Goldfish Summer at the Sphinx

The goldfish was supposed to live forever, or at least longer than my first week of sophomore year. But there I was, flushing Bubbles down the toilet while my mom hovered in the doorway, her expression that weird mix of 'sorry about your fish' and 'we need to talk about your hair.'

My hair. Yeah, that was a whole situation. I'd buzzed it over the summer, thinking it would be my big 'new school year, new me' moment. Instead, I spent the first three weeks wearing hoodies indoors, looking like I was going through something way more intense than just an experimental haircut.

'You can't hide forever,' my best friend Rani said, finding me behind the bleachers during lunch. 'You know what Jordan says about people who hide.'

I didn't, but I could guess. Jordan Montgomery, who'd somehow become the Sphinx of Northwood High—mysterious, seemingly knowing everything, speaking in riddles that made people feel either enlightened or stupid. Usually stupid.

'He says you're not broken,' Rani continued, 'just buffering.'

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. ' buffering? That's dumb.'

'Is it?' Rani held up my phone, its battery at 3%, the charging cable frayed at the end where I'd nervously twisted it through endless failed FaceTime calls with Jordan. 'Or maybe you're just... low on power. Need to recharge before you can reconnect.'

The worst part was she wasn't wrong. I'd been so caught up in reinventing myself that I'd forgotten how to just exist. The hair, the goldfish, the weird tension with Jordan—it was all noise drowning out what actually mattered: I was lonely, and I'd done it to myself.

That afternoon, I finally texted Jordan. 'Coffee later? My treat. I promise not to wear a hoodie.'

'Sphinx protocol,' Jordan replied. 'Three questions, no dodging.'

I smiled for the first time in weeks. Some things, it turned out, didn't need to be mysterious at all.