Goldfish Secrets

The goldfish — a carnival prize I'd won with three pathetic throws — floated belly-up in its bowl on my dresser. Three days. That was how long it took me to kill something that was supposed to be basically indestructible.

"You're overthinking it," Maya said, sprawled across my bed while I stared at the fish like it held the meaning of life. "It's not some metaphor. It's just a fish."

Maya had been my best friend since sixth grade, back when we both had bangs we'd eventually regret and secrets that seemed huge then but felt ridiculous now. But lately she'd been different — distant, like she was hiding something.

"I'm not overthinking," I said. "I'm just... processing."

"You're always processing." She checked her phone for the fiftieth time. "Hey, I gotta bounce. Meeting someone."

"Meeting who?"

"Just... someone." She wouldn't meet my eyes. "From the photography club."

After she left, I did something terrible. Something that made my stomach twist. I became a spy.

I followed her to the downtown cafe, hiding behind a magazine I wasn't reading. And there she was — sitting with Jordan, the guy I'd had a massive crush on since September. They were laughing. They were leaning in. They were —

My phone buzzed. Maya: Come sit with us.

I walked over, heart pounding, feeling like the biggest idiot alive. But then I saw Jordan's camera on the table, spread out with photos. Maya pointed at one. "The lighting here's perfect for your portfolio."

"You think?" Jordan asked.

"Dude, I've been your freelance photo assistant for three weeks. You should trust me by now."

They weren't on a date. They were working on his art school application. The "secret" Maya had been keeping was that she'd been helping him because she knew I liked him but didn't want to get my hopes up in case he didn't feel the same.

"You're the best friend ever," I whispered later, over spinach salads at the cafe. "I'm literally the worst for spying on you."

"You're not the worst," Maya said, grinning. "But you are about to have spinach in your teeth for the next four hours if you don't check a mirror."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Maybe I was still figuring out who I was, maybe I still overthought everything, maybe I'd keep making mistakes. But I had a friend who'd cover for me even when I acted like a total weirdo. And that was enough.

The goldfish might be dead, but at least I was finally starting to live.