Goldfish Summer

The summer before freshman year, Maya decided she needed a rebrand. Gone was the girl who'd once cried because her goldfish died after three days. She was going to be someone mysterious. Someone who wore vintage hats and said things like "it's giving main character energy" even though she wasn't totally sure what that meant.

The hat she found at her grandmother's house—a wide-brimmed thing with fake flowers—was supposed to be her armor. She'd wear it to the pool party where everyone would be, and she'd finally talk to Jake, who'd been in her math class since sixth grade but had never really noticed her.

Her best friend since kindergarten, Sam, just shook his head when she showed him the hat. "You're trying too hard," he said, which was exactly the kind of thing someone would say before they became famous in a coming-of-age movie.

"You just don't get the aesthetic," Maya told him, even though she was already sweating under the wool blend in July.

The party was everything she dreaded and hoped it would be. Someone's older brother was DJing, and the pool water glowed with those floating lights that made everything look underwater and dreamy. Maya kept adjusting her hat, acutely aware that she was the only person wearing headgear besides the guy who'd brought a sombrero as a joke.

Then Jake actually talked to her.

"Cool hat," he said. "Very aesthetic."

Maya opened her mouth to say something chill and effortless, but what came out was, "I had a goldfish once and it died."

Why. WHY had she said that?

Jake didn't even pause. "Same. We had a funeral and everything. My little brother made a tiny casket out of a shoebox."

Something shifted. The ridiculous hat, the dead goldfish confessions, the way neither of them knew what to do with their hands. Maya took off the hat and set it on a patio chair. Her hair was messy underneath, but Jake just smiled like he'd been waiting for her to be real the whole time.

"Wanna get ice cream?" he asked.

Sam found her later and raised an eyebrow. "So much for mysterious."

Maya laughed, feeling lighter than she had all summer. "Sometimes the rebrand is just being the person who admits they had a goldfish funeral."

"Valid," Sam said. "Also, you left your hat at Jake's house."

She'd get it back. Or maybe she wouldn't. Either way, she was done trying to be anyone but herself—goldfish stories and all.