Goldfish Memories and Zombie Summers

I felt like a zombie that summer—the kind that shuffles through humidity with zero brain cells, surviving on air conditioning and fruit snacks. My lifeguarding shift at the community pool was supposed to be chill, but instead I was panicking because someone—definitely not me, though everyone suspected—had forgotten to feed the **goldfish** in the lobby aquarium for like, three days straight.

He was still alive somehow, floating near the plastic castle with what I swear was judgment in his bulging eyes. People say goldfish have three-second memories, but this one remembered my negligence. I could feel it.

'They're **swimming** in your lane again,' Kiara whispered, nudging me with her elbow.

I followed her gaze. Across the pool, the popular crew had claimed the prime lounging spots—again. Chloe, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since seventh grade, was flipping her hair with that practiced effortless vibe that took actual effort. My stomach did that thing where it forgets how to be an organ.

'Go talk to her,' Kiara said, like it was that simple. 'Before I make you.'

'I literally just survived a near-death experience with a goldfish,' I protested. 'My social battery is at 2%.'

'So? You're **running** out of time. Summer's basically over.'

She wasn't wrong. School started in two weeks, and I'd spent the entire break feeling like background character in my own life. Zombie mode. Just existing through the motions.

But then Chloe waved at me. Actually waved. And I realized maybe I wasn't as invisible as I thought.

The goldfish swam to the front of his tank and did a little flip, like he was cheering me on.

Fine. Maybe it was time to stop drifting and start swimming.