Goldfish Karma

Maya's palms were sweating so bad her iPhone kept slipping. She wiped them on her jeans for the third time, staring at the house where Tyler's party was already bumping. This was it — her chance to finally stop being the invisible girl who sat behind him in AP Bio.

"You got this," she whispered to herself, but her heart was running a marathon against her ribs.

Inside, the bass hit her chest like physical force. Someone shoved a red cup at her. She took it, even though she'd never actually drunk before. The kitchen island was spread with chips and these weird fruit things.

"Try the papaya," Tyler said, suddenly right there. He grinned, and Maya's brain short-circuited. "It's actually legit."

She took a bite. It tasted like...

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's interesting," she managed, trying not to gag. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just be normal for once?

Then she saw it — a goldfish bowl on the counter, alone and forgotten. The fish inside was barely moving, its gills struggling.

"Hey, is that your fish?" Maya asked Tyler.

"Oh yeah, Goldie. My sister won her at the carnival last week. Think she's dying though." He shrugged. "Whatever, it's just a goldfish. They have zero memory span anyway."

Something in Maya snapped. "That's a myth. Actually a really old one."

Before she could stop herself, she was running out the back door, fish bowl in hand, racing toward the pond in his backyard. Her phone buzzed in her pocket — probably her friends wondering where she'd gone — but she didn't stop.

She released the fish into the pond, watching it swim away, fins suddenly alive again.

"You literally just stole my sister's goldfish," Tyler said from behind her.

Maya turned, ready to be humiliated. Instead, he was smiling.

"That was kinda badass," he said. "Want to hang out somewhere quieter? My room's got AC."

Her palms were definitely sweating again. But for the first time ever, she didn't wipe them.