Goldfish Operations

Maya's been running from social situations since seventh grade, which is ironic considering she literally joined track. Her older brother says she's a zombie before 10 AM, and honestly? Facts. Try staying awake through AP Chem after doom-scrolling TikTok until 2 AM.

"You're literally ghosting me," Priya says, sliding onto the cafeteria bench. "Promposal committee meeting, remember?"

Maya's stomach drops. She'd rather gargle hot sauce. "I was... gonna tell you. I can't make it."

"Again?" Priya's voice does that thing where it's half-joke, half-accusation. "You've been MIA all week. What's going on?"

Maya considers lying. She could say she's sick, or track practice ran late, or her dog ate her promposal. Instead, she stares at her phone screen, where her sister has sent yet another photo of her new goldfish, Captain Fin. The fish just floats there, living his best life, zero social anxiety required.

"I'm just tired," Maya finally says. "Everything feels like... a lot."

Priya softens. "I feel you. It's like we're all playing spy, trying to figure out who's actually chill and who's just pretending."

Maya looks up. "You feel like that too?"

"Bruh, constantly." Priya laughs. "Why do you think I'm always hyped up? It's a whole performance. My therapist says I'm 'masking,' which honestly sounds cooler than it is."

Something loosens in Maya's chest. "So I don't have to join the committee?"

"Nah, but you gotta come to my place later. We're making matcha and watching that new zombie show everyone's talking about. No spy stuff, no performance. Just us being zombies together."

"Bet," Maya says, and for the first time all week, she doesn't feel like running. She might not be a social butterfly, but maybe that's okay. Even goldfish have to come up for air eventually.