Goldfish Summer

Maya stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, running fingers through her newly-dyed purple hair. The box dye had turned out more grape soda than electric violet, but she refused to care. This was her rebellion, her statement, her thing.

"You look like a grape," her brother Leo announced from the doorway, chewing on one of those gummy vitamin supplements their mom was obsessed with. "A very expensive grape."

"Shut up, Leo." Maya smoothed her hair, ignoring him. It was the first day of sophomore year, and she'd spent all summer reinventing herself. No more quiet girl who faded into the background. This year would be different.

Her phone buzzed. Group chat: **Elena: Did u hear about Jake's party Friday?? 😱**

Maya's stomach did that familiar flip. Jake, the varsity quarterback, was hosting. Everyone who was anyone would be there. Including Jordan, the junior with the hazel eyes who'd been in her calculus class last year.

But then there was the other Jordan — Jordan Miller, who'd been her lab partner since seventh grade. The one who knew she still slept with her childhood stuffed goldfish, the one she'd accidentally called "stupidly gorgeous" when they were studying for finals last spring.

**Alex: You going??** the chat read.

Maya typed: **maybe 😬** before deleting it.

By Friday night, her purple hair felt like a beacon. She'd spent two hours getting ready, only to arrive at Jake's house and feel immediately like she didn't belong. The music was too loud, the air too thick with expensive perfume and desperate energy.

"Maya!" Elena grabbed her arm. "You came! I love the hair!"

Before Maya could respond, someone yelled, "BEER PONG!" and suddenly there was a crowd around the folding table in the backyard.

Jordan (the cute one) was playing, shirt sleeves rolled up. "You want in?" he asked, grinning at her. "Unless you're scared."

"Please." Maya stepped up. "I'm not scared of you."

But she was. And she sucked at beer pong. Every shot missed. The crowd laughed. Good-natured, but still. Her face burned.

"You're totally going for that, aren't you?" Jordan Miller appeared beside her, handing her a red solo cup. "Your face is giving you away. You look like that goldfish you won at the fair in sixth grade. The one that died because you overfed it."

"Shut up." Maya laughed despite herself. "I was eight."

"You still have that same look." His expression softened. "The one that says you're trying too hard to be something you're not."

Maya stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying." Jordan shrugged. "You don't need the purple hair. Or the beer pong. Or to impress Jake or whatever." He paused. "You're already the smartest person I know. And you have, like, actual interests. Why fake it?"

Maya felt something tighten in her chest. "I'm not faking anything."

"Are you sure?" His phone buzzed. "Because I'm pretty sure the real Maya would rather be at home reading than at a party where she doesn't fit in."

Maya opened her mouth, then closed it. He wasn't wrong.

"Come on." Jordan nudged her. "Let's get out of here. I found this amazing documentary about foxes in the Arctic —"

"Foxes? Seriously?"

"They're really cool! They survive in negative forty degrees!"

Maya looked back at the party, at Jake and the crowd and all the things she thought she wanted. Then she looked at Jordan, with his messy hair and awkward smile and the way he'd memorized every fact she'd ever told him.

"Fine." She grabbed her jacket. "But you're buying me real food first."

"Deal." He grinned. "My treat. No vitamin gummies involved, I promise."

Maya's purple hair caught the streetlight as they walked away from the party, and for the first time all summer, she didn't feel like she was pretending to be someone else.

"Hey Jordan?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not letting me be a goldfish."

He laughed. "Anytime, Maya. Anytime."