Goldfish in the Storm

Maya's parents had dropped her off at Sarah's house with the lamest warning: 'Don't do anything we wouldn't do.' Because that was exactly the kind of thing that made seventeen-year-olds want to do everything their parents wouldn't.

The party was already in full swing when she arrived. Sarah's basement was packed with people from school, most of whom Maya barely acknowledged in the hallways. The air smelled like cheap body spray and something else—maybe freedom, maybe just teenager.

She ended up in the kitchen, staring at Sarah's childhood goldfish bowl. The fish, a glistening orange comet named Finnegan, kept swimming to the glass and back like it was checking her out.

'You too, huh?' a voice said.

Maya turned to see Leo—aka 'The Fox' to everyone who'd seen him talk his way out of detention three times last month. He had this annoying habit of being right about things, like how Mr. Henderson's history tests were actually predictable if you paid attention to the pattern.

'What?' Maya said, suddenly self-conscious.

'You're hovering,' he said, leaning against the counter. 'Like you're waiting for something to happen but also terrified it will.' He nodded toward the goldfish. 'Finnegan gets it. Look at him, just swimming in circles like that's his whole personality.'

Maya laughed despite herself. 'You're weird, Fox.'

'And you're avoiding the party because you think you don't belong,' he countered. 'But newsflash: nobody belongs. We're all just pretending we know what we're doing.'

Outside, thunder cracked. The sudden storm knocked out the power, plunging the basement into darkness. Someone screamed like they'd seen a ghost, but it was just Jessica, being dramatic as always. Lightning flashed through the windows, illuminating everyone's faces in strobe-light bursts.

The cable TV went dead. No Spotify, no Netflix, just darkness and each other.

'Maya,' Leo said softly, 'you don't have to perform for anyone. Not here.' He gestured at the chaos of teenagers pulling out phone flashlights, someone joking about the apocalypse, Sarah's mom yelling from upstairs about responsible behavior. 'Look at us. We're all just awkward goldfish in a bowl, swimming around and pretending we know where we're going.'

Another flash of lightning revealed his crooked smile, the one that made girls in homeroom whisper during lectures. 'So maybe just... swim your own laps?'

Maya exhaled. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath all night. 'Okay,' she said. 'But if I start doing aimless circles, you're allowed to call me out.'

'Deal.' He bumped her shoulder with his. 'Now come on. I think Sarah's brother brought out a guitar.'

They moved toward the living room together, and for the first time all night, Maya didn't feel like she was waiting for something to happen. She was already in it.