Goldfish Memory, Lightning Heart

Maya's phone buzzed. Again. Group chat blowing up about Jake's party tonight—the social event of the sophomore year, and she was debating whether to bear another three hours of standing in corners with red Solo cups filled with flat soda.

"You're going, right?" her best friend Sasha texted. "Don't make me spy on you through Instagram stories to see if you're actually there."

Maya groaned and flopped onto her bed, staring at her goldfish bowl where Barnaby—yes, like from the bear episode—swam in endless circles. "At least your life makes sense, Barnaby. Swim, eat, swim again. Nobody's judging your outfit or wondering why you're standing alone again."

The truth? Maya had been kind of spy-stalking Jake for weeks now. Not creepy-stalking. Just... noticing things. Like how he always wore that same faded NASA hoodie. How he laughed with his whole body. How he seemed as uncomfortable at parties as she felt.

"I'll go," she finally replied. "But if I don't text you within twenty minutes, send a rescue team."

The party was exactly what she expected. Bass thumping through the floorboards, someone's older brother's questionable playlist, clusters of people she'd known since elementary school suddenly acting like they were in a music video. Maya grabbed a drink and slipped toward the backyard—her usual escape route.

Then lightning split the sky. Not metaphorical. ACTUAL lightning, jagged and brilliant, illuminating the whole yard like a flash photography.

"Whoa," someone said behind her.

She turned. Jake stood there, NASA hoodie, hands shoved in pockets, looking more awkward than she'd ever seen him.

"Weather app said zero percent chance of storms," he said. "Pretty metal though."

"Yeah," Maya managed. "Metal."

They stood there watching the clouds roll in, and Jake suddenly laughed. "I'm terrible at these things. My parents made me come. Said I need to 'work on social skills.' Which apparently means standing alone drinking lukewarm Sprite."

Maya's heart did that lightning-strike thing again. "Same. Well, except my parents think I'm at Sasha's studying."

"You're sneaking out?" Jake grinned. "Rebellious. I respect it."

Rain started falling, gentle at first then harder. They didn't move.

"You know what's messed up?" Jake said. "I've been wanting to talk to you forever, but I always chicken out. Like I have the memory of a goldfish or something—forget everything I planned to say the second I see you."

Maya stared. "Wait. YOU wanted to talk to ME?"

"Why's that surprising? You're the only person in English who actually laughed at Mr. Henderson's jokes. Even when they weren't funny."

Lightning flashed again. Closer this time.

"We should probably go inside," Maya said, but she didn't move.

"Yeah," Jake agreed. "In a second."

They stood in the rain while the storm raged, and for the first time since forever, Maya didn't feel like the girl in the corner. She felt like someone who stood in lightning storms with boys who'd been wanting to talk to her all along.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Sasha, checking in. But Maya didn't answer. Some moments were better experienced than reported.