.

But Maya kept running because stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering her mom's face when they'd fought that morning about the goldfish. Not a real one — that would've been easier. "Goldfish" was what Jordan called her at lunch because she'd spaced out staring at the cafeteria floor, which apparently made her look like a fish in a bowl. The whole table had laughed, and Maya had laughed too because that's what you do when you're the new girl desperate to make friends.

But it wasn't funny. Not really.

Her foot splashed through a puddle, sending muddy water up her calves. Good. Let the running destroy something else today. At least this was destruction she controlled.

The rain made everything blurry, like she was seeing the world from underwater. Maybe she really was a goldfish — trapped in a tiny bowl, swimming in circles, everyone on the outside watching and laughing at how clueless she was about everything.

Then she saw it.

Through the rain-smeared haze, an actual goldfish — bright orange, impossible — flopping in a shallow puddle near the sidewalk. It must've washed out of someone's busted aquarium or pond. The tiny thing was gasping, dying in the rain like she'd been dying inside all day.

Maya stopped running. Her soaked hat fell off as she dropped to her knees in the mud, cupped her hands, and somehow transferred the little fish into a deeper puddle nearby. It swam away, disappearing into the murky water.

She sat there in the rain, hatless, muddy, alone, and finally breathed. Not the ragged running breaths, but something real.

When her phone buzzed again, Maya actually looked. Jordan: "hey where r u? the team is going to milkshakes, u coming?"

She stared at it, then typed back: "yeah. be there in 10."

Maya stood up, grabbed her squashed hat, and started running again. But this time, she wasn't running away from anything. She was running toward something, and for the first time all day, she actually knew where she was going.