Goldfish Memory

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, staring at the group of juniors by the bleachers. Jordan was there, laughing at something Tyler said, his orange hoodie bright against the gray October sky.

"You're literally spiraling," Kiara said, sliding onto the bench beside her. "Just talk to him already."

"Easy for you to say," Maya muttered. "You didn't have an entire conversation yesterday about how goldfish have a three-second memory span."

Kiara burst out laughing. "You said that to JORDAN?"

"I was nervous! It just came out!" Maya buried her face in her hands. "Now he probably thinks I'm obsessed with fish or something."

"Or he thinks you're cute and weird." Kiara nudged her. "Worse things exist, bestie."

Maya groaned. This was her problem – overthinking everything until she talked herself out of anything that mattered. She'd been doing it all semester with Jordan, ever since he'd complimented her presentation in AP Bio. Every time she tried to make a move, her brain supplied a million reasons why it would end in disaster.

Her phone buzzed. Ten percent battery. She patted her backpack frantically – she'd forgotten her charging cable. AGAIN.

"You good?" Kiara asked.

"Dead phone. Classic me." Maya stood up. "I'm gonna go find a charger before the bell."

"Maya, wait –" Kiara started, but Maya was already walking away, her running shoes squeaking against the gym floor. She'd rather physically walk away than deal with the possibility of rejection. Same old pattern.

But then she heard footsteps behind her.

"Hey!"

She turned. Jordan was jogging toward her, that orange hoodie somehow even brighter up close. His hair was messy from practice.

"Uh, hey." Her palms started sweating again. Seriously, body? NOW?

"You left this." He held out something small and silver. A goldfish cracker? No – it was a tiny fish-shaped keychain, like something you'd win at a carnival.

"Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for this." She took it, their fingers brushing for a microsecond.

"Yeah, I found it by the bleachers." He smiled. "Also, I looked it up. Goldfish don't actually have three-second memories. They can remember stuff for months."

Maya blinked. "You... googled it?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, but she could see his ears turning pink. "I mean, you seemed pretty passionate about it yesterday. Figured I should educate myself."

The bell rang. Neither of them moved.

"So," Jordan said, "there's this party at Tyler's on Friday. You going?"

The old Maya would've made an excuse, said maybe, deflected. But suddenly she was tired of running away from things that scared her.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Cool." He grinned. "Save me a dance?"

Her heart was running a marathon against her ribs. "Only if you tell me more fish facts."

"Deal."

As he walked away, Maya pressed the goldfish keychain into her palm. It was small and ridiculous and perfect. Some memories, she decided, were worth holding onto.