Goldfish Operation

The plan was supposed to be foolproof. Maya, my best friend since kindergarten, had outlined it during third period: "Operation Papaya. We figure out if Tyler likes Chloe, then you swoop in if he doesn't."

I was the designated spy, which basically meant I had to accidentally-on-purpose sit near them at lunch. My crush on Tyler had been running on fumes since seventh grade, but lately it felt like he was actually looking at me. Or maybe I just wanted him to be.

The cafeteria smelled like tater tots and desperation. I grabbed a tray, hands sweating, and positioned myself three tables away. Tyler sat with his crew, laughing at something. Chloe—aka The Fox, because she was gorgeous and cunning and I was pretty sure she could have anyone she wanted—was playing with her hair, leaning in close.

I was about to text Maya a single crying emoji when Tyler looked right at me. Our eyes caught across the room and I nearly dropped my tray. He actually smiled.

Then I did what any mature, sensible fifteen-year-old would do: I panicked and bolted.

"You are such a bull in a china shop," Maya said later, finding me hiding behind the gym with a papaya smoothie from the café. It tasted like disappointment and tropical fruit.

"He smiled at me, though!"

"Or he was smiling at someone behind you," Maya said, ever the optimist.

But the next day, Tyler slid into the seat next to me in bio. "Hey, you're in my English class, right? You always have those cool stickers on your notebook."

My brain short-circuited. I was the goldfish in this scenario—three-second memory of how to form sentences. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"So," he said, and there it was. That hesitation that meant something big was coming. "Would you want to come to the fall dance with me? Like, as friends? Unless... you want it to be more than friends?"

Maya was going to lose her mind. Operation Papaya had worked, though not exactly how we'd planned. I looked at Tyler—really looked at him—and realized I wasn't some awkward spy anymore. I was just a girl who a boy had noticed.

"More than friends sounds good," I said, and for the first time, I didn't feel like I was swimming in a bowl, going in circles. I felt like I could actually breathe underwater.