Goldfish Prophecy

Maya's hair had been a disaster since seventh grade—frizzy, uncooperative, basically a personal vendetta against her social life. But tonight, with the summer carnival glittering under stars, she'd actually managed to tame it into waves that didn't look like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Not that Zach would notice.

"He's looking at you," Leila insisted, nudging her arm.

Maya's heart did that stupid fluttery thing. Zach Martinez, currently leaning against the palm tree near the carnival entrance, was definitely not looking at her. He was probably looking at Jasmine, whose hair always behaved itself.

The air smelled like cotton candy desperation and teenage awkwardness. Maya adjusted her strapless dress for the fiftieth time.

"Let's do something normal," she said. "Not just stand here being weird."

They wandered past booths rigged to separate middle schoolers from their allowance money until they reached it—the goldfish toss. Those tiny, stressed fish swimming in circles in way-too-small bowls.

"Your destiny awaits," the carnie said, winking. Maya's twenty-quarter investment later, she held a plastic bag containing Gary (named after her crush who'd ghosted her last semester).

"That's the saddest fish I've ever seen," Leila said.

"He's resilient," Maya defended. "Like us."

Later, somehow, she ended up at the palm reading booth because apparently her dignity had left the building. The woman there had too many bracelets and eyes that saw too much.

"You're worried about appearances," she said, tracing Maya's palm. "But here's the thing—" She tapped Maya's heart line. "Someone already noticed you noticed them."

Maya's stomach dropped. "What?"

The woman nodded toward the exit. Where Zach was standing. Holding his own goldfish bag.

"He asked Leila about you," the woman said. "Something about your hair being different tonight. Good different."

Maya walked over, clutching Gary like he was some kind of emotional support animal. Her hair was already frizzing in the humidity. Her goldfish was probably traumatized.

"Nice fish," Zach said, grinning. And then, "I like your hair."

And just like that, the summer stopped feeling like a countdown to disaster and started feeling like the beginning of something real.