Goldfish & Papaya Summer

The bull sat in the corner of Mr. Henderson's classroom, stuffed and dusty, its glass eyes judging everyone who walked past. Maya had been staring at it for twenty minutes, her iPhone 12 buzzing with notifications she refused to check.

"You gonna rescue that goldfish or what?" Marcus leaned against her desk, flicking a piece of paper at her.

"His name is Bubbles," Maya said, not looking up. "And he's not a goldfish. He's a profound philosophical statement about my existence."

"Bro, it's a two-dollar fish from the fair."

That was the problem with Marcus. He was cute, funny, and completely oblivious. Maya's mom had won Bubbles at the church festival, presented him to Maya like some meaningful life lesson about responsibility. Now the fish swam in endless circles in his bowl on Maya's nightstand, and Maya felt seen.

"Whatever." Marcus shrugged. "Party at Jenna's tonight. You coming?"

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when someone mentioned Jenna. Social dynamics at Westwood High were like trying to solve a rubik's cube with your eyes closed. Jenna was the kind of girl who made everything look effortless—perfect hair, perfect grades, perfect papaya chunks in her lunchbox while everyone else suffered through cafeteria pizza.

"I don't know," Maya said. "Maybe."

"Come on." Marcus smiled, and something in her chest twisted. "Jenna's been asking about you."

Maya's phone buzzed again. Probably her group chat blowing up about the party. Everyone going? Who's bringing what? Who hooked up with who last weekend?

She thought about Bubbles at home, swimming his lonely circles. Thought about the bull in the classroom, frozen in permanent judgment. Thought about how she spent sixteen years feeling like she was performing a version of herself that nobody actually wanted to watch.

"Actually," Maya said, standing up and shoving her phone in her pocket, "I have to get home. Bubbles needs me."

Marcus laughed. "Your fish needs you?"

"Yes," she said, and it came out more confident than she felt. "He's depressed. I read that goldfish get depressed if their bowls are too small. I'm going to PetSmart after school to buy him a mansion."

"You're weird, Maya."

"I know," she said, walking toward the door. "See you at the party maybe."

She didn't go to the party. She bought Bubbles a five-gallon tank with a neon plant and watched him explore his new world, feeling strangely like she'd done something right for the first time all year. Her phone stayed in her pocket all night.

Monday morning, Marcus sat on her desk again. "Jenna was asking about you."

"Yeah?" Maya fed Bubbles a flake of food. He was happier now. She could tell.

"She said you're weird." Marcus grinned. "But like, in a cool way."

Maya smiled. "I'll take it."

The bull in the corner seemed to approve.