Goldfish Memories at the Padel Court

Jamie's been spying on Maya's Instagram for three weeks straight. Not even good spying—just tapping through stories like some desperate lurker, which, honestly, she is. But Maya was her best friend since fourth grade, until the Incident That Shall Not Be Named, and now Jamie's stuck watching from the outside while Maya posts from that bougie padel club her dad got her into.

"Pulled straight from the reels," Jamie mutters, thumb hovering over a photo of Maya's new squad looking effortless in matching pastels. They're all leaning against the glass wall of the padel court, laughing like they're in a Netflix original.

"Total bull," someone says behind her.

Jamie jumps. It's Carlos from her calc class, leaning against the lockers like he has all day.

"What?"

"That humblebrag about the padel club?" Carlos nods at Jamie's phone. "She posted that 'soo grateful' caption like four times this week. We get it, you're fancy."

Jamie's face burns. She hadn't realized anyone noticed her stalking, let alone Carlos, who she's literally never spoken to outside of group projects.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She locks her phone. Classic deflection. Flawless execution.

Carlos shrugs, but there's something sympathetic in his expression. "I see you watching her stories. It's cool—everyone does that kind of spying when they're trying to move on. But Maya's got the memory of a goldfish when it comes to people she's over."

"Ouch."

"I'm just saying. You're still stuck in it, she's already playing padel with the next friend group." He checks his watch. "Speaking of—me and some people are playing at the rec center this weekend. Not the bougie club. Actually fun, zero aesthetics. You should come."

Jamie blinks. "You're inviting me? To hang out with you?"

"Why not? You seem less fake than the padel court crowd." Carlos pushes off the locker. "Saturday at two. Don't overthink it."

He walks away before Jamie can process what just happened. She stands there, heart doing something weird and fluttery, watching Maya's story autoplay one more time—all filtered smiles and performed authenticity—then closes Instagram for the first time in weeks.

Maybe being on the outside isn't the end. Maybe it's just how you find the real people.