Goldfish in the Storm

Maya's hair was expanding in the humidity like a frizz cloud—exactly what she didn't want when Ethan waved from across the pool party. Her crush since seventh grade, and she looked electrocuted.

"Hey Maya! Wanna play padel?"

She'd rather die. Padel was that tennis-adjacent sport all the popular kids were suddenly obsessed with, and she was about as coordinated as a drunk flamingo.

"Sure!" Her mouth betrayed her.

The padel court was behind the pool house. Ethan handed her a racquet. Their fingers touched and she felt actual lightning—static from the court surface, but still.

"You ever played?"

"Once. I was terrible."

"That's cool. Me too."

He wasn't. He absolutely wasn't.

Two games in, Maya was sweating through her favorite cutoffs when Mrs. Reed appeared with a fishbowl.

"Ethan, your goldfish from the carnival!"

There was a single goldfish swimming in tiny circles, looking as confused as Maya felt.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about it."

Maya's hair chose that moment to attack—a gust sent her curls across her face, and she tripped backward, splashing directly into the pool.

She came up sputtering while everyone stared. Ethan's goldfish bowl wobbled. The goldfish swam faster, sensing disaster.

"That was... graceful," he said.

Maya wiped water from her eyes, hair plastered like seaweed. "I meant to do that."

"I know." Ethan set down the goldfish. "Wanna get out? I think there's still pizza."

Lightning cracked overhead as they scrambled inside with goldfish and pizza.

Maya ended up on the couch next to Ethan, watching rain hit the windows. The goldfish was on the coffee table, still swimming in confused circles.

"So," Ethan said. "You hate padel, right?"

"With passion."

"Me too. I only play because my dad thinks it'll look good on college applications."

Their knees touched. Maya's hair was drying into weird waves, but Ethan was looking at her like she was something special.

The goldfish swam on, entirely oblivious.