Goldfish Protocol

The party at Maya's house was supposed to be low-key, but someone's older brother showed up with a case of White Claw and suddenly everything felt极其 important in that way only fifteen-year-olds can make things feel.

I was sandwiched between the refrigerator and a potted **palm** tree Maya's mom definitely watered too much, holding a red plastic cup I hadn't taken a sip from because my parents had that terrifyingly accurate sixth sense about alcohol. Around me, people were taking those awkward group photos where everyone tilts their head at the exact same angle, trying to look effortlessly aesthetic.

"Dude, did you hear about Jordan?" Leo appeared beside me, practically vibrating with energy. He was that kind of chaotic, like human **lightning** in a basement that suddenly felt too small. "He tried to ask out Sarah and literally choked on his own spit. Mid-sentence. It was legendary levels of cringe."

I'd known Leo since third grade, back when being a **friend** meant sharing your goldfish crackers at recess and not abandoning each other during tag. Now everything felt more complicated, like we were all trying on different versions of ourselves to see which one fit.

"That's rough," I said, but I was distracted. Across the room, I saw Jordan himself, looking like he wanted to melt into the carpet. He had this reputation—charming, confident, the kind of guy who could talk to anyone—but in that moment, he just looked painfully human.

Maya's family **dog**, a golden retriever named Cooper who'd been circling the party like a furry shark, chose that exact moment to knock over a decorative bowl. **Goldfish** crackers exploded everywhere—instant confetti, zero celebration.

The room went silent for like three seconds before someone started laughing. Then everyone was laughing, including Jordan, whose face was slowly returning to a normal color instead of mortified red.

Leo grinned at me. "See? This is why I love these things. Ten seconds ago, Jordan's life was over. Now everyone's thinking about how Cooper's a snack-thieving legend."

I looked at my open hand, the **palm** lined with creases that mapped out who I was supposed to be, who I actually was, and the weird messy space in between. Maybe that was the whole point—nobody really had it figured out. We were all just awkward, confusing humans trying to survive each other.

"Alright," I said, finally taking a sip of my drink. "I'm gonna go say hi to Jordan before he fully regresses into a shell."

"Good luck," Leo called after me. "Don't choke on your spit."

"Shut up, man."

But I was smiling. Some moments were cringe, some were electric, and most were both at the same time. You just had to show up for them.